Storiesonline.net ------- Backscatter by hammingbyrd7 Copyright© 2007 by hammingbyrd7 ------- Description: The plot has many surprises. I don't want to reveal too much. Backscatter is a near term futuristic story, starting in Bell County Texas in the 2040's. It's a story of epic adventure, lots of hard SF, and it starts with something as simple as a grocery shopping list. Codes: MF ScFi PostApoc slow rom 1st cons het ------- ------- Copyright© 2007 hammginbyrd7 ------- Chapter 1: Chance Meeting Time: Friday, May 10, 2047 6:16 PM CDT Ft. Hood, Bell County, Texas Megan O'Connor walked into her civilian barracks with a careful gait, her poncho soaked from the blowing rain. It was still two hours before sunset, but the dark clouds outside the distant hall window and usual lack of power in the building made the interior corridor feel like late evening. She had just had a very successful stop at the base commissary. Bundled and protected in her arms and backpack were two small kegs of lamp oil and numerous bags of foodstuffs, two 5-kilo bags of rye and barley flour, six kilos of rice, a three-liter bottle of vitamin-A enriched cooking oil, new yeast, a month's supply of dried herbs and simple spices, and her prize finds, dried fruits from southern California, a half-dozen fresh eggs, and 500 grams of sausage. She had more than enough ration coupons to make the purchases legal. The trick lately had been arriving at the commissary at the right time to use them. Megan walked slowly across the slick puddles of oily water on the old linoleum. As she reached her ground-floor apartment, she heard the main entrance door open and close behind her down the hall. Not wanting to spoil her precious cargo with the grime on the floor, she pressed up against her apartment's steel door and kept her packages in her arms. She fumbled for a moment, trying to work her door-key loose from an inner pocket. She suddenly felt the presence of another person in the darkness near her. As Megan turned to see, the lamp-oil kegs in her backpack shifted. She started to topple over, her feet sliding on the slippery floor. She gave a small cry and grimaced as she thought of her eggs. A strong pair of arms caught her just in time. "Hello! So sorry to startle you, I should have announced my presence." "That's okay. Thanks for the catch!" Megan straightened out and tried to see the face of the man beside her in the dim light. She shifted her packages to the outside of her wet poncho. "Would you mind holding these for a moment?" A minute later she was out of her poncho and lighting a lantern in her common area. "My name's Megan by the way, Megan O'Connor." "Alvaro Lopes. I'm very pleased to meet you." Megan nodded back and got her first clear look at her visitor. He looked fit, definitely not as thin as most of the people Megan was used to. He was also dressed as a civilian, and the complexity of the security badge near his shoulder puzzled her. It identified him as a U.S. citizen, but also had the blue and gold cross giving him the high-level rights of a foreign diplomat, something Megan thought would be impossible for a U.S. citizen to have. There was something else out-of-place too, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She unslung her backpack and headed for the kitchen area. Alvaro followed with the bundles and placed them on the worn counter. He gestured at the cots in the sleeping area nearby. "So, you share this small space with three other people?" "Sure. This is a standard quad," Megan replied, waving her arm around her home. "Are you going to live here at the complex too?" He nodded. "Just for a few days. I'm being housed in one of the apartments on the third floor." "Oh, the high-rent district. It's nice up there." Alvaro flashed her a brief grin and raised his eyebrows. Megan took it as a sign that he thought she was being sarcastic. "I was being serious! You must be new to the area!" "Yes, a long way from home. My plane arrived at Houston early this morning." He returned her smile and started to help her unpack. Megan looked at him, her eyes for the first time giving a brief expression of sympathy. "Hell, with all the detours, that's a 300-kilometer trip from here. And I know how bad the roads are." She stood on tiptoe to reach a high cabinet and put away the two bags of flour he handed her. As Megan stretched high, the front of her wet shirt clearly defined her feminine shape. Alvaro gave a soft sigh of appreciation. "Need any help with that?" he asked. "No, I got it, thanks." Standing next to her visitor, Megan judged his height to be about twelve centimeters above her own height of 175 cm. She took a closer look at his face. "Wow, what a handsome guy," she thought. "Boyish grin, wavy black hair, and those eyes! So alert and cheerful... When was the last time I saw a guy this cute?" She smiled at him and said, "Houston huh? You must be exhausted. And where's home?" He handed her the rice and cooking oil. "Oh, I'm okay. My party and I were flown here by the military a few hours ago. And home is Madeira." Megan raised her eyebrows at the mention of the second air trip. More groceries went into the lower cabinets, and then she remembered something. "Wow, what a coincidence. One of my roommates grew up in Madeira." Alvaro looked at her quizzically. Megan stared back. "You mean Madeira, Ohio, don't you?" "No, the country of Madeira. It's about 700 km off the coast of Africa." "Oh wow, really?! I was wondering about your diplomatic immunity. But your badge says you're a U.S. citizen?" "That's right, dual citizenship. In the early 2040's, I was a graduate student at Princeton. The reforms of 2041 required that I swear allegiance as a U.S. citizen before I could get my doctorate." Megan laughed. "It sounds as if you got your doctorate about the same time I got mine! Veterinary school at U.C. Davis, Class of 2045." Alvaro bowed respectfully as he handed her the last of the dried fruit. "Doctor..." Megan playfully curtsied. "Doctor..." "So, a long way from California, Doctor." "But not as far as from New Jersey, Doctor." She squatted to store the kegs of lamp oil under the sink and thought for a moment. "Actually, I take that back. Davis and Princeton are probably about the same distance from here. Or did you say you live in Madeira now?" He nodded. "The islands are my home. I haven't been back to New Jersey since graduation." All the groceries were now unpacked and stored away. He nodded at her politely and excused himself. As Megan walked him to her door, a bright flash of lightning lit the room, followed immediately by a clap of thunder so loud they both felt the vibrations. Sheets of dark rain lashed at the windows. An impulse of generosity came over Megan. "Would you like to stay for dinner? My roommates will be here shortly. Our bread was just baked yesterday, and we have garden vegetables and fresh eggs and sausage! There's enough for five." "You're very kind, but I have a meeting starting shortly on the other side of the base." Alvaro studied her expression of disappointment for a moment. "But tomorrow evening I'll be free. Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner? Our briefing said there would be some safe restaurants just outside the base." Megan sighed and shook her head. "Oh, they're safe enough. But it's nothing I can afford." "Oh, I'll be happy to pick up the tab. Seriously." "Are you sure? You're very kind, but I hardly know you, and a dinner there is a week's wage for me." "Very sure. Please?" "Well..." With the current scarcity of food, a man offering an unknown woman a meal would normally expect a sexual payment in return. But Megan didn't think Alvaro was soliciting her for sex and thus his offer was not impolite. Accepting such a courtesy offer on the other hand would be almost shockingly rude. The social norm was for Megan politely to decline. But Megan realized she had actually been hoping Alvaro would have accepted her offer tonight. She decided to trust her instincts about the sincerity of his request. "Okay! What time would you like to go?" Alvaro stood by the door and gave her a kind smile. "Seven be okay?" "I'll be ready. Thank you!" They gave each other brief nods and then he departed. It was Megan's turn to make dinner for her roommates, and she whistled happily by the light of the small lantern as she worked. The next evening... The restaurant was worn but clean and cozy, with comfortable leather seats and real electric lights and even a working ceiling fan for circulation. It was also less than a quarter full. The waitress had told Megan and Alvaro that business had been drying up over the last year, and this was now a typical crowd even for a Saturday night. Megan recognized the few people dining. They were high-level officers and their wives from the base, and they had given her brief nods of recognition when she and Alvaro had arrived. The base commander had even given a respectful nod to Alvaro. Megan was rather glad the place was not crowded. It made it easier to talk, and the lack of people around them made her date seem more intimate. Megan's eyes went wide as the waitress delivered her dish. It was a large breast of chicken, artistically served on a bed of imported bell peppers and mushrooms and brown rice, with a generous portion of steaming broccoli on the side. And this after shrimp cocktails?! She hadn't eaten this well in... Actually, it was so long ago, she couldn't remember when, certainly not since coming to Texas. She was wearing her one good dress, white with a flowery print. It had short sleeves and a hem just below the knees. It was somewhat out of style for women to show bare calves and arms in public, and Megan would never have worn such a dress in the larger cities. Women had been known to attract suicide bombers in such garb by affronting their standards of religious decency. But the Fort Hood area was much more laid back, and Megan decided to chance it. She was glad she did. The dress showed off her figure, and several times as they walked to dinner she had noticed Alvaro glancing at her in open admiration. They had agreed not to discuss Alvaro's mission while at the restaurant, so the conversation focused mainly on Megan. Megan wound up describing most of her life's history as they ate. By the time dessert arrived, she had walked him through Oregon and Washington and California and was finishing up with Texas. Megan gave a big smile as a small dish of homemade vanilla ice cream was laid before her, a perfect ending to a fine meal. It was genuine homemade ice cream, rich and creamy and with small embedded ice chips from the churn. Alvaro joined her for a few bites with his own dish, and then realized his date was enjoying her dessert so much, he waited until coffee was served before starting up the conversation again. "So, you care for the horses of the Texas Rangers?" Megan savored her first sip of coffee in two years. "That's right. I'm the principal equestrian doctor for a full troop, over two hundred mounts. Plus I'm on call tonight with the army stables, in case of emergencies." Earlier she had shown him the military cell phone in her purse, a coveted possession. "The army runs joint policing now with the Rangers. In the two years I've been here, they've become very integrated." "How's it working out?" "Very well. We had only two attacks in all of Bell County last year, and nothing this year except for one rogue bomber in January." Megan sighed. "That was a really bad one. Last year's attacks were against the power grid. The January bomber targeted the children's hospital. The police estimate over forty kilos of high-tech explosive. It collapsed the building." Alvaro grimaced. "It's a common target in Europe too. Such brutality, and it's so hard to decentralize such critical care facilities." "Yes, I know... and the extremists know too... We've tried to compensate, but... Tell me Alvaro, do you have horses in... where you come from?" "We do. We built extensive stables in the first half of the 2030's, just before the plague years. They came in very handy when we lost our shipments of oil." "Yes, I'm sure they did." Megan thought for a moment as she sipped her coffee and shuddered. "The plague years... I lost so many classmates in 2036. It was my last year in junior-high." Alvaro looked at her sympathetically. "The Satan Bug?" Megan shook her head. "No. Our school was attacked by extremists with automatic weapons. It happened during our graduation ceremony. The primary targets were our teachers, but almost half the senior students were killed too." She took a long sip, staring into her coffee cup for a moment. "You're right though. I lost classmates to the Satan Bug earlier in the term, so many friends, and my grandfather too. The anthrax attacks of 2037 were nothing in comparison." She paused for another sip and then added, "Portland now has laser detectors for the spores. If I remember correctly, the technology for that was invented at your Alma Mater about forty years ago." Alvaro nodded and sighed. Megan asked quietly, "Alvaro, did you lose many classmates to the Satan Bug?" He was silent for a long moment and then whispered back, "The strain that attacked us was much more lethal with the adults. Relatively few children were taken by the Bug, less than 3%... 2036, hell, what a year. Satan was the perfect name for the disease." Megan grimaced. "Oh my gosh, I remember. You're talking about the A-strain, aren't you?" His face was like stone. "We suffered 70% fatalities in the adult population." "My God," Megan hissed. "In a single year?!" "In a single month!" he hissed back, and then sighed at his outburst. "Forgive me. I was a senior in high school at the time... I lost both my parents." Megan shook her head to dismiss his apology, and then reached over and held his hand. It was a gentle human contact, and then she squeezed firmly. Alvaro acknowledged her compassion with his eyes and squeezed back. They finished their coffee in silence, Alvaro occasionally caressing the back of Megan's hand with his thumb. Megan felt a brief pang of embarrassment when the bill arrived, but Alvaro calmly paid with the new script and left a tip so generous that the waitress blinked before she took it. As they got up and to walk out of the restaurant, Megan offered Alvaro her hand again and he readily accepted. She took a deep breath as they came out into the street and into the evening air. It was delightfully cool after the day's heat. "Alvaro, you and I are about the same age. It's a great puzzle to me." He nodded. "I'll tell you more when we're back on the base." They walked in silence for a while. There was no moon, and as they left the lighted commercial district and the hum of the private generators, the streets became dark and silent, bordered by rows of empty and looted buildings. On impulse, Megan let go of Alvaro's hand and shyly pressed her hand against the small of his back. She was rewarded with his arm hugging her and his hand resting on her opposite side, in the curve of her hip. It was what Megan was hoping for. Holding each other closely, they walked until they reached the main gate and back to the security of the base. Megan decided to walk along the inside of the fence and take the long route home. "So," said Alvaro, gently holding her hip with one arm and gesturing to the base with the other. "This has been your home for the last two years?" "Just about. I got to Texas in early July of 2045, about a month after getting my doctorate. So much of the world was different back then, just two years ago. I rode the trains and the trips were completely uneventful, no bombing delays at all. People weren't even that concerned about hidden bombs. It seems so hard to imagine now..." Alvaro switched to Spanish. "Pick up any Spanish?" Megan answered slowly in Spanish. "A little, enough to understand... I have to guess sometimes... Speaking is even more difficult... I know I should know more. Mexico is so close. There is so little time to... learn? No, study. Study is the word I want. I studied... In school I studied..." Megan paused and switched back to English. "I don't know the Spanish word for Latin. That's what I studied in high school. Knowing the Latin roots was very useful for premed." "Yes, I can imagine." He smiled and then almost laughed. "Latin is the same word in both English and Spanish." He gave her a joking smile. "Ever think of being a priest? The church in Rome did open up the option for women a few years ago." "Yes, I know! So you think I'd be good at giving Latin Masses huh?" She laughed good naturedly. "I'm also fluent in Hebrew, both modern and liturgical." "Ah. That's interesting." Megan nodded. "The language was spoken by part of my family. My mother's mother is Jewish. I spent a lot of time in Portland studying the Hebrew Bible with her. It was fun! A lot of weekends my grandmother would take me to the main city library and we would study ancient Semitic languages and how people guessed they were pronounced. We practiced with each other." "Ah, then you must know about the Sidon dictionary scrolls of the ancient Canaanites." "Know about them?! That's what we were studying! The scrolls were incredible, clear proof that the Canaanites were the inventors of our alphabet. I remember when the news broke in the summer of 2030. I had just turned six. Our library got complete copies by the fall. What a find! Extensive cross reference tables between the Hebrews and the Canaanites. People knew they had writing and books, but before the scrolls their language was almost completely lost, just a few inscriptions on tombs." Alvaro nodded thoughtfully. "Is it similar to Hebrew?" "Well, it's a Semitic language, somewhat similar to liturgical Hebrew and some say even closer to Aramaic. The grammar is almost the same and many words are either identical or have the same roots. You could almost guess the Hebrews and the Canaanites could half understand each other. And then there are lots of words that seem to have completely different roots and pronunciations." She paused and sighed. "Just a hobby. It's been so long since I've had time for a hobby." " But you know how to speak it?!" "Well, there's a lot of guesswork involved but yeah. There were pronunciation guides in the scrolls, phonetic cross references into the Hebrew." "Say something in the language of the Canaanites." "Okay!" Megan paused for a moment and looked at the stars. And then the dead language came to life. "The sky is clear and a young woman's heart sings in happiness." "Wow, that does sound a bit like Hebrew." "Well, not too much like modern Hebrew. Do you speak it?" "Hebrew? No, not at all. What did you say?" Megan paused for a moment and then told him. They walked for a long while in silence, and then Megan asked, "Alvaro, is Portuguese much different than Spanish?" Alvaro smiled. "The difference perhaps is similar to the one between Hebrew and Canaan. There are many words that are greatly different, and also so much similarity that you can almost get by in one language by knowing the other. I'm okay in Spanish, speak it about as well as English, but I'm much more comfortable in Portuguese. I'm really impressed with your language skills Megan." "Enough of me!" she replied, giving her date an affectionate hug. "We're back inside the base now. You promised to tell me about Madeira!" "Okay. What would you like to know?" "Everything! Start with the most important." Alvaro paused for a second and then said, "Das ilhas, as mais belas e livres." Megan was silent for a moment. "What a beautiful language. So that's Portuguese." Alvaro nodded, "And the motto of Madeira: Of all islands, the most beautiful and free." "Ah. You love your home very much, don't you?" Alvaro laughed. "The islands are impossible not to love. They form the top of a massive shield volcano, ancient, five million years old. The ocean floor is 6 km below us, and the highest point is Pico Ruivo, 1862 meters above sea level. That's..." He paused for a second, "... just over 6100 feet." "Oh, the U.S. has been on the metric system for years now. I know what meters are." "Yes of course. Apologies." Megan gave his waist a brief squeeze. "Alvaro, I was just kidding!" She held him for a while and then commented, "I looked up Madeira in a political atlas yesterday. It mentioned the country was created only twenty years ago." "Yes. We became independent on the fiftieth anniversary of our autonomy from Portugal. The first step happened on July 1, 1976." Megan nodded. "Was in a good decision?" Alvaro thought for a moment. "I think so. We managed to avoid the religious wars on the Iberian peninsula. Such horror! To destroy all beliefs that are not your own, to spread such death and misery, and then claim you are the only solution to the misery you yourself created!" "Yes, I know. It's amazing such insanity is so effective... So, what kind of government did Madeira pick?" Alvaro gave Megan a small squeeze on her waist and a smile of gratitude. He realized she was nudging him to get off the topic of terrorism and be more cheerful. "Our government is a modified version of the U.S. system. There's a single integrated House of Congress, a hundred-member legislature elected by thirteen districts. The executive branch is elected at-large, as are all the judges." Megan took a moment to consider. She hadn't expected such a wealth of detailed information. "You have at-large elections for all your judges? That's interesting." Alvaro nodded. "The idea was to have a uniform judiciary across the districts." He sighed and took a deep breath, giving Megan another friendly hug on her waist. Megan thought for while and then asked, "I'm curious. You said an integrated Congress? What does that mean?" "Well, there are thirteen districts, ranging in size of thirty-nine Representatives for Funchal to one for Porto Santo. When Congress votes on a bill or a budget, the votes are counted two ways, by individual Congressperson and by the number of districts in favor of the proposal. If there is majority approval from both views, the proposal passes and the decision is final. If there is affirmation from just one view, the president decides the issue." "Oh, I get it. Neat! It's a modified version of a U.S. Presidential veto." "Well, somewhat. Your President's veto can only be overridden by a two-thirds vote in both your Houses. Our President's veto is much more limited. It's not really a veto at all. He or she has political cover. Either a majority of districts or a majority of Congressional votes will be in support of the President, no matter what the decision." Megan nodded. "I like it! And how do you deal with ties?"" "It's very simple. Any ties again allow the President to decide the issue." Alvaro looked up at night sky and took a deep breath. "The thought was to combine the benefit of a Two House Congress with the efficiency of One House. Your Senate and House of Representatives have to negotiate different versions of the same bill. With our system, the integration of the district perspective and the per-capita perspective is automatic. It's the same group of people." "Thanks for telling me all this. My political atlas had none of this kind of detail. And do you have a Supreme Court?" "Not in the U.S. sense. We do have a Superior Appellate Court for judicial review." Megan shook her head. "That's not what I mean. How do you resolve Constitutional issues?" "We don't have a Constitution." "Oh wow, really? So your liberties aren't protected?" Alvaro was quiet for a number of steps, and then finally spoke. "We look at the matter a little differently. We believe it is the responsibility of the people who write the law to interpret the law. The judiciary's job is to administer the law, definitely not to come up with novel ways of interpreting it." "But your liberties aren't protected." "Well, not in the U.S. sense. If two laws are found to be in possible conflict, the matter is referred to the legislature for resolution. It's their job to make the law consistent. And there's supposed to be a slight bias against precedent with the judiciary. In cases of conflict, the more recent law is considered to have more standing." "What? Really?" "Well... I guess judges are allowed some discretion before Congress acts. Megan?" "Uh huh?" "You're quite right. Privacy in Madeira isn't as protected as it used to be in the U.S. But you've had martial law in the U.S. for what, three years now?" She nodded. "Yeah, just about." She gave a deep sigh. "I see your point. We had our rights to privacy protected by a Constitution that was almost impossible to change, and the extremists used the rights as a cloak and we couldn't adapt." She leaned her body closer to him. "Tell me more about what your home is like. And all I could see on the map were two dots on an ocean. How large are the islands? What are they like?" Alvaro smiled at her interest. "Well, Madeira is the main island with 741 sq km. It has a mountainous interior with radial ravines running to the coast. Porto Santo is the other inhabited island, much smaller, 42 sq km, about 40 km to the northeast of the main island at the closest tip to tip. Slightly closer to the southeast are some small rocky islands, Die Ilhas Desertas, in a line about a dozen km long and very thin. Total land area of the archipelago is 797 sq km." "And where do you live?" He paused, and with the flat of her hand Megan felt a slight tension in the muscles near the small of his back. She began to wonder why her simple question would cause such a reaction, and then he said, "I grew up on Porto Santo. Now I have a home in Funchal, the capital." "Oh yes, you mentioned that name before. Funchal?" "From the Roman times, for fennel. It grows there profusely. The Romans called the archipelago the Purple Islands in honor of a very pretty flower, Geranium Maderense." Megan nodded. "It must be difficult, living on such small islands, so isolated." He shook his head. "It's been a blessing Megan, these last thirty years. The isolation has saved us." "Ah. Are you self sufficient?" Alvaro shrugged. "Not quite. Almost. We're working very hard now to become so. The current population for both islands is about 120,000. Tourism used to be a prime industry. Now there's much more farming." "Yes, of course. And what do you grow?" "Commercially? Sicilian beets, wheat and corn, grapes for wine, bananas, spices. We produce an amber-colored dessert wine." He smiled proudly and boasted, "It's very famous, and deserves to be." He paused for a moment. "We trade extensively with the West African Union. And almost every family has a personal vegetable garden, like here. Most of our protein comes from fishing. We raise chickens too, and goats and sheep for milk and cheese. Much of the milk is reserved for the children." Megan felt a brief shiver as she remembered eating the rich ice-cream for dessert. "Yes, it's the same here. The milk is for the children. Thank God for calcium tablets." They walked quietly for a while. Megan thought silently, "Very little milk left, a perfect match for the lack of children. When was the last time I saw an infant? My gosh, not since California..." But that thought seemed too bitter to voice. She said out loud, "And where do you get your metals?" He blinked and then grinned. "We do a lot of trading, but mostly from recycling. You wouldn't believe the amount of rubbish that was left over from the twentieth century, landfills packed with broken cars! The islands are more pristine now than they have been in centuries!" He paused and added quietly but proudly, "And we have a first-class health system. There were seventeen hundred healthy children born last year." Megan gasped. "Are you at breakeven?" He shrugged. "The population has grown over 10% since the plague, but that's because of our very young age profile. If the current birth rates hold steady, we'll expand a bit more and then drop back to about where we are now. But as for what the real future will be, who knows?" "Yes, of course. But you're still doing so much better than here. If you looked around, you'd see there are almost no young children in Bell County at all." Megan paused for a moment, trying to think of a more pleasant topic. "And where are your horses?" "On both islands. Most of the stables on the main island to the east and north of Funchal, in the farm areas." "My gosh, this sounds so idyllic. What would ever induce you to leave, especially for a place like Ft. Hood, Texas?" "Well..." He paused for a moment and chuckled. "It was never our intention to come here. These meetings were scheduled for Houston..." Another pause, and then very quietly, "There was a threat. I can't be more specific. Your government suggested we move the negotiations here." "And what are you negotiating?" Megan felt Alvaro struggling for how to respond. "Commerce..." he said vaguely. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked." "Oh, I don't mind. I'd be curious too." "You're such a puzzle to me Alvaro! How can someone so young hold such an important government office?" She hugged him. "Can you tell me anything about what your position is, without getting into specifics?" "Ah, on this trip, I guess I'm sort of a science advisor, to help with the bargaining." "Oh. So you work for your government's Commerce Department?" "The Energy Department, actually." In the white light from the guard towers, Megan saw Alvaro frown, as though he thought he had said too much. She couldn't understand why. His comment seemed innocent enough. She tried to change subjects. "And you use the horses for farming?" "Well, they're there as a backup certainly. But except for Porto Santo, they're mostly used for recreation. Riding in the mountains or along the coast, it's so beautiful..." Megan leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. "My heart longs to see your home." "Want to come back with me?" A giggle. "Right! Alvaro, my government owns me." Megan nestled her head against him. "Hmmm?" Alvaro accepted her offer and leaned his head against hers, breathing in her fragrance and sighing at the clean smell of her hair, enjoying its softness against his cheek. He leaned in closer and the hair tickled his ear. It felt delightful. Megan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The close contact with her date almost made her lose her train of thought, but then she remembered. "My education costs were huge, over $80,000 in student loans. And we've had rampant deflation for the last several years. Everything is falling apart, and it would take me 200 years to earn my debt now." "Two hundred years?" Alvaro whispered. "Truly?" "Uh huh. My debt carried over one-for-one into the new script. I'm paid $8 a week plus basic housing, and I have to eat! My dinner tonight was a week's salary. I wasn't joking." Alvaro pulled his head away and stared at her. "My gosh Megan. Are you a slave?" "Oh, where would I go? I have security here, subsidized food and friends and a safe place to live and a job that I love. I really can't complain." Alvaro was silent in words but was speaking with his body. He leaned close and lightly kissed her near the top of her head. His arm remained around her waist holding her, his hand gently caressing her hip. They returned to their living quarters. Surprisingly the hall lights had power. Alvaro walked Megan to her door. She turned and smiled at him. She had thought this last moment might be awkward, thought with current conventions he might expect to sleep with her as payment for the meal. But his eyes were without lust, filled only with admiration and tender affection. Megan gulped as she realized no one had offered her such emotions in many years. She whispered, "Thank you for a truly enchanting evening Alvaro." He tried to speak. The words wouldn't come, and then words became unnecessary. Before either of them realized it, they were in each other's arms, sharing a kiss that seemed to bridge the great gulf between their two lives. And then nothing in Megan's universe existed except the arms enfolding her, the hand caressing her hair and the back of her neck and the lips touching hers. Her heart cried out in sorrow as the kiss ended. "Good night sweet Megan," he whispered. "God be by your side." Her lips quivered. "Will I ever see you again?" "I hope so." He sighed and looked as if he wanted to say more but then stopped himself. They shared one last brief hug and smile, and then Megan retired to her home. ------- Chapter 2: Bon Voyage Three days later. Time: Tuesday, May 14, 2047 8:44 AM twelve km north of Ft. Hood, Texas Megan stood quietly watching Little Thunder from an adjacent stall. The mare was the finest Morgan horse Megan had ever seen and was about to produce her first foal. The birthing so far had gone without a hitch, and Megan was very pleased with the performance of her assistant Private Collins. Megan had dropped into a role of quiet observer almost an hour ago. Her mind drifted back to the weekend. While she was at work on Sunday, Alvaro's party had apparently left the base and there was no indication they were ever coming back. Megan had spent the last two days working to convince herself that Saturday night was exactly what she had called it, one enchanting evening, nothing less and nothing more. "But this was different," a small voice inside her head insisted. Megan shook her head and took a deep breath. The voice was quieter now than yesterday, and soon it would be silent. "Did I do something wrong Ma'am?" "Huh?" Megan looked at the Private. "No, not at all. You're doing a fantastic job Derrick, flawless. I'm very proud of you." She paused for a moment. "I was just day dreaming about something else." Derrick nodded and got back to the mare. "Won't be long now, a half-hour maybe." Megan studied the mare and nodded. "I think you're right." She took another deep breath and looked around the barn. They had ample light. The large barn doors faced due east, and the morning sun was streaming directly in now. Megan would have wished it to be a few degrees cooler for the mare, given how humid the air was, but conditions weren't bad. She wondered if she should trust Derrick with the birthing and get back to her rounds. "But it was different, and you know it was!" the soft internal voice persisted. "Love is so rare..." "Shut up!" Megan's mind snapped at the voice. "Just shut up! You want to know something? He's probably married!" "No!" "Then why didn't he want to bed me?! He probably had some lingering guilt about his wife!" "Search your memories woman! You know that's not true!" "I probably should have asked him if he had children!" "Megan, that's not what the evening was like! You are deceiving yourself!" "Shut up! If it were love, he would have at least left a message! He would have found a way!" The inner voice was silent. "Aha! Got'cha! Now shut up!" A military trooper came out of the communications room at the other end of the barn and ran up to her stall. "Dr. O'Connor Ma'am, the commander wants to see you immediately!" Megan shook her head and wiped her wet eyes as she forced her mind to switch gears. "At his office?" "Yes Ma'am, and he told me to stress the word immediately!" Megan was a civilian, and her official employers were the Mounted State Rangers, not the military. Still, to refuse the order was unthinkable. She turned to her assistant. "You'll be okay Derrick?" He nodded. "I'll be fine Ma'am, thank you." "I think so too. You run into any trouble, page Dr. Campbell." "Yes Ma'am, I will." Megan stared at the man for a moment. He was not just her assistant. He was also a good friend. Megan snapped her body to attention and gave him a crisp salute. Derrick blinked and then stood and did the same. Megan then ran out of the barn. She unhitched her horse and galloped back to base. It was usually a long wait for anyone to see the commander, but Megan was escorted into his office seconds after she arrived. His expression to her was very unexpected and it took Megan a few seconds to decipher it. She finally decided it looked like incredulous laughter. "Don't bother to sit!" he ordered as his aide closed the door. Megan stood obediently, still panting a bit from her gallop and her race into the building. "Miss O'Connor..." He paused for a moment. "Megan, you've got a big decision to make and no time to make it. There's a jet at Houston taking off for Madeira at 11 AM today. Do you want to be on it?" "Sir?!" "I'm fueling the Cessna to take you there. But I need an answer now!" Megan sputtered. "I did some reading sir, early on Sunday. I thought only Madeira nationals were allowed on the islands." He nodded and then surprised Megan by laughing. "Girl, just a few minutes ago our State Department requested that I get you down to Houston to catch that plane, and they put the word request in quotes. You catch my meaning? I can't order you to leave, and I realize you deserve time to think about this, but..." He looked at her silently for second, and then the long ethnic friendship between them finally touched and softened his eyes. "Lass," he whispered in a Scottish accent, "yee'd be daft not to go." A resounding cheer of affirmation echoed from Megan's inner voice. She cried out loud, "Agreed! Do I have time to collect my things?" "No! Sorry. You'll have to say your goodbyes with e-mails from Madeira. I've taken the liberty of packing the bags from your quarters. You might want to use the time on the Cessna to prioritize your possessions. I have no idea what your weight allowance might be." He glanced at the clock. "Megan, to make that flight, you should be already in the air. You know where the runway is. Dismissed!" Megan nodded and took a deep breath. She blinked away the tears in her eyes. "Goodbye Brian!" she half shouted as she turned and ran from the office to her horse. She galloped directly to the plane, her mount bucking a bit at the end from the startup sound of the loud engine. A maintenance man nearby was securing the hose from the fuel truck. Her flight was a single-engine propeller plane, and it wasn't until two minutes later as her plane was lifting off that she realized she had forgotten to leave behind her leather riding chaps. Megan didn't recognize the man next to her, but he treated her with courtesy and seemed a very professional pilot. "This is a Cessna Skyhawk Ma'am, forty-some years old but very well maintained. We'll be cruising at 2500 meters at a speed of 225 kph, about as fast as this plane wants to go. Estimated time for touchdown in Houston is... 10:50 AM." "10:50 AM?!" He held up a finger to ask her to wait and then spoke into his microphone. "Roger Houston Control, I copy." He then turned to her. "Yes Ma'am. In another hour, we could have had something faster, but..." He finished with a shrug. Megan nodded and bit her lip. They were not an Air Force base and the cost of aviation fuel was so astronomical, she still couldn't quite believe she had her own private flight to Houston. And whether she made the connecting flight to Madeira or not was totally out of her control. She decided she was not going to worry about it. "Ma'am?" "Yes lieutenant?" "The commander asked me to tell you something. He figured he might not get the chance himself." Megan nodded expectantly. "The commander hosted some talks between these foreign diplomats and our State and Defense Departments." Megan nodded again. "The commander didn't attend the talks himself, but he said he noticed one curious thing. I take it you had dinner with a guy named Alvaro Lopes?" "Yes, that's right." "The commander said he held the most junior diplomatic rank of the group, some sort of science advisor. But he also thought it might be this Alvaro guy who was running the show from their end, just by watching how they interacted with each other. You know what I mean?" Megan was silent for a moment and then replied, "Yes, I do." The pilot nodded and got back to his flying. Megan settled back into her co-pilot chair and tried to relax, her mind in deep thought. The engine was loud but once they reached their cruising altitude, the sound became more bearable as the pilot reduced throttle to 80%. The plane leveled off and began to fly at its top cruising speed. Megan read their heading on the dashboard as a few degrees east of southeast. They were flying directly to the Gulf coast. For a while it seemed they were also flying directly into the sun, but then some dark clouds blotted out the glare. A few minutes after 10 AM, Megan stretched and unsnapped her harness and turned to the empty seats behind her. Across the seats lay two traveling bags that had been taken from under her cot at her quarters. It was everything in the world that she owned. Almost all the items were clothes. There was one shoebox for everything else, pictures of a family she hadn't seen in years, a thousand dollars of useless bills in various denominations she was keeping as souvenirs, a small purse with $73.48 in the new script that represented her life savings, her birth certificate and citizen papers and diplomas. Under the papers her eyes caught the letter her older brother had written her as he lay dying during the Portland water poisoning attack of 2043. It occurred to her she had not read his letter since coming to Texas. How had she allowed that to happen? The pilot was talking quietly to Houston Control, in a voice that seemed infinitely calm. After he signed off he turned to Megan. "Ma'am, you see those dark clouds ahead? Houston tells us we have a bit of turbulence coming up. You might want to put your harness back on." "Yes, thank you lieutenant." Megan closed her bags and settled down. "Turbulence indeed," she thought to herself as she clicked herself back in and gazed at the swiftly approaching blackness. "But nothing like what's in my stomach." She stared through the windshield at the churning thunderstorm and tried not to shiver. The George Bush Intercontinental Airport at Houston was a ghost of its former glory. Megan guessed it had no more than few civilian flights a week. Commercial air travel was in its death throes due to the price of oil, and there was continuous debate in Congress whether to phase out the massive subsidies and let the civilian aviation industry collapse completely. It was no surprise then when Houston Control gave the Cessna immediate clearance to land. They were buffeted by rain squalls and fierce cross winds all the way down, and then the pilot made a landing so gentle that Megan didn't even realize they were on the ground. They taxied for a few moments after braking, and then the pilot let out a loud whoop. Megan thought at first he was celebrating his perfect landing, but then he said hoarsely, "Oh Lordy, look! Now there is one piece of sweetness!" Up ahead through the rain a large and very sleek looking jet was appearing. "What is it?" asked Megan. She stared in wonder at the sharply tipped wings. "A Bombardier Global Merchant! Looks like their last model too, from the 2030s. This side of Mach-One Ma'am, this is as good as good gets. Forgive me if I drool for a while." He gazed at the jet. "Look at the size of those engines!" he whispered in awe. "Combined thrust of seventy-six kilo-Newtons. That sweetness can lift!" Megan gave him a quick smile. "Permission to drool granted lieutenant. So that's my plane, huh?" The pilot nodded slowly as he followed a ground crew's signals that were guiding his Cessna. He finally taxied into position about forty meters from the port wingtip of the jet and then the person outside in the yellow slicker raised his two red-glowing wands into an overhead X. The pilot cut his power and the Cessna's engine became silent. "A pleasure flying with you Ma'am." A group of people were running up to their plane. Megan turned to thank the pilot but then her door opened and she was hustled out into the drenching rain. She barely remembered to grab her two bags. They made a mad dash across the tarmac and then her escort left her as she completed her final run up a slippery stair ramp to a portal just behind the pilot cabin. The jet door closed and sealed behind her seconds after she entered. Megan felt a gentle shift in both the cabin pressure and the plane as they began to move. She shivered for a moment in the cool dry air, a marked contrast to the swampy air outside. "Welcome to Madeira, Dr. O'Connor. My name in Cintia." a young Spanish-looking woman in a crisp uniform said to her in greeting. She appeared to be about Megan's age. Megan stared at her without comprehension. She decided to try humor. "Oh? Did we land already?" Cintia smiled. "This jet has diplomatic rights. You entered Madeira sovereign territory when you walked through the door." "Oh. Sorry." Cintia gave her a brief shrug and then a kind smile as she looked at Megan's soaked clothes and riding chaps. "You'll be able to shower shortly after take-off. But for now you'll have to strap in. We should be getting our final clearance as soon as we taxi into takeoff position." Megan stared at her. "Shower on the plane?" "Uh huh. This way please." Cintia led her to the ultra plush nine-passenger cabin area. Megan was in awe of the spaciousness. There was over two meters of head room where she stood, and the seats were arranged 3 x 3 with a single center aisle. There were two men and two women sitting in the front that Megan did not recognize. They gave her brief nods to acknowledge her presence. Then Megan's eyes lit on Alvaro. She flashed him a timid smile. He gave her a quick smile back, and then made a complex hand gesture with the phone he was using. Megan nodded her understanding. "Aisle seat be okay for now, Dr. O'Connor?" Cintia had magically procured a large white towel, and Megan realized she wanted to protect the plush leather seats from Megan's wet and dirty horse-smelling clothes. "Yes, that'll be fine." Megan looked around the cabin as Cintia laid out the towel. She finally noticed that her guide was wearing some sort of uniform. She asked politely, "Are you the stewardess?" Cintia smiled and nodded. "A little of everything. Mostly I'm the navigator and backup copilot, but I'll come back and assist you with anything you need." Cintia waited until Megan belted in, and then gave her a quick briefing on how to leave the plane in an emergency. A double-chime sounded, and with a last nod Cintia turned and went quickly forward into the pilot cabin. The lift-off was swift and very powerful, and the jet rose from the ground at a very steep angle, Megan guessed far more quickly than would ever be possible for the Cessna. As the plane neared its cruising altitude, Cintia returned from the pilot cabin and escorted Megan to the cargo area in the rear of the plane. There were numerous large crates securely strapped to the floor and walls. There was also a door leading to a plush bathroom. Cintia entered with Megan and described the operation of a small but ultra high-tech looking shower stall. "Once you lock the stall from the inside, nozzles will spray you in three directions with six liters a minute. It might not sound like much but it does a fantastic job. Normal cycle is for two minutes, but if you need more, the override is right here..." After finishing a short lesson on how to use the flushless toilet, Cintia gave her a kind smile and left. Megan looked around and gaped at the small bathroom. It was well lit, and everything seemed to be in sparkling mint condition. The richness seemed to glow with an aura of wealth and power. The only thing out of place seemed to be the reflection of the person Megan saw in the mirror. She nodded at herself with a shrug, and then disrobed and stepped into the shower. She paused for a moment before locking the stall and starting the cycle. "Am I really on a jet? It's so incredibly quiet in here, almost no noise, almost no vibration. It feels as if I'm in a building! How is this possible?" She faced the door, her eyes away from the nozzles as Cintia had instructed her, and locked the door. Megan was used to taking quick showers and she found this one super luxuriant. The super fast needle mists were remarkable in their quick cleaning and rinsing power. She soaped and washed everything including her hair in the first hundred seconds. Then she just relaxed for the last twenty, feeling her skin tingle from the hot sprays. There was an automatic hot-air drying cycle, and afterwards she got out and changed into some clean clothes from her bag, simple pants and a shirt. Feeling completely clean and refreshed, she headed back to the passenger cabin. She paused to look at the crates on her way through the well lit cargo area. Most of them bore NASA labels, and from the stenciling she guessed some sort of positioning control equipment. Then a transparent cargo box caught her attention. It was very securely strapped to the floor. The thin case was almost empty but a few small rectangles were visible and they had a very pretty golden shine. Megan knelt to examine them just to satisfy her curiously and then blinked when she realized they were gold ingots. Stamped on each one was the inscription, "Bank of Madeira, 500 grams gold, 99.9999% pure" and then a serial number. Megan shook her head in wonder. She finally returned to the passenger cabin and was happy to see Alvaro was off his phone. She raised her eyebrows and smiled at him, fighting an urge to laugh. They were sitting together a moment later. "Megan, the way this was handled must seem so ridiculous to you, but there was no other way." "I've got a million questions!" Alvaro's mind flashed back to their Saturday dinner. "Start with the most important." "Alvaro, what will I be when we land in Madeira?" He understood the deep meaning of her question and fear. "Not a concubine! God knows there too much of that in the world already. What will you become? Beautiful and free, like the islands. We truly need an experienced horse doctor. I've arranged a position for you. Everything else is up to you." Megan trembled and let out a huge sigh of relief. "I thought only Madeira citizens are allowed such jobs, or even to be on the islands." "You're perfectly correct. I have a set of papers for you to sign, and it would be a great boost to my diplomatic career if you would sign them before we land. The papers will grant you dual citizenship." Megan stared at him for a moment and then leaned back into her plush chair and whispered, "Alvaro, tell me what you've done." "Oh, pulled in a few favors with members of Congress. Accepting citizens from other countries is done on a case by case basis. Megan! You were too modest! You should have boasted to me that you were first in your veterinary class at U.C. Davis." "How do you know that?" "Congress wanted documentation on what they were voting on. I tried to swing it with just my own praise, but we wound up pulling your transcripts." "You didn't need my permission?" Alvaro blinked. "Your State Department got them for us. In Madeira, all adult education records are public. The issue of privacy never occurred to me. Did I..." "No, of course not! Why should I be offended? I'm just a little surprised, that's all." He paused for a moment. "Our cultures are a little different. Give yourself time for the adjustments." "Yes..." There was a brief flash of sunshine at Alvaro's window, and the view caught Megan's attention. Alvaro smiled. "Ever been on a plane before?" She grinned. "Once. Earlier today..." "Want to change places?" Megan gave a cheerful smile and nodded vigorously. After switching, she stared out the window for a long time. "My gosh, we're so high," she whispered. "My country..." She turned back to him and asked, "Alvaro, do you still think of this as your country too, with your dual citizenship?" "I try to. I took my oath seriously." Megan thought of papers she was about to sign. "But what if you or I were in a situation where the interests of the U.S. and Madeira started to diverge?" Alvaro gave a deep sigh. "Yes, I know. We're only human Megan. Sometimes life hands us difficult choices. As for me, Madeira is my home." He tried to shift to a more cheerful topic. "Here, let me link to the aircraft's computers and show you something." He typed on his laptop for a moment and presented her a large map. "Here's our flight path in yellow, Texas to Mississippi to Alabama to Georgia and then finally over the Carolinas. We'll be flying directly over the northern end of Roanoke Island at the coast a little before 1:30 PM Houston time." Megan stared in fascination. "And that little red dot on the yellow line is where we're right now?" "Yep." Megan looked back and forth between her window and laptop for a moment. In the time it had taken her to shower, they had flown above and beyond the thunderstorm. The clouds below were breaking up and she was getting a good view of patchy sunshine on the terrain below. She clapped her hands in childlike delight and exclaimed, "My gosh! This is so neat!" "Yeah, I know. I played for hours the first time I had this too. Here, take my laptop. This is how you zoom in. You can see how the display matches the terrain out the window." Megan played with the system for a while. "Wow. We'll be flying directly over Atlanta, Georgia... I've never been east of Texas..." She paused. "How high are we?" Alvaro leaned over and asked her to click an icon. It showed their height and air speed as 13,200 meters and 905 kph. A footnote also showed this represented 84% of the jet's maximum altitude of 15,710 meters and at 97% of its maximum cruising speed of 935 kph. "And we can fly all the way to Madeira without refueling?" It seemed to Megan that Alvaro suffered a very brief moment of regret, and then he said, "Easily. A Global Merchant with a light load is rated at 9,100 kilometers, and even as loaded as we are, Houston to Madeira is only 7,300 km." "As loaded as we are?" Alvaro nodded and gave her a brief history of the jet. "Madeira bought this plane in 2042 from the Arab Emirate of Dubai. Very few planes of this model were ever built. It's a combination of a small cargo transport and an executive business jet. The basic design is an oversized version of a Bombardier Global 5000 from the early 2000's, expanded 7% in all three dimensions. The plane's fuselage is based on a carbon nano-tube fiber mesh, incredibly strong and flexible. The weight savings are tremendous, allowing us to lift with a 4000 kg payload and 20,000 kg of fuel." Megan's eyes went wide. The thought of using twenty metric tons of incredibly precious aviation fuel for a single trip seemed beyond belief. She forced herself to gaze out the window to keep from laughing at the absurdity. The jet ride felt impossibly smooth. Megan thought if she closed her eyes, she could easily imagine herself sitting in a plush chair in a solid building. She spoke up. "Everything is so incredibly quiet! This is nothing like my ride in the Cessna. Is it because the engines are towards the rear of the plane?" She paused. "But even in my shower, everything was so quiet!" Alvaro gave her a slight shrug, as if trying to decide what to say. He finally commented, "It's a fantastic piece of technology." "It seems so hard to believe, 9100 km in a single trip..." Alvaro agreed with her and then added, "It's great for our needs. Madeira has a perfect location for trading. This jet can reach anywhere in North America except the southwest coast of Alaska, all of South America except for Southern Chile and Argentina, all of Africa, and as far east as western India and western China." Megan nodded and then advanced the display to the end of the flight, zooming down until the small details of the runway at the east end of Madeira were clearly visible. "I can't wait to see your country for real. It's so beautiful, even on the display." "Well, we'll be landing a little before 1 AM local time. You won't see much." He leaned over again and pointed out another icon to Megan. "Click on that. It'll display sunrise and sunset in the local time zone wherever you move the cursor. The default is today's date. You can set it for tomorrow... here." Megan interacted with the display for a moment. "So Madeira's sunrise tomorrow will be at 5:09 AM and sunset at 6:59 PM. My first experience with jetlag Alvaro, should be interesting." Alvaro laughed. "It's not particularly pleasant!" Cintia opened up a lunch buffet during their time over the Carolinas. Megan got a chance to chat with all the members of the passengers and crew. She was pleased to see that in addition to Cintia, the senior pilot was also a woman. Megan also became quick friends with the first copilot, a very gregarious guy by the name of Xanti, which he told her was Portuguese for James. At the end of lunch, Megan asked him if she could get a quick tour of the pilot cabin. His eyes flashed an expression of sorrow and for a brief moment, he looked at a loss for words. He finally said, "There are strict rules against that while we're in flight. I'll ask the captain if she'll allow a quick look from the doorway after we land." Megan politely nodded her gratitude. Besides Megan, the plane had four men and four women, and after sitting back down with Alvaro, she quietly told him how balanced the mix seemed. Alvaro gave her a short explanation. "We had no choice. After the plague of 2036, our society almost fell apart. We couldn't afford the waste of a gender bias." "Well, if this plane is any judge, you've done fabulously well since the plague. How did you do it, keeping hold of the technology I mean?" "Well... Truthfully? The answer is partly a State secret. But the other parts are just being good traders. And we have a very strategic position." "Ah, your air fields. I thought so!" "Yes. Very valuable to other countries for emergencies, commercial and military. I'm telling you this assuming you're becoming a citizen." Megan nodded and glanced out her window. They were now past the three-hour mark of their nine-hour flight, and her view of the Atlantic expanse was beautiful and clean. She turned back to Alvaro and grinned. "So, where do I sign?" ------- Chapter 3: Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay Nine months later. Time: Saturday, February 29, 2048 10:00 AM, the docks of Porto Santo Megan O'Connor sat dangling her legs off a wharf, relaxing and enjoying the cries of the sea birds. She was by a large artificial harbor near the southeastern end of Porto Santo, waiting for the monthly transport ship from the main island to dock, and she was expecting to see the ship in a few minutes. A short distance away her horse Feathers was tied up peacefully, alongside an additional mount for Alvaro when he arrived. She sat quietly and admired the beauty of the ocean and wildlife around her. Megan's arms and legs were bare and tan. She had put on a few kilos since coming to the islands, but it was all due to the excellent quality and availability of both food and exercise. The extra weight was all sleek muscle, and she knew she was in the best physical shape of her life. The sun was shining brightly now from due southeast, a pleasant change from the drenching rains of yesterday. This was the wet season and the rains were plentiful. The overnight low had been 16C, and currently the temperature was halfway to its expected high of 20C. It was an arch typical winter day, and Megan knew from experience that if you bumped up the numbers by 6C, it would be the typical range for a summer day in August. The numbers represented a mere 1C increase from what they were fifty years ago. The coldness of the surrounding deep ocean had so far spared Madeira of much of the world's global warming. Megan had a private joke with herself that if paradise had a climate, it would be that of Madeira. Porto Santo with its 42 sq km of land was 5.7% of the size of main island of Madeira, and with 1200 residents held 1% of the country's population. Once a plush vacation getaway for Europe's elite, the tiny island was now a fabulously successful year-round agricultural community, for reasons Megan still did not fully understand. She had first arrived at these docks by hitching a ride on a fishing boat on a sunny afternoon in mid May of 2047, one brief day after being dazzled by the richness and power of Funchal. The trip on the fishing boat had fascinated her almost as much as her jet flight two days previously. The boat was powered both by sails and a powerful hydrogen engine, and the nets were operated with battery-driven winches. Megan was amazed at first at the rich and varied harvest the crew delivered to the people of Porto Santo at the end of the day. But then an elder crewmember told her they had caught in five hours of work what his grandparent would have caught in one. The deep sea around Madeira was not nearly as fished out as the Caribbean, but it was still in sad shape. As she waited now for Alvaro's ferry, her mind drifted back to her first days on the island. Everything was so novel then! But now the small island was her home. She felt as if she knew almost every square meter, and each one was a treasure. Playing on the beaches, hiking on the short mountains or on the rough rocky coastlines, riding absolutely everywhere, it was one picture-postcard day after another. As in Texas, she had a challenging job that she loved. But unlike Texas, she also had lots of free time for recreation and reflection. And her soul had responded to the gentle beauty and the kindness around her, growing in ways she never realized were possible. Love! Twelve hundred people, and they as dear to her now as one large family. Her first day at Madeira, Megan remembered feeling shocked when Alvaro told her the position reserved for her was that of Lead Veterinarian of Porto Santo. Alvaro would continue to live and work on the main island. Megan was asked to commit to the job on Porto Santo for one year. She did, and for the first few weeks felt somewhat abandoned. But as the spring of 2047 turned to summer, she began to see Alvaro's point and the thoughtfulness behind her placement. Portuguese and English were both in common use on Madeira. Here on Porto Santo, almost everybody knew a little English but by tradition it wasn't used. It was full immersion for Megan into the new language, and she picked it up far more easily than if she had been at the capital. By the fall, she felt comfortable speaking in the language, before winter she realized she had switched to thinking in Portuguese, and on Alvaro's last visit at the end of January, he had paid her the ultimate compliment of saying she was speaking without an accent. Megan wasn't sure, but she suspected her dreams now were in Portuguese too. Beautiful and free. That's what Alvaro said he wanted her to be. And it had come to pass. She had a true and permanent place in the society around her, and it was totally independent of her relationship with Alvaro. In their dating now, when they would meet as the transport made its round trips on the last weekend of each month, they met as equals. Porto Santo! Her home! She knew it so intimately well, and yet her island still presented her some deep mysteries. Such dichotomy! Sometimes reality is just as it appears, and sometimes appearances can be deceiving. The dilemma that Megan faced when she first arrived was how to tell the difference. A smile crossed her face as she spotted the ship heading for the harbor. She had never known the modified naval frigate to be late, though on one month its service between Madeira and Porto Santo had been cancelled due to an extended 14,000 km round-trip trading expedition to Scandinavia and Russia. Megan knew the ship was used extensively for trading besides its month-end ferry service between the two home islands. A dock hand once told her the ship usually paid a monthly visit to Dar-el-Beida of the Islamic West African Union, the city once called Casablanca. The I.W.A.U. was Madeira's number one trading partner, and its port was only 800 km due east of Porto Santo. Over Christmas the ship made a more extensive excursion, traveling 2500 km to the north and east to trade with Ireland and the UK. The ship was named Discovery and with a length of 134 meters was rather small for its mission of deep-sea merchant. It had an unloaded displacement weight of 4800 tons and was a former Halifax-class military frigate. The ship was converted to a corvette transport in 2040, retaining almost all of its original firepower with the exception of the helicopter landing deck in the stern area which was converted to additional cargo and passenger space. The extensive missile, torpedo, and gun armament of Discovery had saved it more than once from pirates. Its high firepower to cargo ratio made it very unappealing for pirates to attack. It was the flagship of Madeira's tiny navy, which consisted of Discovery and twelve high-speed armed patrol boats that were hydrogen powered and used for local coastal defense. Discovery with its boats and land-based attack helicopters was a formidable weapon. The flagship had state-of-the-art battle control systems, and could coordinate the mini sea and air fleet into one integrated multi-point firing system. Megan pushed out her bare arms into the warm sunlight and stretched. What was her previous thought? Oh yes, dichotomy! She thought of the obvious facts of her first days here, and what an obvious fit her placement was. The tiny island of Porto Santo had a compact community hospital at the airport terminal complex near the center of the island. It had first-class facilities and staff. Adjacent to the human hospital was the animal clinic, equally well equipped but staffed by local farmers. They had a huge amount of practical experience but none the advanced training that Megan could offer. She immersed herself in farm-animal care and treatment, horses and goats, dogs and cats, ducks and chickens. There were even a few pigs and sheep and incredibly, a dozen milk-producing cows and three bulls. She would often partner with the human surgeons in the treatment of injured animals. And then there was the not so obvious, in fact, the incredible. Power! Electricity existed here in abundance, both at Madeira and even at tiny Porto Santo. In her nine months here, Megan had never known it to fail. Impossible! Like a dream from her childhood bedtime stories in Portland. Her Irish father would tell young Megan fables of a fast world bright with its power, in the times before the cruelty took the brightness away. Security about the abundance of power was a concern for everybody. There were strict standards against exposing electric lights to the outdoors, especially at night. The island was isolated, but such displays might arouse the puzzlement of ships passing on the horizon or people analyzing satellite photos. Occasional accidents would of course happen, but the island tried to emit no more light than what would be typical for 1,200 people using lamp-oil. On the main island of Madeira, the standards were considerably more relaxed. It was public knowledge that the high mountains provided hydroelectric power, and there was an extensive farm of twelve 2.0 MW wind turbines on Die Ilhas Desertas, the thin narrow island chain 35 km southeast of Madeira. It was power that had saved the society in 2036. But at Porto Santo, where was the power coming from? Although Megan's island home of Porto Santo had no hydroelectric power, there were three 2.0 MW wind turbines on Ilhen na Cahleta, a tiny island at the southeastern tip of Porto Santo. Megan would often ride her horse along the southern beach and gaze westward across the narrow 500 meter channel. The three huge wind towers were clearly visible, ninety meter diameter rotors with their hubs a hundred meters above the ground. Almost everyone on the island thought that these three towers were the sole source of Porto Santo's power. But were they? Were they enough to run the very capable hydrogen disassociation plant and desalination plant and water storage systems that were also on Ilhen na Cahleta? Were they enough to run the sewerage treatment plant on the opposite eastern end of Porto Santo? Were the three towers enough to run all of Megan's household appliances and first-class plumbing and give her all the concealed lighting and hot water she would ever want? In her idle time, she played with the numbers, and they just didn't add up. So where did all the power come from? And the fresh water! The desalination plant produced a tremendous amount of fresh water, enough to do extensive irrigation during the hot dry summer last year. The common attitude among the local population was just to shrug and avoid prying too deeply into how the government was performing its magic. Her husband-to-be Alvaro Lopes was universally held in almost reverent regard. In the year after becoming Madeira's managing director of Energy in late 2041, power outages became a thing of the past, and fresh water was now abundant. No one wanted to ask the probing question of why. In addition to the remote island wind farms, the Madeira Energy Department ran two very well secured power facilities, one in the high mountains of Madeira where Alvaro worked and one in the high hills of Porto Santo. Megan had often ridden or hiked up the hill to the boundary of the local power plant, both to enjoy the view of the island and to exchange friendly waves with the guards. But the power plant's interior was the one complex on the island she had never visited. Where did all the power come from? The problem came to the forefront of her attention in the late summer of 2047, when for several weeks the west trade winds died and it was still business as usual for the island's power consumption. In quiet talks with the locals, Megan discovered that before 2042, the still air of the doldrums would have resulted in major hardships of spoiled food in non-working refrigerators and running the farms purely on human and horse power. But no longer. Where did all the extra power come from? After pressing her friends to discuss this, Megan found that there were several ideas existing in the local population. The first was that additional power was being delivered from Madeira through an undersea power cable to Ilhen na Cahleta. Megan was sure that wasn't right. Porto Santo had 20% of the country's wind turbines and 1% of its population, and the main island was much more prodigious in its use of power. The thought of Madeira shipping power to Porto Santo was absurd. What was in the powerhouse? The island's second conjecture was that the government had somehow procured and installed compact SNAP (Space Nuclear Auxiliary Power) generators for the days and weeks when the wind died. Megan did some research. SNAP power units were basically cans of plutonium-238 dioxide surrounded by radiator fins with thermocouples in between. Megan had done very well in basic college physics back at U.C. Davis. It wasn't her calling but she understood the concepts. Megan's problem was that she saw people charging electric farm equipment on the island's power grid during the weeks when the wind had died. Could SNAP generators meet that kind of demand? Her back-of-the-envelope calculations suggested a minimum of a hundred tons of plutonium dioxide to support the usage she had seen. Where in the world could anyone ever get a hundred tons of plutonium dioxide? At a very basic level, the idea seemed ridiculous. And to make matters absolutely maddening, she was sure Alvaro knew the true answer to the apparent magic. In some quiet times with her, when they were alone together in the evenings, he did everything but openly admit there was a hidden explanation, and Megan in her mercy would stop her questioning only because she could see how much she was distressing him. She thought perhaps if she researched his background, she might discover the key to the mystery. Without telling Alvaro, she downloaded from Madeira's online library all the papers he published in the late 2030's and his doctoral thesis from Princeton. Megan was stunned by the quality of Madeira's main library. It was located at the University at Funchal, and its archives were vast, world-class. Megan guessed it probably surpassed the current U.S. Library of Congress. Megan O'Connor was born in Portland, Oregon on July 10, 2024. She started grade school a year early and then skipped a grade, starting junior high in 2033 as a young nine-year old and then spending three years each in junior high, high school, premed undergrad at the University of Washington, and then finally veterinary grad student at U.C. Davis. Megan was very proud of her achievement of going from junior-high to her Doctorate in just nine years. Alvaro had done it in eight, and starting from a much younger age. He was a true wunderkind, spending only three years in grade school and two years in junior high and entering high school as a young nine-year old, the same year Megan entered junior high. Megan was flabbergasted when he told her his birthday was August 03, 2024. She was actually older than he was by a few weeks. When Alvaro had come to Princeton as a grad student in the fall of 2039, he was barely fifteen years old, but he already had an extensive list of publications in refereed journals. He received his Ph.D. in June of 2041, two months before his seventeenth birthday. He was among the first of the foreign students to swear mandatory allegiance to the United States. And his Princeton thesis! What a disappointment for Megan, at least in terms of solving the energy mystery. It was on cosmology, the creation and lifecycle of the universe. His ideas on cosmological evolution were so revolutionary that he had resurrected an extinct field of physics, pulled several world-renowned Princeton professors out of retirement just to work with him. It was a revolutionary advance, with a whole new branch of fundamental physics that Alvaro in his thesis called singularity mechanics. His approach seemed to solve three distinct long-standing problems with astrophysics and deep-sky observations from the 2010's. The first had to do with the inflationary phase of the early universe, just after its conception in the Big Bang. The second was the Mario Livio anomaly, concerning the gravitational lensing of the cosmos. The third was the apparent super quiescence of black holes. Alvaro's work was considered seminal for solving all three major problems. Megan's problem was that she had no idea how to understand his work. The mathematics was simply too difficult for her to follow. But it certainly didn't seem the type of thesis that would explain how to get the equivalent of a hundred tons of plutonium dioxide on a hilltop. Her love was a brilliant astrophysicist and probably among the world's top mathematicians, and his current work remained a complete mystery to her. Alvaro, her love! The transport ship Discovery was docking now, and in a few minutes they would be in each other's arms again. Two wonderful days of hiking and riding were before them. Picnic lunches in the hills, leisurely strolls on the beach, riding their beautiful horses, two electric-light dinners with superb farm-fresh food, two wonderful nights of being with her future husband. They had not announced anything yet, and some of their friends were beginning to roll their eyes and ask what they were waiting for. But unknown to all their friends, they had not yet begun to sleep with each other. Megan was quite willing. It was Alvaro who wanted to hold back until they were married, or perhaps at least until they announced their engagement. The reasons were the morals Alvaro's parents had taught him as a child. The question of whether Megan was a virgin had nothing to do with the decision. They had discussed the issue briefly. Alvaro was a virgin and Megan was not. Megan knew the wait was almost over. They met only one weekend a month, but they had been talking and e-mailing with each other daily through the undersea cable since her first day on the island. They both knew each other's character intimately. They both owned each other's love, and soon they would announce to their country that they owned each other's bodies. Megan smiled. Perhaps as early as this weekend, and if not this month, probably the next. The long wait was almost over. And he was here! Her true love was walking down the plank to the docks. She got up and raced to meet him. ------- Chapter 4: St. Bridget's Complaint Time: Saturday, February 29, 2048 9 PM, lower level of Megan's quarters Alvaro and Megan came back to Megan's house at 9 PM after a long evening stroll and headed straight to the lower level. It had been a wonderful day of recreation for them both. Most of it was spent riding their horses in a great circumnavigation of the beaches and coastal roads of Porto Santo. They had dinner at Megan's home at 5 PM and then left again just at the sun was setting at six. A full moon rose in the east a half hour later and provided ample light for their long walk. They started off by holding hands and soon switched to holding hips. The numerous houses along the roads appeared dark and vacant, but they both knew how deceiving appearances could be. The world was quiet and peaceful, filled only with the sounds of the night wildlife and the farm animals. "Such a beautiful night," commented Alvaro in Portuguese as they walked. "I like it even better with a new moon," replied Megan with fluent Portuguese and a cheerful laugh. "The stars are stunning then... Hah!" "What?" "I was just thinking about something my parents told me long ago. It seemed so romantic this evening when we had dinner by electric lights. We save the candles for emergencies. But my mom once told me that when she was a teenager, candlelight was considered romantic, much more so than electric lights. Imagine!" Alvaro smiled. "Do you think of home often?" Megan paused. "The people sometime. Our web connections are down so often now, not to Madeira but to the rest of the world. I sometimes wonder if my old friends are okay, and I haven't been able to reach my parents since Christmas." Alvaro nodded and sighed. "It's not us. The worldwide web is failing." "Yes, I know. Everything is under the knife and the explosive. But not here!" She gestured at the nearby farm houses with her free arm. "Here is an oasis of peace! I bet you every one of those doors is not even locked." Alvaro laughed. "Ha! I grew up here, remember? No bet!" "Is it the same on Madeira?" "Almost. Not quite but almost. There's actually a jailhouse in Funchal." "No! Really?" "Uh huh. A 120,000 people Megan. They can't all be sociable." "No, I suppose not." There's one here at Porto Santo too." "A jail?! Oh nuts, really? Are you serious? Where?" "By the docks. Well, it's not really a jail, but you can lock people up there, a holding pen. Criminals would be transferred to the main island." Megan paused for a moment and then laughed. "How I've changed! A year ago I would have thought it impossible to live in a society without locks and fences and jails. Now I'm having a hard time with the reverse." Alvaro smiled and squeezed her hip and switched from Portuguese to French. "Viva la difference!" "Oh, indeed!" she laughed as she returned his squeeze and leaned to give him a quick kiss. "It almost feels as if I must think this way while I think and speak in Portuguese, and to think of locks and jails, I'd have to go back to thinking in English." "The solution is obvious. Continue thinking and speaking in Portuguese." She laughed again. "Sounds like a plan." The two lovers continued their long stroll. They returned to Megan's house after a delightful three-hour walk. They retired to the lower level, and by the light of a five-Watt nightlight, Alvaro inspected the shutters on the small high windows that were just above ground level. Satisfied everything was secure, he gave Megan the okay to turn on an array of recessed high-efficiency light-emitting diodes. The array lit the room to a level that would be a little dim for reading but otherwise was perfectly adequate. Megan took her hot shower first. After she dried herself, she let the towel fall and looked at herself in the mirror, eyeing her B-cup breasts with a critical eye. "Not bad," she thought. "A typical Celtic lass. More than a hint of red in my hair, green eyes... and my body? It's certainly pleasing to Alvaro. He loves the curve of my hips." She raised her arms straight out and studied her image. She never had much vanity, felt herself blessed with a fine body and as attractive as a typical woman, but nothing out of the ordinary. She knew that was not how Alvaro thought of her. She could see it his eyes and deportment, how he admired other attractive women compared to how he admired her. His expressions revealed the core of his desires and hopes, and the fact that he considered Megan to be the most stunningly beautiful creature that could ever possibly exist. He had often said so too, and with complete sincerity. Megan smiled and lowered her arms. She was pleased with how she looked now too. The intense amount of exercise and excellent diet had done wonders. She allowed herself an idly fancy of one day magically going back to Ft. Hood, Texas again. She thought she might now be considered a bonnie lass at the base. But no matter. Her true love was here. All thoughts of other men were folly, and she pushed them from her mind. After slipping on her sleep clothes, she left the bathroom and found Alvaro working with her computer, checking his e-mail though the undersea cable. Seeing the bathroom free, he switched places and showered while Megan prepared their beds. Ten minutes later Alvaro came out of the bathroom dressed in pajamas and drying his hair. He smiled at Megan's setup. It was the same as last month. The large bed in her bedroom was turned down and all prepared for sleep, and her bedroom door was open. The fresh linen for the foldout sofa was still in the closet, and Alvaro would have to make up the sofa bed himself. The offer was obvious. Megan was hinting there was no need for Alvaro to sleep in the living room. Alvaro gave Megan a shy smile and sat down beside her on the sofa. They were cuddling a moment later, the soft fabric of their pajamas the only thing separating them. "Have a busy day yesterday?" Megan asked. By tradition, they did not discuss work outside her house during their weekend holidays. Their rides and walks were purely for recreation and intimacy. "A bit. I might have to be away the end of next month." "Yikes! Really?" Alvaro nodded. "Another trade mission to the U.S." "Back to Texas?" Megan's eyes sparkled with interest. "No, the East Coast, Virginia. And Discovery will be gone too. It will be docking at Brazil and Mexico. But we could move our next holiday up or back a week. I could catch a ride here on a fishing boat." "I guess that'll be okay." She gave him what she hoped sounded like a sexy growl and whispered, "If you have a choice, make it a week sooner!" He laughed. "Okay!" They kissed for a while. "How about you? Interesting Friday?" She shrugged. "My morning was completely dull. Some dogs for wellness checkups and vaccines. There was a young gentle pooch with the ridiculous name of Bone Cruncher. Oh yes, the highlight of the morning, one duck with an injured wing." She paused for a kiss. "The afternoon was much more interesting! I brought in a goat to the kindergarten class and talked about how to keep the animal healthy. What a joy to work with children Alvaro! Nine girls and eight boys, they're so beautiful!" "You can leave your clinic unattended?" "Sure. I had nothing scheduled. And if there were an emergency, the clinic is only a few hundred meters away from the school. My two teenage assistants would call me. They usually spend their afternoons studying upstairs in the clinic library." Megan paused and then laughed. "At least that's what they say they're doing. Carlito and Luzia have started dating each other." "Uh oh!" laughed Alvaro. "Do you think you should leave them alone like that?" "Oh, they're responsible. They won't go too far. They both asked me to trust them, and I do." "Hmmm," Alvaro muttered as he started nibbling her neck. "Trust is a beautiful thing. Your neck looks very trusting..." Megan's mind was still on her work. "How Madeira still manages to get dog vaccines these days is completely beyond me." She paused again and gave a soft gasp at a particularly intimate caress. Alvaro's hand was stroking the underside of her breast, almost cupping her, and his mouth had moved to lick the soft center of her throat. It was trust, and she tilted her head back to expose herself fully. His tongue caressed her vulnerable throat while his hand slid to caress her other breast. Soft strokes at first, and then a firm squeeze. Megan could feel her nipples getting hard. "Hmm, that feels nice... Thinking frisky thoughts?" She wiggled her body playfully, and let the back of her hand slide along his hip and then teasingly across his groin. Through the soft cotton of his pajamas, Megan felt a very stiff erection. He grinned. "A lot of flashing images, you, me... I guess I was also thinking about two teenagers alone together in a library!" He licked Megan's neck to her ear, his open hand cupping her now from underneath, supporting and fondling the weight of her breast. "I know Luzia's parents, and Luzia too. I went to preschool with her older brother, back in the 2020's. You're right, she is responsible, and worthy of trust. But physically she's the kind of girl boys dream about..." Megan wiggled and then sighed as Alvaro's fingers at last found her nipple. "I know. But Alvaro, they're both eighteen. They have the right to be together without chaperons." Megan turned to kiss her lover, and for a long while no words were spoken. Their caresses were intimate and loving but not demanding. Eventually they got into a position where Megan was giving Alvaro a backrub. Megan was kneeling on the floor and Alvaro was lying prone on the sofa, looking so relaxed Megan thought he might fall asleep. She definitely didn't want that. She pulled down the bottom of Alvaro's pajamas a bit with one hand and lowered her head and started licking his tailbone. Her other hand was still massaging the small of his back. Alvaro had done the same thing to her their last night together five weeks ago, and she had found the experience both heavenly and sexually arousing in the extreme. Her mind flashed back to the experience. She had been panting. Alvaro's breath had felt hot and ragged between his licks, and in the dim light she had seen his male eagerness for her making a big tent in the front of his pajama bottoms. Megan had lain still and submissive, hoping her lover would remove her pajama bottoms completely and mount her, either in her bedroom or right here on the sofa, she wouldn't have cared which. But her exposed tailbone was as far as Alvaro ventured that night. What had stopped him? Megan didn't think it was sexual morality, not any more. In their hearts, they had both accepted each other as life mates, husband and wife. Megan was sure of it. So what was stopping Alvaro from mounting her? What was stopping Alvaro from asking her to marry him? Megan suddenly realized it must be something fundamental, perhaps some deep issue of honor or loyalty. Could it be his job? "It's time," Megan thought. "It's time to get some answers. But how to do it?" The solution came to her almost immediately. Their bonds of trust and love for each other were infinitely strong. There was no risk. She should simply complain and ask. But first, having him lying and submissive like this was just too good an opportunity to pass up. Holding him down with one hand on the small of his back and with her tongue still on his exposed coccyx, her other hand began to caress his thighs. She gradually made her caress more intimate, and was soon lightly stroking the back of his sac through his pajamas with her fingertips. Alvaro was breathing deeply and sighing, his body turning to butter beneath her hands and lips. She turned her hand and pushed down with her fingers, diving underneath the testes and then lifting up, cupping his sac through his pajamas as he had cupped her breasts through her nightshirt. Megan pushed up with her third and fourth fingers, separating the testes and letting them fall to either side of her two middle fingers. Then she used her thumb to massage and probe the exposed orbs, rolling first one, then the other. Alvaro whimpered in his pleasure. A flashback came to Megan. Early in the week, she had been on a farm and had witnessed two pigs mating. Megan was amazed with the depth and complexity of the courtship. The sow at first was more interested in sex than the boar. She walked around nudging him, and even playfully mounted his back and then his head. The boar finally took the hint and became amorous. The sow grunted happily when she was mounted, and their love making was quite tender. Not the copulation itself. The boar's penis was very eager and energetic as it drilled the sow, and the boar would thrust frantically to recouple whenever his penis slipped out of the sow's vagina. He drilled her hard and deep. But otherwise the mounting was very tender. The boar nestled his head into the coarse hairs on the back of the sow's neck, and his expressions of affection for the sow beneath him were unmistakable. After their long intercourse, they both curled up with each other for a nap. Megan sighed as the memory faded. She still had Alvaro's sac in her hand and he was perfectly still. Caressing his testes was by far the most explicit she had ever gotten with him in expressing her desire for coitus. And yet he was still holding back. It was time to talk. She gave one last kiss to his coccyx and changed positions, releasing his sac and pulling his pajama bottoms back up. Megan then knelt on the floor close to his head. She began massaging his upper back and shoulders while kissing the back of his neck. Alvaro grunted in deep appreciation. With his eyes still closed, he murmured, "I love you." "And I love you, now and forever." Megan decided she needed to wake him up a bit before saying anything heavy, so she said in a very conversational tone, "New York was available on the web yesterday. I downloaded something interesting from the U.N." Alvaro sighed and opened his eyes and gave her a peaceful smile. "Oh?" "Uh huh. The U.N. Population Commission released its yearend report for 2047." "Ah. I didn't see that. How do things look?" "Well, the population is about what we expected, maybe a little worse. Total world population at the end of 2047 was estimated to be 2.4 billion, just about was it was a hundred years ago." Alvaro sighed. "A few years after the end of World War II." "Yes. But the real news was the birthrates. They've collapsed! The current rate is estimated to be 0.19 children born per woman's lifetime." Alvaro's eyes went wide. "My gosh. I can remember hearing the 2040 numbers when it first dipped below the 2.05 breakeven. I was still at Princeton. It's dropped an order of magnitude in just seven years." "Yes. I wasn't too surprised with the new figures though. Back at Ft. Hood, none of the women I knew wanted to have children anymore. The world was just too depressing, and the terrorists were intentionally targeting the children. The grief was unbearable." Alvaro sighed. "Any good news in the report?" "Well, maybe one bright spot. With all the attacks on the world's power grids, global CO2 remained constant last year, 460 ppm." Megan sighed. "Still way too high, but at least not going up." Alvaro grunted. "The extremists actually did some good. They must be very disappointed." "Yeah. Anyway, human production of carbon dioxide is now estimated to be where it was in the early 1920's, mostly from coal burning." "But Megan, the downward spiral of the population, did the U.N. have any thoughts on when it might stabilize and recover?" "It's very unpredictable. We're currently locked into a really nasty feedback loop. It's a completely new social phenomenon. There's no historical precedent. The worst reports are coming out of Asia and the Indian subcontinent. It's an absolute horror. People... Women in particular don't want to produce children in such a cruel and insecure world. And people don't want to make the effort to build anymore when their efforts are constantly being blown up." Megan sighed and continued. "The effect hammers the population from both directions, existing people are getting killed and there are very few replacements. Death by violence far exceeds all other causes combined. I sometimes wonder..." There was a long moment of silence. "Yes?" Alvaro gave her a kind smile. "Wonder what?" "I wonder if this is the effect that kills intelligent life in the universe. The technology advances to the point where small groups within a species have access to tremendous destructive capability. You mix in a religious extremism that justifies the death and misery, and the stage is set for the species to self-destruct." "My God Megan. Let's hope God designed the universe a little better than that." "And how did God design the universe Alvaro? You're probably the best person on the planet I can ask." His eyes popped open. "Huh?!" "I've read your research papers from the late 2030's, and your thesis." "Ah. I wondered when you'd want to talk about that." Megan gasped. "You know?!" "Of course. My works are public, but I also have the right to see who is downloading things I've published." He paused. "I'm sorry Megan. I had forgotten the morality of this is different in the U.S." Megan dismissed his apology as unnecessary with a shake of her head. "You're not angry that I didn't tell you?" She got a look of pure puzzlement at her question. "Oh, never mind. I love you." "And I love you. And I love your gentleness. You never pressure me to talk about things I've sworn not to talk about. I know how this frustrates you. It frustrates me too." He reached up and stroked her soft hair. "You are so beautiful Megan... considerate and gentle and so lovely." She smiled and held his hand and kissed it. "I know you think so. I can see it in your eyes. Alvaro?" Her voice squeaked as she spoke his name. She thought to herself, "It's time! He loves me! Have courage! Trust him!" "Hmm?" "My love, I trust you completely, so much that I feel safe laying a complaint before you, a St. Bridget complaint." Alvaro sighed and looked at her. "I don't know what that means." Megan gave a nervous laugh. "My mother was Welsh. My father was Irish but grew up in Glasgow, Scotland. I never paid much attention to my ethnic backgrounds growing up. But there was one folk story my father told me that stuck in my mind. In the fifth century, St. Bridget complained to St. Patrick about what a woman could do with a man who took too long to propose. St. Patrick replied with a gift, granting one day every four years when a woman could propose marriage." "February 29th," whispered Alvaro. Megan nodded and took a deep breath. "I can't wait another four years. I can't bear to. Alvaro Lopes, will you be my husband? Will you have me as your wife?" Alvaro gasped. He was silent for a moment, and then tears started forming in his eyes. "Alvaro, dearest, what's stopping you?! I can feel your desire and your love for me. It's as fierce as my own!" He nodded and sat up. Megan joined him, sitting at his side. Alvaro reached over and simply held her for a moment and then said, "I've been working on this for months, for permission for you to join the Energy Department." "Huh?" Her nose scrunched, and in both confusion and frustration she hissed, "What?!" "Megan, as my wife, my primary loyalty will transfer to you. I would never hide anything from you. And I've currently sworn to do just that." An epiphany of understanding struck Megan. "And this is the only thing that's stopping you?!" Alvaro rested his head against hers and nodded. "Congress is horrified with the idea of a multi-national knowing our source of energy." "But you're a multi-national!" Alvaro totally ignored her comment. "I've been negotiating for months, reluctant to issue an ultimatum." He grimaced, and then Megan saw his frustration transform into an emotion she had never seen him express. "Oh Alvaro, please don't be angry." He stared at her. "Such a gift you have sweet Megan. You read and understand emotions so easily! In all sincerity, I am in awe of your ability." He took a deep breath and stood up and began to pace. Megan followed him and stood up. "Well..." "It's true. I even see it when you interact with animals! You have such an empathic rapport with your horse! Feathers knows what you want from her with no visible guidance. You and she would be world-class at dressage." Megan smiled. "Thank you." She tried to interject a bit of humor. "If the world ever starts up the competitions again, maybe we'll try out." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. Alvaro kissed her back. Megan took a deep breath and sighed. "Perhaps you're right. I've always found it easy to empathize with animals... and with people. Alvaro?" "Yes?" "Have you ever lied to me?" His eyes pleaded for mercy. "In the deep sense, yes. Sins of misdirection. I don't think I've ever told you a direct lie, but I know I've misdirected you when you've asked me things. I've said things that were objectively true but only appeared to answer your questions. Megan, forgive me?" "My love, of course." Her heart felt as if it were breaking. "And I give you my word. I will never again ask you to violate your oaths to Madeira." His jaw clenched. "No! This farce and lack of trust must end! No more! I won't stand for it!" It took a few seconds for the implications of Alvaro's anger to sink in. She gasped and cried out, "You mean you'll marry me?!" He hugged her. "Beautiful, precious Megan," he whispered as he held her. He started to cry. "I feel so honored... Yes, my answer is yes. Thank you so much for asking me!" They hugged and kissed fiercely. Megan's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. She tilted back and swooned in Alvaro's arms. She was dimly aware of him bending her slightly, and then his free arm cut off her balance at the back of her knees. An instant later she was being carried to her bedroom by her lover. They were both weeping with joy. ------- Chapter 5: First Union Alvaro laid Megan on the bed and then lay beside her. They wept and caressed each other, their minds overwhelmed with caring love. And then the miracle of sexual desire occurred. The transformation took them both, the caring love evolving and transforming to an erotic love within a few electric seconds. They were both eager and almost desperate to express their new commitments with their bodies. They quickly shed their pajamas. Naked flesh pressed against naked flesh, the need to couple became a physical necessity. Megan wondered dimly in her haste how Alvaro might want to mount her. They wound up in a missionary position. Megan smiled and curled her legs, wrapping them around Alvaro's sides. Then she started to buck upward with her hips and pubis pushing against his groin, rubbing his full erection against her soft inner thighs and vulva. She whimpered in her impatience. Alvaro was gasping and thrusting, his penis butting against Megan's closed labia. In a moment of understanding, she remembered this was Alvaro's first time and he had no experience with how to penetrate her. Megan spat on her hand and wetted herself. Then she spat again and grabbed the velvety head of her lover's erection. She smeared her spit across his penis head, squeezing him. Alvaro gave a tremendous shudder from the pleasure. Megan opened her outer lips with one hand and guided the throbbing erection to her vaginal entrance. Alvaro felt his penis head cup into something warm and moist and infinitely silky. He thrust once hard and was resisted. Megan gave a quick grunt from the impact of his cock on her aroused open labia just below her clit. Alvaro lowered his hips for a better angle and thrust again, catching and sliding up her vaginal tract. He cried out at the sensation. A hot, wet muscle was gripping him fiercely. He pulled back and thrust again deeper. Feeling tight resistance, he pulled back and thrust again as deeply as he could. And then he started to orgasm, one spurt after another of overwhelming pleasure and release, pressing hard against Megan's womb as he inseminated her. Megan's legs were locked around his sides. She continued to buck and thrust her pelvis against him as he came, the heels of her feet pressing against the backs of his thighs and butt and pushing him to remain sheathed inside her. Alvaro gave one last spasm and collapsed, rolling on his side and gasping for air, not so much from the physical exertion as from the emotional whirlwind in his thoughts. As he lay panting, his penis softened and slid from Megan's vagina. Megan turned and faced him, showering his cheek with featherlike kisses. "Megan, I'm sorry," Alvaro muttered in apology. Megan blinked and whispered back, "Alvaro, dearest, what do you mean?" He gasped, "I know women desire a longer coitus." His embarrassment seemed so incomprehensible that Megan lay for a moment totally bewildered. And then she finally realized what he had said. "No Alvaro, no. Believe me, no. In all my life, I've only had sex with two other men. They were both older and much more experienced. I never knew what it was like to make love to a virgin man. But I did dream about it. It was wonderful for me Alvaro. I mean it. Your inexperience is precious to me. To feel your desire for me, your virgin eagerness, to feel you couple to your first woman, I'll remember this night forever." He looked at her closely. He could hear the sincerity in her voice. He nodded and lay by her side. His hand came to her stomach and he started to pet her, stroking down to press on her womb, and then returning to her stomach to begin the stroke again. Megan grunted in satisfaction as his hand finally rested pressing on her uterus. It felt a little bit as if he were still inside her. "Megan," he whispered. "I came inside you. Do you think we might have started something?" "No. I know my body. It's very regular. I should be starting my period Monday or Tuesday." "Ah. That's good." His hand came up from her womb and cupped her breast. Megan grinned. "Well, maybe not too good. We'll both be turning twenty-four this summer. These are my prime years for birthing healthy children." Alvaro shivered and nodded. "Yes... But perhaps a year or two for just the two of us?" Megan nodded back. "Oh yes, I'd like that." She sat up and nestled her head into his groin, slipping his limp penis into her mouth and lapping it with her cheeks and a wet tongue. Alvaro gasped and shuddered. "What are you doing?" The penis popped from her mouth which then formed a playful smile. "Cleaning you. Don't you like it?" Alvaro stared at her and then nodded vigorously. Megan grinned and returned to her suckle. The time passed quietly, the penis became semi-stiff in her mouth. And then she heard Alvaro whisper, "Two other lovers, huh?" She ran her lips up the shaft one last time and turned to face him. There was no disappointment or jealousy in his eyes, only... "Ah, curious are you?" Alvaro gave her a sheepish grin. "A bit. Well, maybe more than a bit." She bent down and gave another soft kiss to his penis head, and then looked back to him. "What would you like to know?" "Well..." Her lover squirmed for a moment. "Megan, even as your future husband, it's not right for me to invade such private matters." "Oh, I don't mind. Ask what you want, and if you get too personal, I'll let you know." Megan gave him an encouraging smile and turned to lie beside him, resting her arm draped across him and petting his chest with her hand. "Okay!" He smiled happily and petted her in silence for a moment. "Your first lover, how old were you? What was he like? How did he persuade you to have sex with him?" Megan leaned over and bit his nipple hard. Alvaro jumped for an instant but otherwise remained unmoving, keeping his body vulnerable to Megan's teeth. As a reward for his trust, she licked and suckled him. She finally broke her suction lock and stared as his nipple in the dim light. Her teeth marks were still visible but as she intended, she had not broken the skin. "Wow Alvaro, you sure do ask personal questions!" "Sorry! Uh, too intimate?" "Very! But I'll still tell you. It was the fall of 2042. I had just started my first-year of grad school at U.C. Davis. I had just turned eighteen. I was working too and feeling overwhelmed with the amount of studying I had to do. I was also in a very insecure position financially, on track for going deeply into debt with my student loans. I felt very exposed. My life was so different in Portland and the University of Washington. I was protected there. But at U.C. Davis I was on my own. And then my supervisor in the store where I worked asked me if I'd like to go out for dinner. He mentioned a really nice restaurant." "Oh hell..." "Yeah, I know. I was so naïve back then Alvaro. Back at Washington U. the morals on this were completely different. I thought it was a date! I had no idea I was semi-pledging to have sex with the man in return." She paused for a moment and then said in a much softer voice, "It was a very nice meal, and then he took me back to his apartment. And then... Well, it wasn't exactly rape. I guess I sort of allowed what happened next." Megan and silent for a long moment and then sobbed once, and then again. The long-buried memories had unexpected power. "Megan, please forgive me. I shouldn't have pried." "No Alvaro, I'm actually glad you asked me. I want to confess a flaw within my character. After having sex with me, he saw the blood on my thighs and the way I was clutching myself. He realized he had broken a virgin, and... and he offered me extra money, in addition to the dinner. I... I was so deeply in need of money... And I took it. See? Not rape. I was a whore that night." Alvaro gave her an angry frown. "Don't ever think that! You were violated and traumatized. Afterwards, in the following days, did you feel ashamed, or did you think that the sex was a good exchange for the money?" Megan shuddered and bit her lip. "I remember. My shame was intense, nightmares... Okay, I get your point. I'm not a whore." She petted him for a while. "My second man..." "Megan?" Alvaro whispered, his eyes openly pleading with her. "No, it's okay Alvaro. I want to tell you. This one you should know about. Mansur was a fellow grad student from Saudi Arabia majoring in business administration. He was older than I was, about ten years my senior. We dated casually for almost a year. And then things got serious. I started wearing headscarves, started to learn his culture. We made love with each other. Mansur was disappointed the night he found out I wasn't a virgin, but afterwards he didn't seem to mind. We started having sex together often. And then..." Alvaro petted her breast and kissed her. "And then?"" Megan sighed. "I couldn't adapt. I didn't mind wearing headscarves in public. I used colorful scarves at first, and then Mansur asked me to wear more traditional ones, black or gray. About a month after that I started wearing abayas, you know, the loose robes that hide everything? And then he asked me to wear the niqab. I had just a slit for my eyes, and I didn't like breathing through a veil. And then it was time for Mansur to return to his country. It was December of 2044. He asked me to marry him. Well, not exactly. He asked me if I wanted him to ask me to marry him. It was a rather strange conversation..." A long moment of silence followed. Alvaro caressed Megan once and waited patiently for her to continue. "We talked for days about Saudi Arabia, what my life would be like. It's gotten a lot more fundamentalist in the last few decades. I wouldn't be allowed to be alone with another man. I would need to wear a full burqa when I was in public. A woman could have acid thrown at her if her eyes are visible in public. I was horrified at the thought of forgetting and losing my vision. And I wouldn't be able to practice my profession. I'd be a housekeeper wife. And I'd have to convert to Islam, become a Muslim. And I... Oh, I just couldn't do it..." "Hell Megan," whispered Alvaro. "No one likes to be controlled or manipulated into becoming someone they don't want to be." "Oh, it wasn't that simple. Mansur wasn't a monster. He was a good man, had a sharp mind and a funny sense of humor. And he did a lot of thoughtful things for me..." "Megan, he tried to manipulate you." Megan frowned. "Somewhat. But it wasn't that black and white. It was a true dating relationship that lasted almost two years. I willingly tried to become what he wanted me to be, and he helped me financially. But our cultures just didn't blend well. And he didn't manipulate me for sex. I think I enjoyed it as much as he did, maybe even more so near the end. And I knew it. Mansur used to call me his nymphomaniac. So who was manipulating whom Alvaro?" "Well..." "My turn! I know that I'm the first girl you've ever fucked..." "Megan please, such language!" He blushed and gave a shy laugh. "... but perhaps I'm not the first girl you've kissed! Tell me Alvaro?" He stared at her in amusement. "About my distinguished career in dating? Well, okay! There really isn't anything here." He collected his thoughts for a moment before starting his story. "By the time I reached puberty and the hormones kicked in, I was a fish out of water with my peers. I started as an undergraduate at Madeira in the fall of 2036. I had barely turned twelve years old and my parents had just died the previous March. Trying to date the young women around me was the last thing on my mind. They were six years or more my senior and the few that I did know well treated me like a younger kid brother. Those were crazy times Megan! Over half our professors were dead from the Satan Bug and there was great uncertainty whether the college would continue." "Yes, of course. The age difference must have been incredible." She petted him with great tenderness and affection. "It must have been very hard for you to socialize, especially at Princeton." "Yes. I wound up being a bit of a loner. The States were sort of okay. Some of the professors there treated me as their child, or maybe I should say their grandchild." He stared at his fiancé for a long while. "Wife to be?" "Yes?" "Even then, back at the end of the 2030's, my ideas for meeting Madeira's energy needs were there. But I couldn't complete the work myself. I needed colleagues on my level. The government of Madeira spent a lot of resources to put me through grad school." "Oh, I think they got their money's worth. Alvaro, it's okay. You don't have to tell me about your work now." He nodded. "Okay. Anyway, I got back to Madeira just before I turned seventeen. I've been working with the Energy Department ever since." "And occasionally kissing a pretty girl?" "Well..." Alvaro blushed deeply. "There was one. The summer of 2044. There was a summer intern at my lab. I was turning twenty. She was about a year older. It was a bit awkward. As the director of the lab, I was three levels above her, but in terms of emotional maturity, she was by far my superior." He was silent for a while and Megan petted him, her fingertips caressing his thighs teasingly close to his penis and sac. She nudged him by running the soft pad of a single fingertip lightly and slowly up the front ridgeline of his shaft. "Don't stop now!" Alvaro shuddered with the pleasure of the slow sexual caress and then continued. "She was interested in me Megan. Her name was Elvira. She is an extremely gracious and beautiful person. I'd like to introduce you to her someday." "Alvaro, the girl! Tell me what happened!" "Oh, she rested her head on my shoulder in an elevator one day. We were alone, and for a few moments very secluded. I was so shocked. I was actually in physical contact with a girl! I pulled away and said something ridiculous." "Something inappropriate? You weren't rude, were you?" "Oh no, nothing like that. Something completely ridiculous, inappropriate only in the sense of being out-of-place for the gesture she had made. I think I complimented her on her test results or something. I was so nervous!" "Oh, I get it. You really were shy, weren't you?" "Extremely." "But eventually you kissed her?" "No. In hindsight, she dropped a few more hints that summer that she was still interested in me, but I was so naïve I didn't see them." Alvaro sighed. "She married two years later. She's expecting now, her first child, I think in another three months. I'm very happy for her. She really is an incredibly beautiful person." He sighed. "And that's it." "That's it?" Megan blinked. "What do you mean, that's it?" "What do you mean, what do I mean? Elvira was the only one. What else can I say?" "What?! Alvaro! I'm the first girl you've ever kissed?!" Alvaro gulped and looked at her sheepishly and nodded. "Saturday night, May 11, 2047, by the door of your quad. I remember... how wonderful your body felt, how soft your lips were. I'll remember the moment forever." "My gosh Alvaro..." Megan looked at him with wide eyes. "I never would have guessed. You weren't shy around me at all! In fact, you were charming! I remember feeling swept off my feet, and I had a very sexy dream about you that night. You were delightful, both in real life and in my dream!" He grinned. "Well, I've been working very hard these last few years, pushing myself to be more sociable. But I think it was mostly you Megan. Your heart was so open and accepting, and you treated me as an equal. You were so beautiful in your dress. My desire for you overwhelmed my shyness." Megan stared at her future husband for a long moment, and then she hugged him and started to cry. They held each other in tender affection for a while, and then the transformation took them again. Alvaro began to explore Megan's body with his eyes, nose, and mouth, and Megan lay obediently still, offering herself for inspection. Alvaro began with her face, tracing the outline of her cheeks and mouth and nose and chin with his fingers. They gazed at each other while he petted her. "Such beautiful eyes you have Megan, pools of liquid green infinitely deep. It's so easy for me to get lost in them..." He slowly covered her entire body with his mouth. Neck, shoulders, long lingering suckles at her breasts and his nose sniffing her nipples. Megan actually felt her fat and aroused nipple get sniffed up into a nostril. She took a sharp breath from the erotic sensation of her sensitive tip being embraced by his nose. Ribs, arms, armpits... He licked deep into her armpits until she giggled uncontrollably and told him it was too ticklish to bear. He nodded and moved down to her feet, kissing and licking her toes, long strokes of his tongue, tasting the bottom of her feet, soft kisses on her ankles and calves. He lifted her legs and kissed the backs of her knees. He laid her legs back down and turned, slowly kissing her up her thighs to her hips. Megan was drifting in an ocean of sensual pleasure, pure and soft. And then Alvaro returned to her knees and began to kiss her up the insides of her thighs. With her lover's head between her legs, Megan began to pant in sexual heat. Alvaro's nose and lips and tongue slowly drifted up to her vulva. She arched her hips and spread her legs wide to give him better access. His tongue began lapping her offered upturned pubis. He would start by running the length of her pink labia with his tongue, diving down into the vagina, then back up and pushing the tip of his tongue underneath her clitoral hood. Megan was gasping and squirming. It felt as if someone were stimulating her labia and thighs with electric current. "Alvaro!" she cried out as her uterus went into a prolonged spasm, "What are you doing?" The exquisite lips and tongue left her labia and she whimpered at the loss. "Cleaning you! Don't you like it?" he asked playfully. Megan cried out in her sexual frustration, "Oh please, don't stop... please..." "Dearest..." Alvaro whispered. He had no idea how closely he had driven his fiancé to orgasm. His lips returned to her sex, seeking her, finding her. Megan felt the tongue slide deep into her vagina, then lapping up and diving under the protective folds above. Alvaro's fingers gripped her pubic fur and he lifted up with a strong pull. Megan felt his hot breath on her clitoris and knew she was completely exposed. And then his lips and then his tongue and then his teeth found her. Megan screamed as her orgasm took her, crying out incoherently as her body vibrated. She twisted her head from side to side, groaning and shuddering, the pleasure seemed beyond her human ability to accept, a white-hot spark of pure pleasure burning in the pit of her legs. And it seemed to last forever... Megan finally drifted away from her cyclone of sexual release. She looked at Alvaro sleepily and muttered, "So you think you're inexperienced, huh?" He smiled and cradled her in his arms. "But a fast learner with the right teacher." "Uh huh..." She grinned and blinked her eyes, trying to stay awake. "I love you." "I know. I love you too." "I know." Megan looked sleepily and the clock and then she collapsed, closing her eyes and letting her body become completely limp. The room was cool, but her body was hot and sweaty, flush in its after-sex. "Hmm," she muttered. "I probably need another shower." "You smell great..." Alvaro kissed her check and sniffed her. He pulled a clean sheet and a blanket over her. "Here, take these covers. You'll want them later." "Oh, I feel okay. I'm probably smelly too... sweaty... Hmm..." "You smell great," he insisted. He bent his head and kissed her breasts and nipples, and then licked her armpit, lapping up a bit of her sweat. "Tasty too, a bit salty." There was absolutely no response, and he realized then she was falling asleep in his arms. He kissed her cheek tenderly. "Megan," he whispered, "my sweet wife, thank you so much for asking me." She nodded and swooned in her sleepiness. "Just a few seconds till midnight. Marry me Alvaro?" "I will." She sighed deeply, rapidly losing all her thoughts. "Marry me Alvaro?" "I will, I promise. My dear sweet wife," he whispered in reply. He petted her until her breathing turned deep and slow. He switched to English and whispered again, not expecting her to hear him in her sleep. "Aye Megan O'Connor, you're a bonnie lass!" The faintest mutter. "Love me Alvaro?" In her sleep, she had followed him into English. "I will!" ------- Chapter 6: Revelations Three months later. Time: Sunday May 31, 2048 8:42 AM It was late springtime in Funchal, and the sun was bright and halfway between the horizon and vertical in a cloudless eastern sky. Megan Lopes had been up since sunrise at 5 AM and had just returned to her apartment after attending a church service with her husband. She locked the door and decided to indulge herself with another shower, in spite of just taking one yesterday evening after returning from her honeymoon. She washed quickly in the delightful hot and clean water. After a full year at her new island home, her mind would still sometimes compare the current luxury with what it was like to take a shower in Texas. But not today. She would start her new job at Madeira tomorrow, and her mind was much more agreeably engaged. After she showered and changed into some loose clothing, she prepared a 10 AM brunch for two and then enjoyed reading a book and sunning herself on the corner balcony. She had fallen in love with Alvaro's three-bedroom condo when she first saw it a year ago, and now she was co-owner. It was spacious and luxurious, very well appointed and perfectly located, adjacent both to Madeira University to the east and the prime downtown commercial district of Funchal to the west. The condominium complex was on oceanfront property, and the views of the Atlantic below, the garden campus to the east, and the mountains to the north were superb. Megan wondered if her fiancé would want to go for a stroll on the oceanfront walkways after brunch. The rest of today was the last big block of free time on their schedules until next weekend. She looked at the clock as she sipped her ice tea. The time was already after 10 AM and it was unusual for Alvaro to be late, even by a few minutes. Megan closed her eyes and thought that her future life now appeared so idyllic, she should start to worry. Real life just doesn't get and stay this good. She had completed her one-year commitment to Porto Santo and had married her true love on May 23rd. Their honeymoon had been be one glorious week of frolic in a secluded mountain cabin. Megan was somewhat surprised on March 1st, the day after Alvaro accepted her proposal, when he suggested they return to being celibate until after the wedding. But now she was so glad he did. The wait seemed very long, and there were times during the engagement Megan felt physically frustrated and impatient for sex with her future husband. But the pent up impatience caused the honeymoon to be intensely erotic, their sex together explosive. She was very glad they had waited. And now they were back at the capital. Megan thought she had a perfect career before her. She would work even-months at Madeira in the farm areas at the foothills of the mountains, and odd-months at her old job at Porto Santo. As much as possible, Alvaro would work in a second office at the Porto Santo energy complex and live with her even during the odd-months. There was a distinctive knock on the door which Megan recognized as Alvaro politely announcing his presence, and then he let himself in. "Hello dearest," he called out. "Having a nice day?" He saw the dining table by the bay windows laid out with a fine assortment of food. "Ah, looks good!" They kissed and sat down and chatted about their friends while they ate. Alvaro had a small envelope in his pocket that he had brought with him, and he laid it on the table by his side as they finished their meal. Megan eyed it with a raised eyebrow. "Is that what I think it is?" Alvaro nodded. "Once I hand it to you, you're legally responsible for its safekeeping. I'm required to review the rules with you." "Okay. I can take it off and place it beside me when I shower or sleep or get sexy with you, but it never leaves my immediate presence. Never. I go swimming, it swims with me. I get married again, it goes under my wedding dress." "Oh, you're in a playful mood this morning! Pray continue." "And if I can't find it, there is a thirty-second rule for searching for it. Then I contact Energy Security immediately, no exceptions. Only afterwards do I continue my search." Her husband nodded. "In all seriousness Megan, don't be ashamed about calling in and finding it three minutes later. I've had it happen to me a few times. Just follow the rules, even if it's your tenth call of the day." He sighed. "It's not that much of a burden in practice. You get used to it after a while." He slid the envelope over to her. "Oh, I don't mind. The policy at Ft. Hood wasn't much different." Megan opened the envelope and took out the security badge and stared at her new photo ID. A large shimmering holographic E had been added, and the entire badge was a medium shade of green. "Well, as Kermit the Frog once said: It's great to be green!" Alvaro looked puzzled. "Kermit the Frog?" "A puppet character from long ago. I saw him as a young child, when there was still public television in the U.S." "Oh." Megan unclipped her current citizen ID with a white background and replaced it with the new badge. "Should I just destroy the old one?" "No. Hand it in to building security downstairs. They're authorized to document receiving and destroying a standard citizen badge." "Okay. And this new one will get me into the green-badge areas?" "Yep. The guards will run your ID through the system the first time through, but once they get to know you, just a personal inspection of your badge and face will do." "Okay." She paused for a moment. "This might actually help me in my job on Porto Santo. There are stables at the Energy Department site. Now I might be able to treat a horse there in an emergency." "I raised that point to the committee handling your case more than six months ago. It did generate some sympathy." "But not enough." "No. I should have issued my ultimatum to Congress last year." "Oh Alvaro, I don't know. Who knows how that might have played out before I had built up my reputation as a useful and loyal citizen? Let's just be thankful I have my green clearance now. Which means," she added with a meaningful smile, "that you can finally tell me about your job!" "Yes. Not here of course. But I thought I might show you my office today." Megan nodded and got up from the table and offered her husband her hand. "Let's go." It was short drive in their hydrogen / electric hybrid car but also a steep one. After driving about thirty minutes on winding roads, they were about nine kilometers from their condo and also 1500 meters higher. They found the research area of Madeira's energy complex deserted, though the greater site was still very well populated by security and operations personnel. Her husband's office in the research building was spacious and secluded, overlooking a small inner courtyard. Megan blinked when she saw the private sleeping area. "I remember something from our Ft. Hood date. I asked you where you lived, and you looked a little pained before you mentioned your condo in Funchal. That was one of your misdirections, wasn't it? This was the place you considered home." Alvaro nodded. "Yes. Thank God the times for lies are over." He walked over to a safe and opened it and pulled from the bottom something that looked like an oversized flashlight. "I've thought a lot about how to explain this to you. I decided to start with a demo." He handed the device to his wife with a playful grin on his face. Megan hefted it. "Looks like a heavy-duty flashlight. Wow, it's very heavy. Four D-cells inside?" Alvaro shook his head no. "This device contains our first two prototypes. Megan, allow me to officially introduce you to Coke and Golem." "Prototype of what?" The continued playful smile from Alvaro was the only answer she got. Megan shrugged. "Okay. So you named the flashlight Coke and Golem?" "Sure. Why not?" "Oh, I don't know ... Cute names I guess. Where did they come from?" "From two prototype computers, way back in the last century. I'll tell you the story sometime." "Yeah, I'd like to hear it." Megan examined the heavy device for a moment. "Can I turn it on?" "Sure. It's a fully functional flashlight." She switched it on and shined a bright beam around the room. It was easily visible, even with the windows and the sunlit courtyard outside. "Wow, a huge amount of light, more than I was expecting." "Tunable up to about 75 Watts from Golem. The reason it's so bright is that we're using high efficiency white diodes. Examine the device more closely." "Okay." A moment passed. "I must admit, it's very heavy. I think I also feel a slight resistance when I try to turn it. Is there a gyroscope in this thing?" "Excellent guess Megan. In reality, there are two high-precision turbines inside, running the length of the cylinder." "Turbines?" Megan frowned. "Husband, that makes no sense. You use a turbine to convert an external source of momentum into rotational energy. But this flashlight is self-contained." She played another moment with the device. "The bottom can be unscrewed. May I?" Her husband nodded. Megan unscrewed a cap and then stared in fascination at the very familiar pattern of round holes. Out the back end of the cylinder was a single, ordinary looking Madeira wall outlet. Megan looked up at Alvaro. "Is this what I think it is?" Another nod. "Yes, the outlet is courtesy of Coke, European and Madeira standard, 230 volts, 50 Hertz, nice sine waves." Megan raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She looked around and saw the room's air conditioner at a window. She paused for a moment to think. The outside temperature was about 24C, about as warm as it ever got here in the mountains. The room felt quite comfortable. There was no need for air conditioning. Still ... She walked over to the unit and considered. The air-conditioner was unplugged, its cord lying tucked invitingly against the wall. It was a large unit and with Madeira's gentle climate easily capable of cooling the large office. Megan knelt and plugged the cord into the cylinder's socket and, hearing no objection from Alvaro, turned the unit on. It started up immediately. Megan held her hand near the vent until she felt a large amount of very cold air blowing into the room. She turned to her husband with a very puzzled look. "I'm assuming this isn't a cheap trick, that there isn't another power source for the AC." "No. I give you my word. Reality here is just as it appears." Megan nodded and laid the heavy device on the floor by the AC. She then stood up. "This is very, very impressive. What's the load on the flashlight?" "You're running the compressor on high. I would guess about five Amps." "And what's the maximum load this wondrous flashlight can handle?" "Thirty-four Amps usable, 7.8 kW. Coke also uses about fifteen milliamps from Golem to start itself." "Start itself?" Megan frowned and stared at the setup for a moment. "I'm flabbergasted, I really am. I know this isn't a SNAP generator. It's cool to the touch, and generating a hundred times the power of what a SNAP this size could do. What kind of batteries can deliver this kind of performance in such a small package?" She looked at the clock in the room. "I should have timed this of course, but I'm guessing at least two minutes. Every additional second makes this more and more impressive." She reached for the flashlight to hold it again. "May I?" "Sure. It's safe." She nodded and picked up the flashlight. It was more difficult now to change its alignment. "Wow. I still hear nothing, but the gyroscope must be really spinning now! And the flashlight is not getting warm at all. In fact, if feels even cooler now than it did before. Yes, definitely, I can feel it pulling the heat right out of my hand. Very strange." Megan blinked. Alvaro's earlier words had finally sunk in. "7.8 kilowatts?! I could run my house on this?!" "That's right. And not a gyroscope Megan, a turbine. It's rated at 2500 RPM, and probably spinning about 350 RPM now." "Yes, you mentioned that. Alvaro, that makes no sense. The flashlight is not coupled to an external source of momentum. Tell me the punch line!" "Punch line?" "How long can these miraculous batteries run the AC?" "There's no time limit. The AC will run for hours, weeks, years. Eventually it will break, but it won't stop from a lack of power." Megan grimaced. She was watching her husband's eyes and saw his complete sincerity. "Oh no..." she whimpered, almost crying. She felt wobbly and placed the device back on the floor. "May I sit down?" "Oh gosh yes! Sorry Megan!" A few seconds later they were sitting on a nearby couch. She felt better after a moment. She shrugged and frowned. "Perpetual motion Alvaro?" "It does give that appearance, doesn't it? But the energy and momentum of the universe are being conserved. The flashlight is running on dark energy." Megan gave a small explosive laugh that sounded like a hiccup. "I know a bit of the concept. I've tried to understand your papers the best I could. That's the cosmological force that's pushing the universe apart." "Pulling the universe apart. Dark energy has a positive energy density but exerts a negative pressure." "What's a negative pressure?" "A pressure that's less than zero, a pressure that pulls things apart and expands them, just as a positive pressure will crush things, cause something to collapse." "Oh ... Okay, makes sense I guess. But isn't dark energy too weak to be measured? In the laboratory I mean." "Normally, yeah. My doctoral thesis implies a way to make a background measurement very accurately. The first time I did that was even earlier, back in the fall of 2037, two years before I went to Princeton. To three significant digits, the cosmic background pressure of dark energy is negative 5.84E-10 Newtons per square meter. When we try to measure more precisely, we see variations, great ripples in the dark energy of the universe." Megan was silent for a moment. "I feel as if I'm standing in a falling elevator, and it's about to fall even faster ... So, about half of a billionth of a Pascal, okay. And except for the ripples it's uniform, right? Pulling out in all directions, right?" "Yes, ordinarily." Megan tried to make a joke. "And what you've done is something out of the ordinary." Alvaro tried to respond in humor. "Excellent Megan! Brilliant! I knew there was some clever reason I married you!" She managed to give him a small smile back. "Uh huh. So tell me, what have you done?" "There's a way to create a lens, a negative energy resonance that has an incredible focusing ability with dark energy. We can focus half a spherical surface of dark pressure down to a very small area at the center of the sphere. It creates an unbalanced pull at the center, a strong one if the sphere is large enough." "And the flashlight is at the center of this resonance?" He nodded in approval. "How big is the sphere?" "Golem's radius is 300 microseconds times the speed of light. The outside lens is created with some very unusual light within the device. The radius of the Golem's sphere is 90 km. We have a 94.4% efficiency in focusing the dark pressure of two opposite hemispheres. The result is a net force of fourteen Newtons for each hemisphere." Alvaro gestured to the device. "Two hemispheres of net force are phased and locked to the opposite blades of a tiny turbine that's vacuum sealed and magnetically suspended inside the cylinder. The power delivered to the turbine is the pulling force of twenty-eight Newtons times the velocity of the turbine blade. That's Golem. Coke has a ten times bigger radius, and hence a hundred times the power." "Alvaro! What you're saying is ridiculous!" "Huh? Why do you say that?" "Well, for the sake of argument, I'll give you the point of focusing a big pulling force. But why isn't the force pulling the shingles off the roof?" Alvaro blinked. "Because that's not where the receptor for the resonance is. It's not like a magnifying glass with sunlight Megan. That's not how dark energy works." Megan struggled for a moment and then took a deep breath. "Okay. I surrender. The AC is still running. I withdraw my objection and I'll try not to make another. Can you tell me, how do you focus dark energy?" "With a packed rainbow inside the flashlight. That's my name for a large scale quantum resonance phenomenon make out of virtual packed light. I take a super-continuum white laser, pack the coherent wave front, and then let the beam chromatically split and resonate and self-organize into a packed rainbow." Megan stared at her husband with blank eyes, showing him he had lost her. Alvaro took a deep breath. "I know these are a lot of unfamiliar concepts, but there's no other way to explain it. In normal light, the density in the wave front goes from zero to some positive maximum in amplitude and energy density." "Uh, okay. You've finally said something I think I understand." "In packed light, the wave front is squeezed. Peak amplitude is increased, but total energy remains the same. The result is small regions of negative energy density in between the peak amplitudes." "Stop! I think I can understand negative pressure, a pull instead of a push. But how can you have a negative energy density?" "Yeah, I know. It's there in the math of the quantum mechanics and the singularity mechanics. I don't see it either, in terms of having a visual model to explain the effect. But it's real. It's there in the math and the phenomenon is real." "But..." "Yes?" "Alvaro, I still don't get it! If you're focusing a force, why doesn't it pull on things besides your turbine blades?" "Because that's not where the resonance receptor is. Megan, you have to give up some very intuitive but wrong models of what force and quanta are. Light is a prime example." Alvaro looked up at the ceiling light and held his hand under its light. Then he held his other hand above the first and caused a shadow. "See this shadow? Right now Madeira Power & Light is pumping energy into the electron distribution in the light bulb filament above me. The shadow on my lower hand gives the appearance that the light is streaming from the bulb and moving through the air and getting blocked by my right hand so it doesn't hit my left." Megan stared at him. "Are you saying that's not what's happening?" "Exactly! Appearances can be very deceiving! What's really happening is that there is a photon-electron interaction, a photonic emission in the bulb, and then a very short time later another photon-electron interaction, a photonic scatter, on the surface of my top hand, and then even later, a third interaction, an absorption of the photon by an electron getting a kick of energy in the retina of my eye. And in between the three interactions, the photon is nowhere at all," "Uh, what?" "With a few hours, I could go downstairs to the dark energy labs and build a Max-Zender interferometer on an optical bench. I could run a simple photonic experiment and prove this to you. Shadows might make it seem that photons move through the air, but you'll never explain how a rainbow works with a model like that. You'll never explain quantum tunneling, never explain quantum entanglement, never explain how a laser works. You'll never explain how a diffraction grating works with a model of light moving from one place to another. Megan, there are just too many real physical phenomena where that model breaks down! Light doesn't move, not in a kinetic sense, it doesn't follow equations of motion. Light follows the principle of least action. In between the interactions, the photons and the dark energy are nowhere at all. That's the way the universe operates. The quantum and singularity physics demand it!" Megan paused for a long moment. "I guess I'm dimly following some of this. It's quantum magic, huh?" He nodded and added, "There's another phenomenon with light called Newton's Rings. It has to do with the partial reflection of light on glass. The reflection disappears if the glass thickness is an integer number of wavelengths of the light, due to quantum destructive interference. The effect drove Sir Isaac crazy, and for good reason. Does the reflection come from the front surface of the glass? No. From the back surface? No. The reflection doesn't really come from anywhere, because the light itself is obeying the principle of least action, not equations of motion. You can never explain Newton Rings with a model of light moving through the air and glass." Alvaro tried to finish up. "Within the resonance I create, in the time interval between the surface and the center of the sphere, the dark energy is nowhere at all. That's the way the photons work, that's the way the dark energy works." "But Alvaro, you can stop light with a barrier! You can block the focus of a lens!" "Well, yeah, sure ... Oh! I see your problem. Matter outside the flashlight is outside the center-point resonance. Dark energy is not a photon or a charged particle. The material between the sphere's surface and center resonance can only interact with the dark energy through gravitational lensing, and the shingles on the roof create an incredibly tiny bending of the space-time continuum. The effect is completely negligible. Really Megan, the shingles are far more likely to interact with neutrinos than out-of-resonance dark energy. In fact, the only material we've found to be an effective resonance receptor is a mesh of carbon nano-tube fibers. The turbine blades are impregnated with them." Megan sighed and nodded. "It's going to take me a while to absorb all this." Alvaro noticed how tired she looked. "No," he thought, "not just tired, disturbed." He said out loud, "Enough for one day then? We can always tour the generators some other time." "Yes, I think so. Let's go home. Want to take a walk along the ocean?" "Sure ... I'd love to." Alvaro got up to unplug the device and put it back in the safe. "Oh, I'll get it." Megan turned off the AC and then unplugged it from its infinite power source. She handed the flashlight back to Alvaro. "Wow. It's cold now. Not freezing but definitely below room temperature." "Yeah. It's a minor attribute of the resonance. There's all this dark energy flowing in. There's also seems to be a small amount of regular energy flowing out against the resonance. It's unexpected, but it seems to help stabilize the dark power flow." Megan responded with a noncommittal grunt. So much information, and it made so little sense. "Unexpected?" she asked. "Well, the theory doesn't predict it, but there seems to be some sort of backscatter..." Alvaro closed the safe and stood up. Megan hugged him. "Alvaro! This is so incredible! You'd get a Nobel Prize if they were still giving them out!" He grinned and gave her a playful kiss. "You're probably right!" She kissed him back. "So we're running Madeira by draining the universe of dark energy, huh?" "Well, I wouldn't use the word draining. That's too strong a word. Remember that power is force times velocity?" "Yeah." "The velocity of the flashlight's turbine blade at full power is less than three meters per second. It would have to be near light speed to actually start draining all the dark energy on its resonance sphere. Imagine draining an energy density of 0.5 nano-Joules per cubic meter at light speed across the surface of a sphere 900 km in radius. The power flow across the surface would be about..." He paused for a moment. "close to two terawatts. And Coke will pull at most 7.8 kW, a tiny amount, a million times less than the natural ripples that are already there." Megan's eyes lit up and she looked both thoughtful and astonished. "Two terawatts?! That's bigger than the world's power grid! Are you saying this one flashlight could run the world?!" "No. That would actually be very dangerous. The flashlight acts as a lens to focus dark pressure." Alvaro took a deep breath. "We started running a process called Project Alchemy back in the summer of 2043 where we collapsed two dark energy bubbles directly into a matter conversion exchange. But even then we kept our impact far below the background fluctuations. In all our systems, we have an absolute upper limit of 0.4 parts per million of how much dark energy we'll take from the background level." Megan took a deep breath. She felt she was barely following the thread of the conversation. "And why is that?" Alvaro was silent for a very long moment, and then looked troubled. "It's difficult to put into words. The singularities in the mathematics become undefined as you drain spacetime of its dark energy. You're creating a ripple in spacetime, something that propagate both inward and outward at light speed. What we're doing is more than three orders of magnitude below the natural fluctuations. That should be fine. And there's no need to do more. Why pull on the fabric of spacetime harder than you have to? If you want more power, just use a bigger sphere." Megan nodded slowly. "So you really could get two terawatts with a big enough sphere?" "Well ... yeah." "Any limits at all on how much power you could ultimately pull?" "Uh, in practice no." Megan smiled. She knew how her husband's mind worked. "And not in practice?" "Well, theoretically we would be limited by gravitational lensing ... eventually." Megan scrunched her nose. "Huh?" "This is all very theoretical. If we pushed the dark energy density high enough, we'd create a Black Hole." "Here in the lab?!" "Megan, this is pure theory. We would have to push the energy density to the equivalent of an entire Earth mass into a resonance chamber a few cubic centimeters in size. The gravitational lensing would destroy the resonance. We're talking a million trillion Earth gravities. Of course we'll never do such a thing!" "What?!" Megan shuddered at the concept of her body flattened to nucleon thickness. In a hoarse whisper she asked, "You're capable of doing that?" Alvaro just shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think so ... And we certainly never would. It would destroy the Earth, maybe the entire solar system." They were all set to leave. Megan shook her head and held his hand. "I think I need some time to digest this. Come on! A nice walk by the ocean!" They were very quiet as they returned to Funchal. ------- Chapter 7: Newlyweds Six weeks later at Megan & Alvaro's home at Porto Santo Time: Friday, July 10, 2048 7:16 PM Following the farming tradition of the island, their guests said their goodbyes shortly past 7 PM, just as the sun was setting. It had been an uncomfortably hot day, a record setter. Porto Santo had reached 36C in the early afternoon, and the capital Funchal was even worse. Hemmed in by steep cliffs on three sides except for the southern exposure to the sun, the air was trapped and stagnant and heated to an unbearable record-tying 41C. After their guests left, Megan and Alvaro spent the next two hours chatting while they cleaned up from the party and finally took a cool shower together. Alvaro stood behind Megan and laughed as he washed her and asked if she were in the mood to continue the celebration. His hands were roaming all over her body, paying particular attention to her feminine shape, rubbing her cool soapy breasts and pubic fur. Alvaro's half-erect penis was nosing its way down between her wet thighs, his sac high and tight against his groin from the cold water. Megan turned and flashed him a very inviting smile in reply. She gripped his penis with a clean wet hand and fast jerked him hard, up and down along his shaft. She then re-gripped with her other hand and gave him a very soapy squeeze. Her fingers were pressing against the major vein along the back ridgeline of his stiff cock and she could feel his pulse as he panted. They retired to their bedroom as soon as they dried themselves with towels. Megan lay on her side and Alvaro curled up behind her. They were both panting in their sexual heat for each other and quickly moved through some brief foreplay. With his hands wrapped around her and milking her breasts, Alvaro's penis was jabbing and sliding against soft feminine thighs, vulva, and rump. He lubricated his cock with the slick moisture running from Megan's aroused labia. Megan shuddered and arched her hips and lifted her top leg high, curling her leg and toes and exposing herself and whimpering for Alvaro to hurry. Alvaro pulled back and then thrust hard with his major hip muscles. His slick penis head nailed Megan directly on her anus. Megan yelped in surprise at the explosive burst of pressure on her sphincter. Alvaro had almost driven himself high up into her bowels. "Sorry," he whispered as he panted. His hand was tenderly caressing her hip, the nose of his cock resting meekly against the outer folds of her labia. "That's okay," Megan whispered with a ragged breath. "I'm so hot. Just fuck me, fast and hard!" She reached down and guided the pole between her legs into her womanhood, feeling it cup and then firmly catch the vaginal entrance. Alvaro felt the familiar exquisite embrace of her vagina on his glans, and he humped up into her in short eager strokes. Megan growled her approval, and then lost herself in sexual bliss as Alvaro gave her the type of sex she wanted. The thrusting was hard and furious. Time lost all meaning, and Megan rode her waves of pleasure higher and higher until everything came crashing down in a great shuddering climax, Megan jerking and twisting her body but unable to escape the male intrusion deep inside her and not really wanting to. She lay still and submissive, accepting the swift penetrations as her mind slowly returned to reality. Megan realized she was grunting softly in unison with the swift strokes of the cock penetrating her. Alvaro was still drilling her from behind, hard and fast as she had asked. Her left leg was bent and still held high to offer Alvaro full and easy access into her. Megan had had her own orgasm, long and sweet, and now she was drifting, not minding the blows of the penis head against her cervix. In fact it felt very sexy to service her husband's urgent need to thrust and get off inside her, and she purred to him in love. His cock felt long and thin, just the way it always did when Alvaro was sliding down his final chute to orgasm. She was sure of it. His climax was almost upon him. Megan gasped as Alvaro changed tempo. Instead of the quick sliding pounds, he pressed deep and began a slow rocking motion. Megan felt her rump swaying back and forth, her lover's hips locked to hers, her vagina stretched and slowly stroking the skin on his stiff shaft up and down. Then the arm across her pelvis gripped her fiercely, trapping and locking her for insemination. Megan bore down and squeezed her vagina as tightly as she could, giving her lover the added pleasure of forcing his ejaculation into a tight female. Alvaro grunted and pressed hard, drilling against the far back wall of her vagina and then splashing the bottom of his wife's uterus with his seed. Megan cried out as a ripple of ecstasy took her. They were married now for almost two months, but it still took her by surprise how intensely pleasurable it felt whenever Alvaro erupted inside her. His hand was petting the damp fur of her pubis. The stiff pole within her was still pushing against her uterus, but not as hard and Megan could feel it was just starting to soften. She could also feel a generous deposit of warm semen making her feel squishy inside. She growled in happiness, placing her hand over his and pushing his palm firmly against her womb. Alvaro caressed his sweaty wife, panting and slowly winding down in the sticky darkness. "Pretty hot in here. There's no breeze from the window at all." Megan giggled. "You think this is bad? You should spend a summer in Texas. It can be much more brutal than this, hotter and even more humid, for two, three months in a row." "Yikes... I've spent some time on the African mainland. I know what high heat is. But at least there it's dry." The sounds of some disturbed songbirds drifted in through the open window. Alvaro sighed. "Sounds as if the neighbor's cat is hunting canaries again." Megan sighed too, and then reached down and pressed Alvaro's hand firmly against her womb. "Dearest, you want to start doing this without me on birth control, just let me know." Alvaro kissed and licked the back of her sweaty neck. "I might be persuadable. Seriously? You mean soon?" Megan sighed and nodded. "Yes, soon. I know we've talked about waiting a year or two, but when I feel you unload in me like this, a part of me is crying that I'm not fertile." Alvaro rested the side of his head against hers and nodded. "I know. It's the same for me. To come inside you to..." "... to breed me?" Megan asked. Alvaro shuddered and whispered, "It would be incredible." He rocked his hips and gave her slow deep strokes and then added suddenly, "Uh, this is incredible too of course!" He kissed her sweaty neck again and closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh. "Hah! And which do you like better Alvaro, front or rear?" "Hmm?" "Do you like missionary better, or do you prefer mounting me like this, humping up against my rump?" A yawn. "Oh, I don't know. Both are wonderful. How about you Megan? Does the birthday girl have a preference?" Megan giggled. "I love all the ways you mount me, and all the ways I mount you... There was a moment though, when you were searching for me earlier... You were so eager for me! Your cock gave my anus a very energetic poke." A pause. "I remember. I knew I was in the wrong place. I didn't hurt you, did I?" "Oh no, not at all. It actually felt kind of sexy, in a different sort of way. Alvaro?" Another yawn. "Hmm?" "Earlier this evening, at my party, I was talking to a friend..." Another yawn. "Hmm? I think I saw you two talking. You mean Janinha?" "Uh, I'd rather not mention a name. We were talking about our sex lives, just a bit..." "Oh?" Alvaro's eyes blinked open and he gave a gentle laugh and another thrust up into his delightful wife. "I think I might have been drifting off to sleep, but you certainly have my attention now!" "Yes, well... My friend was confiding in me. She and her husband have a very active sex life. I wasn't pressing for physical details, not at all. She mentioned he likes to anal mount her..." Alvaro was very quiet for a moment. "I know Janinha's husband well. I see him as a kind and gentle guy. He's not hurting her, is he?" "Oh no. I..." There was a pause. "Uh, I'd rather not confirm this is Janinha I'm talking about." "Oh. Okay. Is your friend being hurt?" "No. At least I don't think so. She didn't talk about what it felt like physically. Alvaro?" "Yeah?" "You don't describe our sex life with your friends, do you? The physical stuff I mean." "No, of course not. Seriously Megan, I'd be violating your trust. I'll never do that." "I wouldn't mind if it was outside the physical stuff. Everybody needs reality checks now and then, especially with their emotions. That's what friends are for." Alvaro petted her hip. "You're very sweet. But I haven't talked to anyone about anything, not with this." His hand stroked the top of her hip in love, and then another thrust of his softening cock along her vaginal tract. He returned to kissing her neck. Megan sighed happily and wiggled her rump back into his groin. "I'm amazed you're maintaining such a nice erection. It's been a while since you creamed me. Usually I'm cleaning you by now." Another wiggle down, which was followed by his semi-stiff cock thrusting up. Megan grunted and added, "But you still seem eager to remain where you are!" Alvaro laughed quietly. "Maybe it's the thought of your friend getting nailed in her rump." "Yes, perhaps. Alvaro, does it excite you, to think of another man anal mounting a woman?" "Well..." "Do you want to anal mount me? Be completely honest. I want to know your desires." "Oh, I don't know..." "Don't be embarrassed. I'm curious. Do you want to try it?" "Hmmm..." Alvaro shifted as he petted her. Megan felt a gentle finger wiggling down into the crack of her ass, just above where the penis was coupling to her vagina. She reached back with her hand and arched her hip, lifting her upper butt cheek to expose herself. The finger found her and began caressing her anus. It left for a moment and ran across her sweaty buttocks, and then returned very wet. More gentle caresses, then more moisture from Alvaro's spit. The stimulation felt very slick and sexy. The anal lubrication and soft pressure continued until Megan thought she could feel herself dilating. And then the finger began to tease her, almost pushing into her soft anal opening and then backing off. She pushed back with her rump just as the finger started to leave, and was rewarded by it sliding up inside her in one slick penetration. She shuddered and cried out a small gasp of pleasure. "Wow! Very smooth! Are you sure this the first time you've done this with a girl Alvaro?" He laughed. "Need you ask?!" And then, more seriously, "Is this okay?" "Oh yeah, nice job! I didn't expect it to feel this silky. I was thinking it would be more like a clinical exam. This is much nicer! Sexy!" She paused. "Tell me the truth Alvaro. Do you want to try this with your penis?" Alvaro gave a small gasp. "Do you mean in the future or right now?" "I'm not sure, either way I guess... Do you dream about it, nailing me in my rump?" Alvaro groaned. His finger curled inside her, hooking and caressing her rectal wall. "Megan, first of all, I really don't want to hurt you. Dream about anal sex? Oh, maybe. It's such an act of complete domination..." "Yes?" She pushed her rump down on his hand, encouraging him to explore more deeply. "I guess it's an idle fantasy. I enjoy licking your anus a lot, and having you lick mine. Sometimes, when I'm licking you... It's so sexy to have you so submissive. I have your ass cheeks gripped and separated and your cute rear hole seems so available. It almost seems you're offering yourself to me." "I am offering you my anus, offering it to be licked. I don't know about your cock though. Your finger feels heavenly now, but I don't think your cock would fit." "I don't think so either. Sweet Megan, I am content." Megan nodded and yawned. "Still, if the thought excites you..." Alvaro curled his finger and rotated it firmly across the length of her rectal wall. "Do you want me to try?" Megan gasped. The finger curl had felt like an unexpected spark of hot sexual passion erupting directly in her bowels. "I'd want you to talk to me about it. Maybe we could play with the idea. As long as it doesn't hurt, I won't mind." She felt him shudder behind her. "To get pleasure from another's pain, I can't think of a more universal sin. Megan, I could never enjoy forcing myself on you, your bowels or anywhere else." "I know. Talking with my friend though, I don't think pain was the issue." "Ah..." He wiggled in deeper, as far as he could go. He opened his mouth and gently bit down on the back of Megan's neck, locking his female into submission and keeping her in her exposed position. Megan felt his fingertip caressing her deep within, tracing the connection where her rectum joined with her large intestine. Megan sighed and relaxed, opening her body to the pleasure her lover was offering. The gentle teeth left her neck. Her husband whispered, "Megan, your friend... What was the issue?" "Huh? Oh yeah..." Megan sighed. "Her upbringing. She grew up thinking anal sex was filthy and perverted." "Ah. What did you tell her?" "My beliefs. I think if a sex act is based in love and playfulness, the concept of filth never applies, not in the mental sense. I mean, if we started playing with each other's shit, things could get extremely filthy physically, but mentally? There would be no debasement. It would just be you and I getting a bit kinky, that's all." Her husband stirred, and Megan felt the broad surface of his buried finger rotating and again caressing her rectal walls. She sighed in pleasure. "Don't get me wrong. I don't think I'd enjoy playing with shit. But what you're doing now feels so sexy... You don't mind? I know I'm not clean down there. I think I can feel your finger sliding in my..." "I don't mind. It feels so intimate... to be inside you like this." Megan nodded and purred in her drowsiness. "I had no idea... how silky this would feel... No idea... Oh... Hmmm..." Her husband thrust his almost limp penis inside her vagina, kissing and licking the back of her neck while his single finger slowly wiggled inside her rectum. Megan remained very still to show her complete submission. With his finger still buried in her rump, Alvaro began caressing her breast with his other hand. "Is your friend okay then?" Megan nodded sleepily. "Yes. She seemed reassured..." "That's good. She and I are old friends. I sat next to her in my second year of primary school. It seems like so long ago..." "Hmmm..." They both sighed and were quiet. The soft sounds of the hot summer night drifted in through the open windows. In the stillness of the late darkness, Megan stirred slightly, and a soft penis and a slimy finger popped unnoticed from her body. She and her lover were fast asleep. ------- Chapter 8: Second Revelations Early next morning. Time: Saturday, July 11, 2048 6:05 AM Alvaro and Megan rode up the central power station of Porto Santo an hour after sunrise, in time to wave greetings with the departing shift. It was the first time Megan had been to this green-badge area, and the guards spent several minutes meticulously verifying her ID. This was the day Alvaro and she had reserved to talk about his work, and her mind was full of questions. Megan had been thinking about what Alvaro had revealed to her for the last six weeks. She had found it frustrating at first when he absolutely refused to talk about anything work related while they were at home, even in the privacy of their bedroom. But on this point his mind was absolute, that green-badge discussions should occur only in green-badge areas. Megan gritted her teeth for a while, but then finally accepted the standard as appropriate and even apologized. She told him she never had a high-level security clearance before, and it just took some time to develop the correct mindset. After going through several control gates guarded by armed men and women, Alvaro led Megan into the inner core of Porto Santo's source of energy. It was a small, delightfully cool cubical room, deep underground and very well lit and ventilated. It was almost vacant except for what Alvaro said were two dark energy generators at opposite ends of the room. They were a lot smaller than Megan had imagined. She had seen cows that were bigger. The most amazing thing around the room was the almost complete silence. Most if not all of the soft white noise appeared to be coming from the ventilation system that was providing an ample amount of fresh air. Megan pointed this out to Alvaro. "Yeah. The surfaces of the generators run about 10C below whatever the temperature of the surrounding air. We could use heaters, but decided just to keep the room well ventilated." "What would happen if it did get very cold, if the ventilation stopped?" "Huh? I don't know. These deep rocks are very good insulation." He raised his eyebrows playfully. "Maybe the air would liquefy." "Yikes! That cold, really?!" Alvaro just shrugged. "No, I think I was just joking. But caloric experiments are surprising difficult to predict. I don't know what the equilibrium temperature would be." He paused for a second and then continued. "We left this open space in the middle for repair work, or to be able to remove one generator and still keep the other running." "Okay. And they're identical generators?" "No. That would put the surfaces of their resonance spheres in the same location. The surfaces should absolutely not intersect with each other. The one on the left is G1, the slightly less powerful brother of G2. Their radii are 31 and 32 light-milliseconds, generating 75 and 80 MW electric." "So, 155 megawatts of base power, wind or no wind. I knew you couldn't run the desalination plant with just the wind turbines. I knew it! Enough power to run all of Madeira!" Alvaro nodded. "And for several years, we did just that, ran the entire country from these two small generators. After the flashlight, these and a prototype that is not currently in use were the first dark energy generators we built. These two were put into service the summer of 2042 and have been running flawlessly ever since, first on Madeira and now here at Porto Santo. We run these generators flat out." "And what do you do with the excess power? Transfer it to Madeira?" "No. There is a high voltage line linking the two islands, but it's only there as a backup for emergencies. There's a high capacity desalination plant at Ilhen na Cahleta. We use a process called multi-stage flash distillation. One megawatt will produce 100,000 liters of potable water per day, 100 MW is enough to add 1 cm of water over one sq km of farmland per day. We also disassociate hydrogen for the fuel cells. That's where most of the power goes." "What's the island's power grid like?" "A few key connections at high voltage. Otherwise Porto Santo is so small, it's a very simple system. The 3.6 MW of power coming off the wind turbines is at 50 Hertz and 690 volts, and that what we use for our primary feeder system. We use simple three-to-one step-down transformers for the 230 volt household current." "And the cable to the main island?" "The key connections are at 110 kilovolts. It's a European standard. The lines are rated at 1.5 kilo amps." "AC?" "Oh of course. You need to use high voltage to cut down on the transmission power loss. But there are also power losses reducing high voltage DC to low voltage DC. Simple transformers can do the job efficiently with AC. The 110 kV lines run at 16.67 Hertz." Megan nodded, satisfied and happy there was something about this unbelievable system she could actually understand. "It's so incredibly quiet in here." "Well, the turbines are spinning isolated in a vacuum, converting their rotational energy into AC through direct magnetic induction. There's really nothing in the system that makes any noise." "So amazing." She smiled. "So, what now?" "Well, I could show you the control room upstairs that monitors the turbines. After that, why don't I show you my office and I'll answer any questions you might have." "Okay. Alvaro? I've been wondering how to do this. Could you just give me a layman's history of all this? When did you first get the idea of using dark energy like this? What was it like developing your program? Maybe a little light on the physics, a little heavy on the politics and practical impacts. And what are your future plans? Where is all this heading?" "Yes. Those are all excellent questions. Okay." They shared a brief kiss, and then headed up the stairwell to the control room. Twenty minutes later... Megan smiled and spread her arms as she entered Alvaro's Porto Santo office. "Nice! Central AC, huh?" "Well, it's not the only building. The school and hospital have AC, and your clinic too. And almost all the buildings at Funchal have AC, public and private." "Oh, I'm not complaining. This feels great!" They walked to some nearby chairs. Megan looked around. This was the first time she had been in her husband's Porto Santo office. "So how's it working out? Do you miss your labs on Madeira?" He smiled. "Actually, I love this new setup. Back at Madeira, I wind up spending all my time working on the latest experiment. I've been neglecting the theoretical work. Here I've got my own small computers and lots of free time to think about problems that have been on the back burner for too long. It's a perfect setup!" Megan settled down in a comfortable chair and nodded in encouragement. "So, the history of dark energy, and heavy on the politics." "Right. Where to begin?" Alvaro walked to the window and stared out for a moment at the morning sun shining on the farmlands below. He sighed and came to his wife, sitting down beside her in a second chair. "I think to understand the politics behind all this, we should go back a dozen years, back to February of 2036." "The Satan Bug?" "Uh huh. The population of Madeira was completely different then Megan. It's difficult now to remember how crowded everything was, even here at Porto Santo, and it wasn't just the numbers. It was demographics. The impact of the endophage was tremendous. The A-strain of the Bug was almost universally fatal to elderly people. I remember the numbers. Before the plague at the end of February, our profile of 262,000 was 17% children, 49% working adults, and 34% retired. By the end of March, the 106,000 survivors had a profile of 41% children, 57% working adults, and 2% retired." He paused for a moment and then continued. "I'll give them credit. Almost all the retired survivors reentered the work force, all who were able. Mortality for people over eighty was 99%. We went from almost thirty thousand to under three hundred in one month..." Alvaro sighed deeply and closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and appearing to be asleep. Megan did not want to rush him. She waited patiently, her thoughts returning to her own memories of the terrible year of the Satan Bug. The first reports began to make the news in mid February of 2036. There seemed to be some new form of influenza breaking out in Tel Aviv. The contagiousness of the disease was unlike anything ever recorded. Everyone seemed affected, at least to some degree. The defining characteristics of the disease were violent, uncontrollable sneezing and profuse sweating often followed by a high fever. People assumed the prolonged sneezing and sweating were the reasons for its remarkable power to spread. The people were only partially correct. Within two weeks of onset, the influenza symptoms would begin to clear. This first phase would later be known as the propagation phase of the endophage. What followed next was the payload phase, a massive system-wide cascade failure of the human body, with the neural and endocrine system breakdowns as the primary cause of death. In the coming months, it would be discovered that a completely synthetic self-replicating life-form had been released in Tel Aviv. Non-cellular but also not a virus, it attacked the "sealing wax" strands at the ends of human DNA chains. The afflicted person's DNA would begin to unravel from both ends, destroying the cells' ability to function and preventing replacement cells from being created. The body literally choked to death on itself, overwhelmed by the decay of the non-functioning cells and the lack of replacements. Megan remembered her own high fever. She thought it the strangest experience of her life, burning with a fever of 40C and grateful for the misery. And the reason for the gratitude was the strain of the Satan Bug that affected her and most of the world, the B strain. Except for children, it was a less lethal version of the primary disease. And the lack of fever was strongly correlated with the body unable to fight off the phage. It was the people with the high fevers who survived. For most of the world, the B strain resulted in 5% child mortality, 9% working adult mortality, and a 13% mortality rate for people over 65 years of age. A horrible scourge, but mild compared to the A strain lethality of 3% child mortality, 53% mortality in working adults, and an astonishing 98% fatality for people over 65. While most of the world suffered from the milder B strain, the A strain ripped south down the east coast of Africa and east as far as Pakistan, moving faster than the world's ability to contain the epidemic. A dozen years later, most of the territories afflicted by the A strain had still not recovered from their descents into anarchy and feudalism. There was small comfort in the fact that surviving either strain provided immunity against the other. Megan reached over and held Alvaro's hand. He opened his eyes and turned to her and said, "You know, I've been to several different cities in the West African Union. There's a universal belief there that the Israelis were developing the Satan Bug in some secret bio-weapons lab in Tel Aviv, and it somehow escaped." Megan grimaced and muttered, "They think that, huh? Why am I not surprised? It's so easy to blame the victim, especially when the victim is already dead." "No proof of course, but the belief has evolved into absolute truth. It's even a crime to suggest otherwise." Megan stretched her arms and shrugged. "You have no idea Megan how the plague changed us. We used to be a magnet for Europe's elite. You could buy a citizenship for two million euros, and tens of thousands of people did. Madeira was a safe, isolated haven for the world's elite. We were fabulously rich and incredibly crowded, heavily dependent on imported food." "And then the plague came. Most of the new citizens from Europe were in the retired population. In a month they all but disappeared. And they left their tangible wealth behind, jewels, bullion, registered works of art. By Madeiran law, it all became the property of the State." He paused for a moment, reliving the memories. "I was eleven years old. I remember lying in bed, burning up with fever. My mom and dad were both caring for me for a while. Their fevers weren't so bad. And then there was a long day when I lay in bed alone. I drank all the water they left me. Finally I felt so dehydrated, I forced myself out of bed near sunset... I found their bodies..." Alvaro gave out a long sighing breath. Megan leaned over and gently kissed him. "I can't imagine how horrible it must have been." "That very night, I had a most amazing dream. The whole core of singularity mechanics was laid out before me, all the key principles. I woke in a daze and realized I had to write everything down before it all disappeared. Then I collapsed. I recovered slowly over the next several days, nursing myself back to health. I went back to my notes. I couldn't believe what I had written. It was a fugue of genius. Honestly Megan, I don't think I ever could have developed singularity mechanics without those notes. The principles are so counterintuitive, energy densities that pull rather than push. There's so much subtlety in the equations." He got up and stretched. "After the plague, the surviving members of government were fanatic about making Madeira isolated and self-sufficient. We already had the Gamesa wind turbines from Spain, but the summers were turning hotter and drier. That's our key growing season. We needed more fresh water for irrigation. I developed Golem as an undergrad at Madeira University. It was my senior thesis project. The government immediately classified my work. In principle, I could produce more power than Madeira could ever use. But in practice..." "Yes? What was stopping you?" "My understanding was too specialized. With the approval of the government, I started writing papers on the impact of my theories on cosmology. I was hoping stir up some interest that would guide my future research." "And then you accepted at Princeton. Weren't you afraid revealing everything?" "The practical impact is so non-obvious, that really wasn't much of a concern. My thesis readers were very old men. Their only thought was the cosmology. And with their help, I learned everything I needed to do to build G1 and G2. And in 2043, I learned how to expand the dark spheres by a factor of five. Our top three generators have radii of 161, 162, and 163 light milliseconds, right at the limit of what we're capable of." "The jet! The jet is running on dark energy, isn't it?" "Very good Megan! And Discovery too, but that's not what I was talking about. How did you guess about the jet?" "Oh, a lot of clues. It pained you to talk about its performance. It was whisper quiet in the air. And you mentioned its fuselage is made out of carbon nano-tube mesh. That's also the receptor for you dark energy resonance, isn't it?" Alvaro smiled at her in open admiration. "Exactly right. The jet has a 75 millisecond sphere that can transfer more than ten times the engine thrust directly into the fuselage. We can exert a pull equivalent to lifting 90,000 kilograms." "What?! How much does the plane weigh?" "About 21 tons operating weight, plus 4 tons of payload and 20 tons fully fueled." Alvaro smiled as Megan's eyes went wide as she realized the implications. "That's right. We can make the fully loaded plane fall straight up, just as if gravity had been reversed. We don't need a runway." He smiled and added, "We fly out with almost empty tanks, refuel with our trading partner and land here with full tanks. We use just a little fuel during the take-off, to hide the true power." "And the transport ship does this too?" Alvaro nodded. "The corvette displaces 4800 tons. Its dark energy radius is at 118 light milliseconds, 1 GW of power and a maximum pull of 2.2 mega-Newtons. We can't lift the ship out of the water, but Discovery has incredibly powerful surface propulsion, and can do unbelievable rotations and sideways maneuvering with direct application of the dark force on the hull." Megan felt overloaded at first with all the data Alvaro was giving her, but then something in her mind clicked. "Wait a minute! Let me think about these numbers! G2's sphere is at 32 milliseconds, the jet at 75 ms, the ship at 118 ms, and you said earlier your top three generators start at 161 ms. The difference is always 43 ms. That can't be a coincidence!" "Brilliant Megan! In 43 milliseconds, light will travel 12,900 kilometers, greater than the diameter of the earth. No matter where on the planet the jet and ship are, their spheres will never touch each other nor any of the generators, not the G1 sphere inside them nor the top spheres on the outside." "Why is that an issue?" "Well, mathematically, spacetime would be in two places at once. I'm comfortable with that concept for photons, they do it all the time in interference phenomena, but for spacetime itself? I don't know what that means, and I don't want to find out!" Megan stared at him for a long time and finally nodded. "So, you have three top generators? And that's it?" "Yep. Officially, that's my top project to work on here. We know how to build a resonance sphere out to 163 ms, and we try to keep at least a 1 ms or 300 km spacing between the spheres. The three top generators are at the main complex in the Madeira mountains. Their names are Geber, Magnus, and Newton." "Ah... Three scientists?" "Three alchemists actually. It seemed appropriate. They run at 2.04 GW, 2.07 GW, and 2.1 GW. The two largest generators collapse their dark bubbles into a matter conversion process. We run everything else on Madeira with Geber. The desalination system takes the most power. Then there's the hydrogen disassociation plant to fuel all the cars and fishing boats. 2 GW is an enormous amount of power, more than enough for 120,000 people." "And what's the matter conversion process?" "Ah, my finest moment, converting dark energy directly into matter." Alvaro laughed. "Actually, I should also include Dr. Renato Costa. We worked on the theory together. We first tried making gold in 2044, produced a few gold nuclei, a few anti-gold nuclei, you know, negative charged nuclei of anti-protons and anti-neutrons?" Megan stared at him perplexed. "Uh... yeah?" "Of course the anti-gold would annihilate as soon as it touched anything. It was a mess, lots of gamma and beta rays and anti-neutrons. Then we found the right way to do it." He took a breath and continued. "We collapse a dark energy bubble onto an extruded carbon-12 wire. Gold is an especially nice target for export because it has only one stable isotope. No one gets suspicious with the isotopic purity because that's the way gold occurs naturally. Our alchemist formula is 1.2185 kg of carbon 12 and 1.4 grams of dark energy yields 1 kg of gold, 200 grams of hydrogen, and 20 grams of helium-4." Megan couldn't stop staring at her husband. "What?" "That's the ratio that balances all the baryons. Twenty carbon-12 nuclei plus some dark energy produces one Au197 nucleus, one He4 nucleus, and thirty-nine Hydrogen nuclei. That's the process we run flat out on Magnus and Newton at almost 100% efficiency. We produce 1 kg of gold every 8 hours and 20 minutes, along with 2.2 cubic meters of hydrogen and about 114 liters of helium." Megan tried to stop herself from laughing. "You're turning carbon into gold?" "Yeah, pure alchemy. The old alchemists would be so proud of us. In 2046, Magnus and Newton produced over one metric ton of gold for us. It might seem like a lot, but it was less than 55 liters by volume. That's what Madeira trades with." He gave his wife a kind smile. "I bought out your student loan obligations for three 500-gram ingots." Megan stared back. "My gosh," she whispered. "I always assumed they just let me go. Alvaro, you never told me." He shook his head. "It would have been too much like buying a wife, or even worse, buying a concubine. There's so much of that going on east of here." He blushed. "I guess I should have told you before this. Apologies." Megan dismissed his concern with a shake of her head. "Alvaro, don't apologize for saving my life. You never tried to enslave me." She paused for a moment. "Though in some cultures, you had the right." She hugged him. "I love you." They kissed for a few moments. Alvaro finally came up for air. "Anything else you'd like to know?" She grinned. "Alchemy! Can you tell me anything more about it?" "Well, it's not very forgiving process. There are a lot of restrictions. Our setup now is s stepping stone to something that'll be truly fabulous. The current resonance chamber is shaped like a pyramid with four vertices. The carbon12 wire is the top input vertex and the three vertices at the base are the three outputs. The overall reaction must be endothermic. You need a positive flow of dark energy as input. And currently we are working under the constraint that two of the three output feeds must also be endothermic. That's the reason for having both hydrogen and helium as outputs. They both have an excess mass density per nucleon above that of Carbon12. Dr. Costa is working to have just a single vertex be endothermic. It'll be a tremendous advance if he succeeds." "I'm not sure I'm following this, but why's that?" "Well, you could tune the resonance so the two exothermic vertices are just a hair below the magnitude of the endothermic hydrogen vertex. If I remember Renato's numbers, the same power from Magnus and Newton could produce 23 tons of hydrogen, 143 tons of iron, and 87 tons of gold per year." "My gosh," whispered Megan. "What would that look like, 87 tons of gold?" Alvaro smiled. "It would look like 4.5 cubic meters of gold. I should show you our vaults someday. We only have a few hundred kilograms of the stuff now, but it's still rather impressive." "I could really see the gold?" "Sure. I don't see why not. It's kind of fun to feel how heavy the small ingots are." He paused. "They all have to stay in the vault of course." ""Oh, but of course!" Megan smiled at him and then couldn't stop from laughing. "Eighty-seven tons of gold?!" "Oh, even more if we could tune the resonance finer, have just a hair more iron to gold. It's the energy from carbon to iron that's driving the process. The dark energy input is just a catalyst to frame the process and let it take off." "And why iron?" "Because it's at the bottom the elemental excess mass curve. Light elements like to fuse to iron. Heavier elements like to fission to iron. I'll give you an example. For the same 87 tons of gold, if we were using aluminum for the other vertex, we'd produce about 300 tons of aluminum and maybe 5 or 6 more tons of hydrogen. See the difference to 143 tons of iron?" Alvaro paused. "Of course, if we wanted that much aluminum, that's what we'd do." Megan looked confused. "I don't get it. You're using this process to make hydrogen? Wouldn't it be a lot easier just to disassociate water?" "Yes, certainly. But don't you see? We need to create hydrogen because we need some isotope as a dump for the extra protons." "Uh..." Megan scrunched her nose. "The what?" "Think of the process Megan. Carbon-12 has an equal number of protons and neutrons, six of each. There are a few stable isotopes with the same equal ratio, helium-4, lithium-6. If we wanted those elements, we would run a direct fission process and crack carbon-12 directly into our desired target. But almost all the isotopes we want have more neutrons than protons. Since we're starting with an even ratio with carbon-12 and our targets are neutron rich, we need an outlet for the excess protons. There are only two stable isotopes to choose from, hydrogen-1 and helium-3. Those are the only two stable isotopes with more protons than neutrons." Alvaro shrugged and continued. "The process is much more efficient with simple hydrogen. If we used helium-3 as our outlet, we'd have to give up a precious neutron for every two protons. Gold production would fall by more than 50%." "Okay, I think I get it. And if you and Dr. Costa succeed with your next phase, none of this will matter?" "Exactly! You got it. We'd have a higher ratio of aluminum to gold and all the helium-3 we wanted." He laughed. "A very light gas, perfect for zeppelins!" Megan nodded slowly. "Anything else you can tell me?" "Well, the number six seems to be magical for the input number. No other element except carbon will accept the dark resonance. And it seems the process will only work with stable isotopes for outputs. We'll never be able to use this process as a source for radioactive isotopes." Megan gave a deep frown. "That seems so strange. How could the process know whether the isotope is stable or not?" "That's a very good question. But the limit seems to be a half-life a billion times the age of the universe. We can make Bismuth-209. It has an alpha-decay path to Thallium-205 with a half-life of 1.9e19 years. But when we try to create an isotope with a slightly faster decay, the dark resonance refuses to lock. Our last attempt tried to make a meta-stable light isotope of zinc, Zinc-64, 30 protons and 34 neutrons. It has a half-life of 2.5e18 years. We just couldn't lock the resonance." Megan sighed. "Well, I guess there's a bright side to this. Nobody will be asking you to support a nuclear weapons program." Alvaro sighed with her and nodded. "And that suits me just fine. I have no desire to work in a radiation restricted environment anyway. Our equipment is not set up to handle it. It would be a real headache." Megan looked at him thoughtfully. "A very fortress-like mentality Alvaro. The world is starving, and here we are a small island sitting on our riches, tons of alchemist gold and 6+ GW of power." "Oh yeah, I know it. I've had this conversation many times with various members of Congress. We are a swimming pool surrounded by people dying of thirst, and our gates are closed." "Any chance of one day opening the gates, giving out a few drinks?" Alvaro frowned. "I try to stay optimistic, but seriously? At least with this session of Congress, I doubt it. The last time our government wanted to interact with the world was in 2036. The plague changed everything." "Isolationism?" "Yes, an extreme version of it too. We're totally focused on becoming self reliant. With full recycling, we're very close to being self sufficient now. We have the facilities to replicate just about anything, and until we figure out how to make larger resonance spheres, we're taking about as much dark energy as is safe to do. Our total impact is about 1% of the background ripples. Think of the geometry Megan. Our three top generators are 1 ms apart in sphere size. That's 300 kilometers. That's works because all three generators are at Madeira. We couldn't move one to the U.S., not even to Africa 800 km away. Their spheres would intersect." Megan nodded and waved at his nearby desk. "And that's your work now? To build larger spheres?" "Well, it's not just my work. I'm working with a great bunch of researchers. We think we're very close to taking advantage of a twofold symmetry and doubling our current dark radius from 163 ms to 326 ms. That'll give us enough force and range to start our own space program. We've built a small space shuttle and have a number of navigation and observation satellites that are almost set to launch." He smiled at her and continued. "Remember when you first came to Madeira from Houston? We were picking up the last critical parts for our space shuttle from the defunct U.S. Space Program, paying for everything with gold ingots." "Yes, I remember." "The shuttle should be ready within a year, assuming we'll know how to build its engine by then." Megan gulped. "My gosh Alvaro! One surprise after another! Wouldn't Madeira be seen if it starts flying a spaceship around?!" "Well, yeah. Those are the two things that are stopping us right now. We lack an engine for the shuttle, and we won't risk being detected. But it the world keeps falling apart, maybe in another few years, maybe we might do it." He paused for a moment and stretched. "While I'm at Porto Santo, I'd also like to take a look at why our generators get cold. That backscatter of energy into dark spacetime really shouldn't be there." "Is it a problem?" "Practically? No, not at all. And the government strongly encourages me to work on practical things. But I don't like mysteries, and the effect is a thorn in my side. Or maybe I should use the word diagnostic. There's something going on here that I don't understand." Megan nodded and petted him. "Somehow it's comforting to know you don't know everything." He grinned. "Makes me more human?" "Exactly!" She paused for a moment and studied his smile. "And you look as if you heard that comment before." Alvaro nodded. "My parents." Megan blinked. "Your parents didn't think you were human?" "Well, they loved me, and they were very proud of me, but I think I also bewildered them. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I had a brother or sister." Megan and Alvaro hugged and petted each other, neither saying anything for a long while. Megan finally yawned. "I probably should get back home. You want to work here for a while?" He nodded. "Well, thanks for the tour!" She kissed him. "Alvaro?" "Hmmm?" "We use horses and bicycles and walking instead of hydrogen cars on Porto Santo. Is the reason as obvious as I think it is?" "Sure. The island is so small, less than twelve kilometers tip to tip. And the roads are excellent. Who needs a car?" "The disabled." "Well, yeah. But we do have handicapped transportation, and fast ambulances for emergencies." Megan nodded, and after several more kisses with her husband left the office. ------- Chapter 9: The Betrayal Five months later. Time: Saturday, December 12, 2048 3:10 PM After two solid hours of work, Megan took a mini-break to stretch, putting her editing aside and walking around the plush office that was now both hers and Alvaro's. She was high in the mountains of Madeira, inside the energy research wing of the green-badge complex. As was usual for a Saturday afternoon, the research staff had left by 3 PM and now the wing seemed deserted, though Megan could still see occasional energy operations and security personnel through the window. And the grounds maintenance personnel had their hands full keeping the roads and the walkways plowed. It was snowing heavily outside, a blizzard. Down at Funchal the storm would be pure rain, but up here at almost 1500 meters it was more than cold enough for snow. Megan gazed at the power of the storm. It brought back memories of a cross-country skiing trip she had as a young child in Canada, riding the trains with her parents and two brothers along the beautiful Pacific coast. There were a lot of fond memories. Her dear parents! The little news there was about the great U.S. earthquake had been getting worse by the day. The U.S. east coast websites spoke in generalities, and there was no network contact with the west coast at all. Megan stared at the snowstorm in silence, her mind racing and trying to combat feeling of helplessness. So far away... There was almost nothing she could do. Almost... She turned and stared at her computer station. Her job had evolved in the last few months. On Porto Santo, her work as Lead Veterinarian was needed and deeply appreciated. But here on urbanized Madeira her skills were less critical. There was still massive agriculture on Madeira of course, but it was highly automated. On the main island, Megan was a useful addition to an already competent system. So during the even months her work had migrated to classified technical editing. With her top-level security clearance, her skills were in great demand at Madeira's energy labs, and she was sought after by a number of researchers. None of the papers left the green-badge area of course, but her skills in documenting the research were highly prized. A number of letters were written to the lab's governing body praising her contributions to the energy research work. Megan walked across the office and looked out the southern windows. Everything was a lush green two hours ago, but now a thick blanket of white covered everything. Even with the snow, Megan decided she preferred the lush climate of Madeira to the drier and warmer Porto Santo. She scanned the southwestern sky, searching for a hint of the sun. Sunrise and sunset times were near 6 AM and 4 PM today, and she guess the sun might be due southwest about now. But the swirling whiteness of the storm hid all hints of the sun's position. The office phone rang. Megan quickly walked over and answered it. "Megan here. Hello?" "Hi dearest. It's Alvaro." "Hi! I was hoping it was you!" Alvaro replied, "Before I say anything else, I'm confirming this is a secure line. Level three protocols are in effect." Megan took a moment to smile her husband's dedication to security. As the originator of the call, it was his responsibility to remind her of the level of restrictions in place. Alvaro was with the jet, Megan assumed either still at Vancouver or somewhere over Canada on his way home. Level three protocols meant that the conversation was encrypted with Madeira's best quantum scramblers and certain classified information was permitted. It also signified that, since the line was being routed through international satellite connections, absolutely no hint of Madeira's dark energy abilities should be made. "Are you still on the ground?" Megan looked at the clock. Her husband's flight was not due to depart Vancouver until 4 PM Madeira time, but she doubted he would have called her before takeoff. "No, we lifted off close to three hours ago. If you click up an atlas, look at the northernmost point where Manitoba and Ontario meet at the Hudson Bay. We're just north of East Pen Island right now. The sky is clear and the views are quite beautiful. We flew into the sunrise about an hour ago." Megan worked on her computer for a second. "I see the island. I'm happy you're having nice weather. Over here there's a big storm now. It's very impressive." She paused for a second. "When are you scheduled to land?" Megan had been careful not to mention the snow. That would identify her position to be in the high mountains, the location of the energy labs. That would be a minor violation of level three protocols. "We're getting a nice boost from a tailwind. Sometime around 10 PM Madeira time I think. How are things with you? Any news on our child?" he added eagerly. Megan grinned. "The baby and the baby's mother are fine. I had my checkup this morning. The child is right where it should be at sixty days post ovulation, meeting all the milestones. Embryonic development looks complete. Dr. Campas called our child a fetus for the first time this morning. Say goodbye to the word embryo. Dr. Campas is also guessing it might be a girl from the images, but for now it's still a guess. She put the odds at 70%" Megan heard Alvaro give a long deep sigh over the phone. "Megan?" "Yes?" "You deserve to know. British Columbia has sealed its border with the U.S. The situation on the west coast is about as bad as it can get." Megan's heart seemed to freeze for a moment. "Tell me?" she asked in a whisper. "Urban warfare has broken out, from just south of Vancouver we think all the way down to Mexico. We were hearing the sound of mortars and artillery all last night. That's why we left early." "My God Alvaro! Are you safe now?" "Yes. I'm very glad the great-circle path home is taking us north. We'll be leaving the Americas over the north coast of Labrador. Yeah, we're safe." "But the west coast! What happened?!" "The Canadians were kind enough to share their seismic data with us. The slip on the San Andreas Fault appears to have been catastrophic, a major event even on geologic time scales. The build-up of shear stress was much greater than people had feared. The revised estimate near the epicenter is 9.7 to 9.8 on the Richter scale." Alvaro heard Megan give a small whimper. It's been 142 years since the San Francisco earthquake of April 1906, and what Alvaro was describing was a geological event with a hundred times the ground motion and a thousand times the energy release. "Megan..." He paused. "You still there?" "Yes," she whispered. "I'm still here." "The Canadian scientists think the quake caused some sort of rupture on the eastern edge of the Juan de Fuca Plate. It's not far off the coast of Vancouver Island. They've been experiencing some very strange tides for the last few days. And there are huge jets of stream venting from the ocean." "What? I thought the earthquake was centered in southern California." "Megan, the fault failed everywhere, massive shifts near San Francisco, and the Canadian seismologist said all the way down to the segment that failed nearly two hundred years ago near Los Angeles." Megan gave a deep frown as she tried to remember her history lessons. She thought Alvaro was referring to the great Fort Tejon earthquake of 1857. Until a few days ago, that January 9th event at Richter 8.3 was considered to be the most violent California earthquake event in the past several hundred years. After a moment of silence, Megan asked, "And the war?" "The entire U.S. western coastline is in chaos. It appears extremist sleeper cells were activated by the disaster. They're attacking the remaining transportation links still functioning. The Golden Gate Bridge was one of the few major structures left standing in the Bay area, a true miracle, and then yesterday it was brought down by a tremendous explosion on the north tower. The Canadians shared their sat images with us. You can see the cables lying in the water. It's a mess." Alvaro sighed and continued. "The extremists are fighting pitched battles with the U.S. military right now, and from what the Canadians can sense, the extremists are winning at least half the battles. The U.S. is having a very hard time mobilizing with so much of their transportation system gone. And they can't use their firepower without killing the civilians." Alvaro and Megan were both quiet for a moment. The impact of the war on the civilian population was too easy to imagine. Similar tactics had been perfected in the Iberian Wars and last month were used to seize control of southern France. Megan finally cleared her throat and wailed softly, "My country... My family... Is there nothing we can do?" Her question was in direct reference to Madeira's dark energy resources and Alvaro knew it, but her plea was so general he didn't fault her. There was no security violation. It was a contention Alvaro and Megan had had frequently in the last two months. On October 9, 2048, subversive warfare had erupted across Europe, Central Asia, and South America. The coordination of the terrorist attacks was unprecedented and beyond the world's ability to suppress. The United Nations was all but dissolved and Madeira's allies were falling one by one around the world. And here was fortress Madeira with critical power capabilities sitting on the sidelines in complete isolation. Megan thought the government's position was objectively absurd. Once the rest of the world fell to the extremist's knife, did the local Congress really expect Madeira to be left alone in peace? In his heart Alvaro agreed with her completely, but he was also a loyal citizen of his country, a person who obeyed his government. Megan could hear his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. No. There's nothing I can do." Alvaro talked quietly with his wife for a few moments more and then said he had to switch to another call. Megan sat by her desk stunned, staring at the phone. She thought silently, "Nothing I can do?! I?! Not we?!" The softest of a whisper, "Did he really say that?" How much was she reading into a simple change of pronoun? Did Alvaro know, did he even suspect what she had been plotting for these last two months? Did he just send her a signal of acceptance, a sign to go ahead? He said there was nothing he could do. He did not say there was nothing she could do. Did he really just tell her to become Madeira's greatest traitor? Megan had already done something extremely illegal. She thought she was risking many years of imprisonment, followed by the certainty of being stripped of her citizenship and deported back to the United States. All the key files were in her Funchal condo now, already encrypted with an old code that the Ft. Hood base commander once pressed her into learning during an emergency. Only the U.S. military could extract the clear-image from the music, images of the basic physics principles, generator schematics, diagrams, all the core components needed to produce a workable dark power system. As least Megan thought so. She had such a tyro understanding of all the papers she was editing. "I think it will make it through the filters," Megan thought. "It should. It's just a bunch of audio files of music. Is the world internet up? It was up this morning. Please dear God..." In a semi-daze, she closed the office and went to her car. The guard at the front gate advised her to drive slowly. There would be stretches of thick ice along the road before she completed her descent. Megan gave him a quick nod back. And she did drive very slowly. It was over an hour later before she arrived home in cold pouring rain, a time of tortuous self examination of where her true loyalties lay. But in the end, her mind was filled only with her love for her parents and younger brother. After she let herself into her condo, she locked the door and reread the letter from her older deceased brother. Then she went straight to her computer. Over the next several hours, she transmitted the entire autumn series of Funchal's evening concert performances to the base commander at Ft. Hood, Texas. Five months later. Time: Friday, May 7, 2049 2:52 PM Megan was just finishing up a house call on a birthing mare near the southeastern end of Porto Santo. The mare had needed help with the positioning of the foal during the delivery, and Megan had to reach deep into the mare's vagina and womb and now her arms smelled of embryonic fluid. She felt a bit tired and was looking forward to a shower, but she also felt happy with helping to bring forth a new life. She smiled as she watched the newborn colt stand on his wobbly legs and get licked by his mother. Megan was standing by her horse Feathers, chatting amiably with the owner of the farm outside the barn. His name was Adao. He first met Megan more than a year ago, and he treated her now like an adopted child and Megan loved him. At age 79, he was also the oldest man on Porto Santo. It was a fine spring afternoon. It had been a bit muggy the last few days, but then the west winds had blown in some fresh air. The sun was still high in the western sky, about halfway between the horizon and straight up. Megan sighed and stretched her pregnant body and glanced at her watch. She realized she had another four hours till sunset. Still, maybe she would take it easy and go home and shower and take the rest of the day off. The idea of a nice leisurely ride home through the picturesque farmlands was very enticing. Or maybe she would head south and ride Feathers home along the beach at the surf's edge. Yeah... The old farmer seemed to read her thoughts. "That's right Megan. Don't push things with the baby. Head on home and get your feet up." Megan blinked and then laughed. "Wow Adao! How did you do that?" "What? Know your thoughts?" He smiled. "It's an old Jedi mind trick." "Huh?" Megan paused and then smiled. "Ah yes, the old Star Wars movies. I saw them for the first time last year. Alvaro downloaded them into our home entertainment system at Funchal." Adao laughed. "You saw it for the first time last year?! I can remember seeing the original film with my parents when it first came out! We were at the Coronet Theater in San Francisco. My God, it was more than seventy years ago! You wouldn't believe the lines! We had to wait for hours to buy our tickets." Adao sighed and looked around at his farm. "Such a different world..." Megan smiled. "Adao! I didn't know you grew up in the States!" "I didn't. I grew up in Lisbon. But I had an uncle in San Francisco. We were visiting my father's brother in... let me think. It must have been the summer of 1977. Yeah, that was it, 1977, the same year Elvis died." He gave Megan a crafty wink. "But there's a rumor he was sighted recently at Funchal." Megan stared at him without comprehension. "What? Who's Elvis?" Adao blushed. "Ah, forgive me sweet daughter. I was just firing up some old memories. Such a different world..." His eyes glanced down to Megan's belly. "So, is the baby okay? It's due in two more months, right?" "Yep, two more months. I have July 6 decked out with all sorts of logos on my computer notepad. And so far it's been a perfect pregnancy, just a touch of nausea now and then, no real problems at all." Adao nodded. "That's wonderful. Now tell me you'll be staying at Funchal at the end of June." "Okay. Adao, I'll be staying at Funchal at the end of June." Megan sighed. "I'll miss Porto Santo. This is where my true home is. I think my husband thinks so too." "Well, he was born here. But the medical facilities..." "Oh yes, I know. Funchal University Medical Center might be the finest hospital in the world right now, bar none. The decision is what we used to call in the States a no-brainer." "How long will you be gone?" "I'm not sure. Definitely for the first three months I just want to think about the baby. But I think I might be back here starting the end of October." "Excellent! Don't worry about us Megan. Just prepare yourself for lots of visitors when you return." Megan smiled and was just about to reply to his kind words when the clear afternoon sky and bright sun above them winked out of existence. ------- Chapter 10: Dark Days Megan's mind was a blank. One second she had been talking to Adao, and the next second she couldn't see anything. Her first thought was that she had had a stroke, but except for the lack of vision, her mind felt fine, no headache at all. Could both her retinas have detached at the same time? "Megan," Adao's frightened voice came to her in the pitch blackness, "I just lost all my vision." "What?! I can't see either!" Megan paused and noticed the terrified whining of Feathers nearby. She stumbled over to her horse in the inky blackness and hugged Feathers by her neck. "There, there. Easy girl. It's okay... Adao?" "Yes?" "Adao, where are you?" "I'm sitting on the grass. Are you by your horse?" "Yes. I don't think Feathers can see either." "Some sort of weapon?" asked Adao. "So fast! My eyes don't hurt at all. I would have thought a blinding flash would be..." "Yes. I know." Megan fought to keep down a rising swell of terror. "What if it's not your eyes?!" an inner voice was screaming at her. From the orientation of the post and rail where Feathers was tied, Megan held up the palm of her hand, trying to keep it at a forty-five degree elevation and westerly as best as she could. She waited and sensed for a long silent moment. "Adao? You still there?" "Yes. I think the wind is picking up." "Yes. I think you're right. Ado, do you know where west is?" "What? I suppose. I can feel the barn behind me." "Good. See if you can feel the sunlight." A quiet minute passed, and then Megan heard Adao begin to pray. "Adao?" "The Heavens Megan! I had hoped the world would end in light, not in darkness!" "Oh, I don't think this the end of the world, not yet anyway! I can still smell the farm! And listen to all the frightened animals! I don't think God has ended the world Adao. Listen to the poor frightened animals! Torturing His creatures like this just isn't God's style." Megan shivered in the breeze. The wind was becoming quite brisk now. Adao heard a rustle above the wind. "Is that you? What are you doing?" "I have a flashlight in my saddlebag... Yes!" Megan gave a shout of primal joy when she switched it on. She flashed the light on Adao's astonished face. They both walked into the dark barn and tested the electric lights. Nothing. "I don't know what to think," Adao said in a breaking voice. "It's not just the sun. The stars are gone too. The sky is as black as ink." Megan nodded numbly. She was shivering uncontrollably and her mind was already racing with guilt. "Oh my God, oh my God! What have I done?! Did I do this?! Oh my God yes, I think I did! Oh my God, have I destroyed Your creation?!" Adao turned to her and his simple whispered question brought her back to reality. "What should we do?" he cried. Megan gasped as she fought down her panic and regained control of her emotions. "I want to reach the power center. My husband is there." Adao remembered the color of Megan's badge and nodded. In the white diode light of the flashlight, his eyes glanced down to her pregnant womb and a wave of compassion broke through his fear. "Yes, your husband. That's where you belong. Megan, shine your light over here." Adao walked over to his tractor. "It's less than three kilometers away and I've got a full tank. Let me take the hoods off the headlights. I'll guide you." And with the tractor out in front, Megan slowly rode her horse up the hills to the power station, Feathers finding her steps in the red glow of the taillights. Except for the tractor, it was blacker than the blackest night. As they neared the power center, Adao and Megan could see a number of lights coming from the secure area. The simple lights instilled a profound sense of hope as they approached. Megan hugged and kissed Adao in gratitude for his help before she and her horse passed through the main gate. The guards had their weapons unholstered and were looking very nervous. Megan exchanged brief nods of recognition with them and then rushed to Alvaro's office. His office was well lit with his computers and communications systems up. He cried briefly when he saw her and got up from his desk to give her a brief hug, and then rushed back to his consoles. Megan sat meekly at her own desk for a while, feeling incredible waves of guilt and helplessness. Eventually there was a pause in Alvaro's teleconference with Madeira and Megan asked if they wanted her to take notes on their conference. Alvaro nodded a quick yes. And they worked nonstop for the next ten hours. A guard brought in a light meal around 11 PM. Megan had no appetite but forced herself to eat some greens and dried fish because of the baby. Her guilt was overwhelming her. Alvaro and the scientists at Madeira finally called it quits after 2 AM Saturday morning. Technicians would work nonstop and continue their repair work on the dark generators. They would also prepare for the next set of experiments the researchers had designed. Alvaro confirmed they would meet again at 9 AM and then he shut down the conference link. The steady wind outside was almost storm force but steady with very little turbulence. It was extremely unusual. And the sky remained an inky pool of darkness. Alvaro and his wife undressed by the light of a single two-Watt white diode. He opened up a sofa bed and they were lying down petting each other a few moments later. In great tenderness Alvaro caressed the firm and swollen womb of his pregnant wife. She lay still and shuddered for a while, and then whispered, "Is there any hope?" "I hope so..." he replied, and then laughed at his own words. "Yes, there is hope! We still have gravity!" Megan remained silent for a while, and then whispered, "Huh?" "Your comprehension has increased tremendously darling, these last few months. Did you follow the gist of the conference?" "Some of it..." "We still have gravity. We're not completely cut off from our universe. Somehow the gravitational presence of a true Earth is manifesting through the dark bubble." "Then the sun... then our universe still exists too? On the other side of the bubble?" Alvaro sighed in the dim light. "That's not quite the right way to think of it. Spacetime has been torn. But Golem's bubble has not broken. There is no other side of the bubble. It's a boundary, a singularity, an edge of spacetime that gravitons are somehow managing to jump across. Some sort of gravitational tunneling..." "My dear God," Megan whispered, "What have I done?" "Hmm? It wasn't you dear wife. The diagnostics on other bubbles confirm it. Bubble intersection occurred first on G1 and then G2. They were exploded from the inside. Coke was destroyed about the same time. And then all the higher bubbles were destroyed. Thank God the wars caused the West African Union to cancel our trading run this month. At least we're all in this together. Discovery is docked at Madeira now." "It was me Alvaro," Megan cried out in a hoarse whisper. He dismissed her comment completely. "We triangulated the source of the destruction. A new bubble was created in Princeton, New Jersey. It must have been the work of an idiot savant." Megan paused for a long moment. "Why do you say that?" Alvaro was quiet for a moment, and then his frustration and fear overwhelmed him. His voice took on a tone of fury. "For someone to develop the theories far enough to build what they built, and yet have so little understanding of what they were doing... I can't think of another word for it... Idiot savants... And I can't emphasize the word idiot enough! The fools!" He blushed over his outburst. "Sorry." "I'm the one in need of forgiveness," Megan whispered in reply. "Did you follow the gist of the conference?" "Somewhat." "A massive resonance! They must have been using kilowatt lasers! Kilowatts! The fools! There is never a reason to use such power. Never! A delicate touch is all you need. How can you develop the theory of dark power and not realize this?!" "They didn't develop your theories Alvaro." "Their monstrosity directly intersected our G1 and G2 bubbles, both of them! It tore spacetime!" Alvaro paused, as if hearing Megan for the first time. "Excuse me Megan. What did you say?" "I said they didn't develop your theories Alvaro. I gave them your theories." There was a moment of silence, and then Alvaro made a strange choking sound. "What?!" he hissed. The hand caressing her womb left her body. In a crying voice, Megan slowly recited all that she had done in sending the classified material to the U.S. Alvaro never interrupted her, not once. Afterwards she wiped her eyes and waited in silence for his judgment. She wondered if he would ever touch her again. The long minutes passed with no response. The waiting finally became unbearable. "Alvaro?" He grunted in reply. "I betrayed you." "Yes... Tell me Megan, do you ever dream of going home?" "I am home Alvaro!" Megan sobbed in reply. "I'm so sorry! I know, I know. I betrayed Madeira too." Another grunt and then a hiss. "Madeira! Your new homeland! One that has shown you nothing but kindness!" "I know, I know!" Megan's voice cracked. "If we survive this, I'm looking at a life in prison, aren't I?" "Are you joking Megan?! This isn't the old European Union! If this became known, you would be executed immediately!" Megan gulped and then her heart froze. "They'll let me give birth first, won't they?" Alvaro took some deep breaths and tried to calm down. Another long moment of silence followed. Megan waited with tears in her eyes and her heart filled with absolute terror for her child. Her husband finally answered her question in a calm voice. "Yes, I suppose. The child is innocent." His hand came and caressed her hair and the top of her head. "But they'll never find out." It took Megan a moment to realize what Alvaro had said. "You're not going to tell them?" she whispered. "Megan, you are my wife. My first loyalty is to you." He started to cry. Megan felt like touching him, but she was too deeply buried in her shame to initiate the gesture. "I don't deserve your loyalty. I don't deserve you." "Megan..." "Yes?" Again, the hand caressed her head and hair. "All meaningful relationships are based on trust. All of them! You must allow me to trust you again! You must! You must become a wife who is trustworthy!" "I will! I promise! Please forgive me! I swear I will never betray you again! Never again! I swear it!" His other hand returned to her in great tenderness, resting like a feather on her womb. They were hugging fiercely a moment later, Megan openly weeping in gratitude. They lay there together gently rocking, the office windows pools of absolute blackness. "Did you really think I gave permission?" Alvaro whispered with a sigh. It took Megan a minute to regain control of her breathing before she could speak. "Oh, I don't know what I thought, whether I thought you did or whether I knew I was deceiving myself. In the end, all I could see was the horror in the world, and a choice either to make a stand or surrender into apathy." "You did not choose a correct place to stand." "Oh yes, I see that now. I see it so clearly. Alvaro, have I destroyed God's creation?" He took a deep breath and then let it out very slowly. "No. The fact that we still have an earthlike gravity is very encouraging. The smallness of Golem's bubble makes it very robust. Except for gravitons, the bubble is acting like a perfect adiabatic wall. Nothing is getting in or out." "Are we prisoners inside the bubble then?" "I think it's more of a lifeboat than a prison. We're very fortunate the bubble did not burst when spacetime tore. But Golem is being pushed by a cosmic dark storm. Everything inside Golem was popped from its interface with the reality of the rest of the universe. We're being pushed by the tear in spacetime..." "My God, what have I done?" "I'm not sure, but Megan, you didn't destroy the universe. And I'm hoping spacetime has a great capacity to mend itself. The mathematics behind singularity mechanics suggests that it does. The quantum tumblers of uncertainty will repair the damage." He paused. "I'm almost certain." Megan nodded without comprehending what her husband just said. "And what about the rest of the solar system? Does a tear in space propagate at light speed?" Alvaro thought for a moment and then chuckled. "That question has no defined answer. Not just space Megan, spacetime. How fast does time move, or a tear in time move? Does your question even have meaning?" Megan didn't answer. She lay with him silently, understanding very little of what Alvaro was saying, and the stress of the super long day and her pregnancy were making her feel very tired. She normally would have been asleep many hours ago. And now her husband's love for her and his forgiveness were finally allowing her to rest. She felt her body collapsing in his arms, and she sighed in contentment as his fingers brushed the silky curls of her pubic fur. Alvaro turned the white diode light off. The only lights left were a few green console diodes by his desk. The room was almost as black as the windows. His fingers touched her womb with great tenderness. He thought he could feel the beat of her heart and imagined he could even feel the fast flutter beat of the child's heart within her. "Asleep?" he whispered. With her eyes still closed, Megan yawned. "No. But I think I'll be soon. From my heart Alvaro, thank you for forgiving me. I don't think I could bear your rejection." He sighed. "Life sometimes hands us difficult choices... but this wasn't one of them. You are my wife and I love you." He petted her, and then his hand caressed up the side of her womb until his fingertips found and then lightly brushed against her darkening nipples. "Besides, if I turned you in, I'd never get the chance to taste how sweet your milk will be. I'm hoping for something really special." Megan eye's blinked open and she sensed her husband smiling at her in the darkness. "Alvaro! We agreed! My milk is for the baby!" She giggled at the memory of their past playfulness, and held his hand to her breast. "You only have the right to slurp on the leftovers." He nodded submissively and then became serious. "I'm trying to remember my flight over Canada, why I used the word I on the plane and not we." "Yes?" "I think I was trying to shield you from my feelings of helplessness. Madeira's path was wrong and we both knew it. But I never dreamed you would... well..." "Yeah... Alvaro?" "Hmm?" "During the conference call, what was that part about the lasers?" "Uh... Well, there were several parts about lasers. We have to replace all the fused laser assemblies on the dark generators, all except Golem's. G1 and G2 should be done within the next ten hours. We still won't be able to pull dark power. There's no universe to pull from." "No, not that." "Oh. Well, Madeira's lab is also equipped for making laser measurements on the size of Golem's bubble at the edge of spacetime." "Yes, that's what I meant." Megan yawned. "Golem's bubble is still ninety kilometers in radius, centered on my office safe at Madeira. There's also a circular wind that's developed within the bubble. We're currently working to understand where the angular momentum is coming from, and how it's coupling to the atmosphere. The lasers also indicate the bubble is pulsing." "Huh?" Megan took a deep breath in the darkness, so tired but struggling to wake up, at least for a moment. "You mean like a heart?" Alvaro nodded. "Somewhat. There are strange torsional stresses on the bubble, cyclic, one with a period of about forty-six seconds, and a much faster one with a frequency of about eight Hertz. The pulses are somehow driving angular momentum into the atmosphere, the ocean too we think." Megan grimaced. "Will the wind keep increasing?" Alvaro shrugged in the darkness. "The wind is at storm force now at the edge of the bubble but the increase is leveling off. It's certainly enough to drive the wind turbines. That's what we're running the country on now, 30 MW of wind energy. Congress has set up a system of rotating blackouts so everybody gets enough power to run their refrigerators." "Oh, that's smart." Megan yawned again. She would feel herself losing the battle to stay awake, and she gave up and surrendered to her fatigue. "Yes, I agree. It sends a message that the government thinks we'll get out of this. That's exactly the right message to send." He paused. "And we have a huge surplus of stored power in hydrogen fuel cells. We can run our critical systems for months on hydrogen power." He paused for a moment, waiting for a response. "Wife?" he whispered. He didn't get an answer. Megan was resting peacefully in his arms, her breathing slow and deep. Alvaro covered them both with a blanket and tried to follow her into sleep. But his mind would not rest. His eyes had adjusted to the super dim light, and he got up slowly and walked to a black window. The perfect inkiness of the sky was very unsettling, and the stiff wind sounded mournful as it whistled against the building. He shivered and returned to his wife's warmth, his hand cupping a soft breast, his mind at last finding a quiet peace in her enduring love for him. A full day later... Time: Sunday morning, May 9, 2049 6:54 AM Estevao's voice came over the conference line. "We're as ready as we can be Alvaro. All systems are green on this end." Alvaro nodded at Porto Santo and hugged Megan by his side. "There's no reason to wait Estevao. Pop Golem's bubble whenever you're ready." There was a short pause as Estevao worked. "Sequence has been pushed to full readiness. One final safety interlock to disengage. Alvaro?" "Yes?" "It was you who discovered how to pop the bubble at the correct point on the cycle. We took a vote here, and decided the rest of us were just along for the ride." Alvaro frowned. "It was a team effort Estevao." "Nevertheless, we'd like you to give the final command. We'll follow your instructions, and may God's mercy be upon us." "Oh, I don't think we're ever without it. Destruct sequence to level prime Estevao." "Acknowledged. Destruct sequence locked, destruct sequence loaded, destruct sequence now at level prime. Destruct priority overrides all interlocks. Final failsafe has been terminated." Megan held her breath. Alvaro put his arm around her and thought he felt their child quicken within her womb. He waited for the 46-second cycle to reset, approaching the brief period when the dark bubble appeared to be unstressed. "And execute!" he said firmly. Seconds later, at the precise instant of zero torsion, their last dark bubble popped from existence. ------- Chapter 11: Dawn Megan let out an explosive burst of joy as beautiful golden sunlight began streaming in through the eastern windows. It was as if somebody flipped a master switch on the great dome of outdoor light. Megan raced to the windows to see, laughing with uncontrollable delight at the sight and the release of her guilt. The sun was already about twenty degrees above the horizon and a little north of due east. "Oh look!" she cried to her husband. "Look how beautiful Alvaro! Come and see the good Earth!" Alvaro came to her side and laughed with her, tears of gratitude and relief falling from their eyes. Then he returned to his console and began conversing with the research teams at Madeira. Megan paid scant attention. She heard him say, "I know. We're on schedule, 8 AM and 10 AM and noon..." Megan could no longer contain herself. She left the office and headed out of the building. She was soon outside the gates and wandering down the hillside. The power station was sited in the high hills, several hundred meters above sea level, and Megan had a fine prospect of the island. The wind seemed to be dying down rapidly. Megan surveyed her homeland with a critical eye. She saw nothing to take the smile from her face. The wind had been robust but not destructive. And the plants seemed to have survived the inky black Saturday with no trouble at all. Megan wasn't too surprised. Friday had been a fine sunny day until the mid afternoon, the plants getting a good ten-hour drink of sunlight. And now it looked as if they'd get almost a full fine sunny day today. She laughed openly in her relief. The plants would be fine! With a song in her heart, Megan strolled down the hill, occasionally hugging her island neighbors that she met along the way. It was shortly after 10 AM by the time she returned to the power center. The exercise had felt wonderful, but now she felt in need of a shower. She'd miss Alvaro's hands on her soapy body and how he loved to wash her, but she didn't think she could persuade him to come into the women's locker room with her. No matter. She walked into his office just in time to catch the tail end of yet another conference call. "G2 now on line," Alvaro was saying. "I know we're a few minutes late, but it really was appropriate to run the diagnostics up to level four." "Oh hell Alvaro," replied the voice on the speaker, "you and I both know we shouldn't be doing this at all today. Why isn't this obvious to everybody?" Alvaro chuckled. "I agree Renato. And yet, the first two systems have come up flawlessly. Award Congress a few points for sheer dumb luck." "I'll report then that G0 will be available by noon?" "At noon or perhaps a bit later, not by noon. And remember the bandwidth on the cable Renato. Madeira is only going to get another 10 MW from G0." "My God Alvaro! I don't think Congress realized that! I had half forgotten myself. So what will Porto Santo do with the surplus?" "We'll be using our second high voltage line to Ilhen na Cahleta, topping off the hydrogen and fresh water storage tanks. Cable capacity was the reason we never put G0 back in operation, you know." "Yes, I remember now. What should I do if Congress asks if it's feasible to overload the undersea cable?" "Ask them in return if they are insane." "Well... Seriously?" "Renato, we are absolutely not going to overload the cable! Madeira will be getting 165 MW of baseline power from Porto Santo, up to 24 MW from their wind turbines, and then there's the hydroelectric capacity and the hydrogen fuel cells! A few years ago we used to run Madeira with a lot less, and it'll only be a few weeks before the top generators are online again. Madeira will be fine!" There was a pause, and then Renato said, "I agree. I'll get back to you at noon. Enjoy the day!" Alvaro ended the call as Megan sat by his side. She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "Did I understand that conversation correctly? Are we really back in the dark energy business? So soon?" Alvaro shrugged and nodded. "G1 and G2 are already online." "So fast! Doesn't the government like the sunshine?" "Yes, I know. I would have waited too. But there are some subtle points to this. What Princeton tried to do set up a truly monstrous resonance condition. It was fortunate that their bubble touched ours and shattered as soon as it did." "Ah. And everything is working okay now?" "Yes. We're pumping 155 MW straight to Madeira, the full capacity of G1 and G2." "Nothing for Porto Santo?" "Oh, after noon today, we'll be the rich ones. We're commissioning G0 again, another 70 MW, 10 of which to go to Madeira and 60 MW for here. Just wait till noontime." He looked at Megan and smiled. "How's the outside?" "Beautiful! I've got a little energy left. Come out with me!" A short while later they were sitting down in a grassy courtyard near Alvaro's office, a flowerbed on one side and a shade tree on the other. "Okay to talk here?" asked Megan. "It's still a green-badge area. I would think so." Alvaro looked around. The wind had died down to a moderate breeze and was blowing from the northwest, clean and rich with the smell of the ocean. "You're right. This is very beautiful. The sunlight looks so bright and clean." Megan looked around and nodded. "Yes. I hadn't noticed before but it is a very clear day. And the air too! It smells so sweet!" Megan took a deep and enjoyable breath. "Wonderful... Husband, what's your schedule like? Does the government want you back at the main labs?" "I hope to stay here with you on Porto Santo. The technicians know their work. I need time to theorize." He paused for a moment and then said quietly. "There are some critical measurements to make this evening with the moon. I'll be on a conference call with the Madeira Observatory staff this evening. I might not get home till very late." Megan laughed. "Why am I not surprised? Tell me about it when you do get home?" "Well... No." "Oh right. Our bedroom is not a green-badge area. Does the government really think spies have bugged our house?" "Oh Megan, don't be too sarcastic about it. Almost certainly not, but spies do exist. A huge percentage of the time, security standards are wasted effort, but they are still appropriate to maintain. Complete failure can occur from a single leak. These grounds are certified free of bugs. They are scanned often. Our house is not." A sigh. "Okay. I see your point." "You really wouldn't want our house to be a green-badge area, would you? All the security protocols, frequent sweeps for bugs..." "No, no, I get the point." Alvaro smiled and touched her tenderly. "Sweet Megan, I'm not trying to hide anything from you." "You really trust me?" she whispered. "Yes. I'm completely sincere about this too." Alvaro paused. "How about we have lunch here tomorrow and I'll give you a briefing?" "Okay! That'll be great!" They chatted for a few minutes more, and then Megan rode off to her clinic while Alvaro returned to his office. It struck them both how wonderfully thrilling it was to get back to the simple cycle of a real day with the expectation of a night with real stars. The next day... Megan met her husband for lunch in the power center's cafeteria at noon. She was delighted to see a plentiful supply of both anglerfish and bluefin tuna being served, and talked the server into giving her some of each. With a generous portion of fresh spring vegetables, she sat down with a beaming smile at the table Alvaro had picked. "Doesn't this look great?!" "Yeah." They ate their meals with great enjoyment. Near the end, Alvaro gave a big grin. "Wow, this was good. I heard the fishermen hit a phenomenal school of fish yesterday, only ten kilometers north of Porto Santo, a real fluke." "What's the latest word on the missing boats?" Alvaro sighed and nodded. "Some good news. All the ones that were outside the harbor but still inside the bubble are safely back in port now. They rode out the storm okay. But two boats were outside Golem's radius, further south... There's still no sign of them." Alvaro ate the last bites of his fish in silence. "We were fortunate we didn't lose more." "Well, with all the wars going on..." Megan paused. The reports from the Canary Islands over the last two months had been horrific. Pirates who were almost certainly supported by the West African Union had been attacking fishing boats. The boats would disappear and the only thing the searchers would find were the floating dead bodies of the crews. In addition to being killed, many of the bodies showed signed of mutilation. Madeira had not suffered the same misfortune. So far the isolation of the deep ocean had acted as a protective barrier. Megan sighed. "Weren't the boats ordered to stay within sight of Madeira or Porto Santo? Do you think pirates got them?" She paused. "What would they have seen anyway, looking at Golem's bubble from the outside? It must have shown up on satellite images. The whole world must know about us now." Alvaro had finished his meal. He took a deep breath. "Come on. Let's talk more in my office." A few minutes later he continued the conversation. "Tell me Megan. You've heard the government press releases about what happened over the weekend. How are the people taking it?" Megan leaned back in her chair. "Well, they're still spooked of course, but I'll give the government a little credit. Their announcements were decent. People want answers, but they're also willing to be patient, at least for a while. Congress didn't say any outright lies, and what it did say lays the foundation for actually telling the people about dark energy. Do you think that'll happen soon?" A contented sigh from her husband. "Yes, I think so, just a few more people to convince in Congress. In their hearts they know the game is up." He stretched. "We are so incredibly fortunate Megan! The danger of what happened was without limit. But we got nothing but good news from our observations last night." Megan smiled. "Go on." "The Earth's tilt and precession are exactly where they should be." "Uh..." She paused for a moment. "I know what Earth's tilt means and how the seasons work. But can you remind me about precession?" "Sure. It's the orientation of Earth's elliptical orbit around the sun. Right now Earth's perihelion occurs in early January. That's the point where the Earth is closest to the sun. That's why winter is the shortest season in the northern hemisphere and summer the longest. But the point precesses on a 21,000 year cycle. Five thousand years from now, perihelion will occur in early April, making spring the shortest season and autumn the longest." "Ah, I get it. Okay." "Earth has exactly the right position. Its precession is correct, its tilt is 23.45 degrees, and all the stars and the planets and the moon are exactly in the right places and phases... This is definitely the solar system of May 10, 2049." Megan gave him a puzzled look. "Oh Alvaro. Time travel is such an impossibility. You didn't really expect it could happen, did you?" "Actually I don't know what I expected. The mathematics suggested what we and Princeton did could cause a singularity in time. Sunday morning, before we popped the bubble, I had wild visions of us finding ourselves anywhere from the Big Bang to the cold emptiness of a rundown universe." Megan stared at him. "A cold empty universe? Are you serious?" "Well, it is our ultimate fate, you know. After many billions of years, the dark pressure will be strong enough to pull apart galaxies, then pull apart solar systems, the stars, the planets... Eventually it'll be strong enough to pull apart atoms, and in the end it'll be strong enough to pull apart quantum reality. There will be no more quantum interactions. The light and the electrons and the protons will be nowhere at all for all eternity. That's how the universe is going to end." "Sounds like a very sad way for everything to die." Alvaro shrugged and then gave a mirthless laugh. "Could there be a happy way?" Megan frowned. "Well... And we could have gone there now?" Her hands came up unconsciously and shielded her belly. "But we didn't. There was no time travel. We have definite observational proof. The matter is settled." He paused. "Still, there was a chance, I think." "And you never told anybody?" "A few of us talked about it. But for making announcements? What would be the point? Staying inside the bubble would mean absolute death. It was a closed system. We would have no place to dump our entropy, no place to dump our disorder..." He thought for a moment. "I take that back. Angular momentum was being pulsed into the wind. Very strange. Some sort of backscatter phenomenon, there in reality but not in the current version of the mathematics." "Uh, you mean similar to the generators getting cold?" "Exactly. Very good Megan. I believe the two phenomena are related, transfers that really shouldn't be there. Energy flowing out, momentum flowing in... It's something I want to work on." Megan frowned and shook her head. "Oh Alvaro! A year ago you showed me perpetual motion, and now you want me to believe in time travel?! What about the intrinsic paradoxes?!" "No, it wouldn't work like that." He sighed. "There would be no loops, no causality violations, just a bubble jumping from one n-D surface of a multiverse to another. But, no matter! It didn't happen. We have proof." "So what did happen?" "Ah, there's so much we still don't know. We might have lucked out though. I haven't the faintest idea how this worked, but it appears the phenomenon might have generated a worldwide electromagnetic pulse. The world's electronic communications systems seem to be fried. We can't raise any satellite connections, nothing in low orbit, not the mid orbit GPS signals, not the geosynchronous satellites. Not even a carrier wave, nothing. And the entire RF spectrum is completely quiet. With no communications and no sat images, as amazing at it might seem, perhaps the existence of the bubble here went unnoticed by the rest of the world." Megan tilted her head. "So how do you know the rest of the world is still there?" "We laser-pinged the lunar Einstein station. It's still there, and gave us exactly the time stamp we were looking for, accurate to within a microsecond. We're in the correct time, for what was inside the bubble and what was outside the bubble." He sighed. "My Alma Mater must be a mess though. The resonance that collapsed at Princeton was a monstrosity. I did some preliminary calculations..." "Yes?" Alvaro suddenly realized he didn't want to continue explaining the horror of what his calculations suggested. Besides, he had direct empirical evidence that his calculations were wrong. Along a great-circle path, Porto Santo was only about 5200 kilometers from Princeton. If his calculations were correct, a massive atmospheric shock wave should have traversed the world, filling the atmosphere with particulates. Yet exactly the opposite had happened. The atmosphere was remarkably clean and pure. Alvaro gazed at his wife in love, noticing for the thousandth time how stunningly beautiful she looked in her pregnant state. Instead of answering her question, he leaned over and kissed her. Three weeks later. Time: Friday, May 28, 2049 8:30 PM, a nighttime stroll "My gosh Alvaro. Look at the stars! Magnificent. I've never seen them this bright." The moon was currently below the horizon, and the stars were countless brilliant diamonds in the sky. By the ample light of the Milky Way, Megan and her husband were taking a peaceful evening walk before bed. It was their last evening in Porto Santo. The last few weeks had been momentous. Foremost on everybody's mind was the continued lack of radio communication with the rest of the world. Madeira followed the world's example and was maintaining strict radio silence. They very much did not want to be the first active site to show up on the globe's passive listening devices. It had been a delightfully cool May since the bubble pop, with frequent sunny days and clean rains blowing in off the trade winds. Both Madeira and Porto Santo were lush with the promise of record crops and the fishing boats were finding rich catches wherever they dropped their nets. In the bounteous times, the government decided it was also a good time to inform its citizens of the true origins of its power. In the end, they realized they had no choice. The dark event required a full explanation. Repair and conversion work was continuing on their largest dark-power systems. Top priority was to get Discovery operational again. The ship and the three top generators were all scheduled for activation on June 1st, and the jet would be operational a week later. The corvette transport Discovery was also been returned to its full battle configuration of military frigate. The military helipad had been restored to the stern area of the ship. A fishing boat was being converted to act as a dedicated ferry between the two inhabited islands. But with the source of Madeira's power revealed, it was also no longer necessary to hide the island's ability to use their unlimited power to make hydrogen from seawater. Alvaro and Megan and six other people were scheduled to depart Porto Santo harbor at 8 AM Saturday morning. The 78 km military boat trip to Funchal harbor would take less than two hours. Megan took a deep breath. "And I can't get over how beautiful the air smells. It's been this way ever since the bubble event. Other people agree with me. Did the near-death experience change us that much?" "No, it's a real effect. Madeira University has just started doing some atmospheric analysis. Full results will be out in about a week. Preliminary data are showing the bubble knocked out a phenomenal amount of particulates from the air." He took a deep breath. "You're right, it does smell really nice." Hand in hand, Alvaro and his pregnant wife strolled home to bed. ------- Chapter 12: The Age of Discovery One week later. Time: Friday, June 4, 2049 10:30 AM, 30 km due east of Santa Cruz de la Palma Discovery left its home port of Funchal just before midnight and spent the next ten hours cruising southward at a leisurely pace of twenty-six knots, four knots below its rated speed and almost twenty knots below its true maximum speed. Discovery represented Madeira's very first attempt to explore outside of Golem's bubble radius. The ship was maintaining radio silence, and after ten hours of sailing had come to a dead stop thirty km from the eastern shore of the capital of the Canary Islands. The ship was running clean, using just a small fraction of its 1 GW dark generator to drive the ship's propellers. Estevao stared quietly out the front windows on the ship's bridge. The capital of the Canary Islands was still below the horizon, but the high mountains of Tenerife were clearly visible to the north of the city. Estevao wore two hats on Discovery. He was a lead scientist with the Department of Energy, and thus was in charge of the ship's dark energy drive. He was also a lieutenant in the Madeiran Navy and third in command aboard the Discovery. Estevao was also one of Captain Mendez's closest friends. The captain turned away from the displays the ship's high precision optical scanners were feeding to the bridge. "Fine day for some fishing, don't you think Estevao?" "Beautiful day captain." Estevao gestured to the south. "Some of the dolphins are still with us. And the whales this morning! Who would have thought it possible? The ocean is bursting with life." The captain nodded her head. "Yes, a fine day for fishing. And yet the good citizens of Santa Cruz seem to disagree with us lieutenant." "Yes captain. It appears they do." The ocean around them was devoid of any type of human craft save their own. Their orders for this scenario were to hold their position for one hour and then proceed west with Discovery to Santa Cruz at sixteen knots, which would have them sail directly into their neighbor's number-one harbor just after noon time. It was a new experience for them all, sailing without GPS. Discovery did have its own internal sets of gyroscopes for navigation, but they could not compete with the sub-meter precision of the military GPS signals the U.S. military had secretly given Madeira access to. Estevao gazed westward and wondered what could have happened to the Canary Islands, Madeira's closest ally. Could pirates have overrun the islands? It didn't seem possible that the Canary Islands would have maintained radio silence in a war of annihilation. And yet the ocean around them was completely free of another human presence, and the entire RF spectrum remained filled with simple white noise. At 11:03 AM, Discovery powered up its dark engines and began sailing due east at 16 knots. Estevao knew the struggle Captain Mendes was facing. She was sailing a highly deadly warship right up to her neighbor's front door without announcing her intentions. No, Estevao thought, an even better analogy would be not ringing the front doorbell of a neighbor and just walking into their child's bedroom with a gun. A deep frown formed on Estevao's face as they closed to within 20 km of the capital. The city could now be devastated by Discovery's numerous short-range surface-to-surface missiles, and was coming into range of the ship's 57 mm Bofor's gun which could fire 220 high explosives or armor piercing rounds per minute. How could the Canary Islands' military let Discovery do this unchallenged?! Forty minutes later... The frigate was at dead stop a mere 400 meters from the coastline, holding its position rock steady with a slight touch of dark force. Except for a few terse statements commanding the ship, no words had been spoken on the bridge for the last few minutes. Discovery had a crew complement of 225, and almost all the men and women by now had had a chance to gaze at the island and contemplate the meaning of what they were seeing. Captain Mendes finally broke the silence, talking to sensor operations deep below the bridge. "Ensign Faria, launch bluebirds, one flock, standard scan, cover everything within ten kilometers, as much as you can. Be sure to cover the airport location." "Acknowledged Captain," replied a woman's voice, who repeated the order and a moment later added, "Twelve bluebirds away. Visual telemetry is available on channels 50 through 61, infrared on channels 86 through 97. Full recording in progress." Estevao walked to the captain's side and together they stared at the shoreline. "Laurissilva," Estevao whispered in Portuguese. He spoke the word for Laurel forest, a unique subtropical humid forest dating back to the Tertiary Period. The forests once occupied vast areas of southern Europe and the Mediterranean basin before advancing glaciers caused their almost total extinction. Until this morning, Estevao thought the Madeira had the most extensive and well conserved Laurel forest of the world. But no longer. Before him lay a vast Laurel forest, lush and pristine, and its size dwarfed what was preserved at Madeira. The forest was stunning in its beauty, and through his binoculars and the displays from the bluebirds, Estevao could see a great predominance of trees belonging to the Laurel family, vast stands of Bay, Fetid, and Canary Laurel. The displays were also showing trees that looked exactly like Madeira Mahogany, and there were other delights, Lily-of-the-valley trees and rare Madeira Cheesewoods and Holly. Rare on the Madeira preserve perhaps, but here they were present in abundance. And in addition to the trees, the displays were also showing great varieties of bushes, ferns, mosses, lichens and liverworts. As the bluebirds flew in low for detailed examination, Estevao's heart began to ache from the beauty. Captain Mendes pointed to a screen and commented, "That particular display is where the airport was... or should I say will be?" Estevao nodded slowly and whispered, "What a privilege to see the Earth like this. So stunning, it's difficult to talk..." "Yes." The captain's eyes were moist. "I feel it too. Can you see why I decided to break radio silence with bluebird telemetry?" Estevao nodded again. "Of course. There is nothing here to detect it. Look at the shore captain! The rocks, the old growth of the forests, everything is pristine! Look at the rocks! There has never been a harbor here. Never! Everything is completely untouched! I was expecting the city, or perhaps devastation, but this?!" "Yes indeed. If the bluebirds continue to show only virgin forest, I'll break long-range radio silence shortly and contact Madeira. What do you think Estevao, the past or the far future?" "This looks so pure, so completely unspoiled, my instincts are saying the past, but... My God captain, we were so sure time travel did not happen! The astronomical measurements are overwhelming that today is June 4, 2049. Every observation confirms it!" "Yes, I know. I was at the Observatory myself, the evening after we popped the bubble. Tell me Estevao, how did we know the access codes to get into Einstein lunar station?" Estevao gave a small laugh. "We got the codes from the big man himself!" Captain Mendes rolled her eyes. "Oh? Is Dr. Lopes a cryptographer too? Is there nothing the man can't do?" "It does appear that way sometime, doesn't it? But in this case, there's a simple explanation. The lunar station was the very last scientific package NASA launched, back in the 2020's. Its principal mission was to study the fine structure of the gravitational permittivity of free space, to study the detailed gravitational interaction between the Earth and the moon. The measurements are related to Alvaro's doctoral work. He was given access codes to the station while he was at Princeton." The captain nodded and returned to watching the bluebird displays. Shortly afterwards she ordered her communications officer to open a channel to Madeira. An hour later Estevao opened his own channel to Alvaro Lopes. "I'm assuming you've seen the videos?" Alvaro answered. "Yes. Your information was very timely. The government was just deciding to contact you. We got results this morning from the air analysis the University was doing. Background carbon dioxide was measured at 270 ppm." Estevao shook his head and then laughed. "How did we miss this Alvaro?!" "I don't know. Before today, all of our data were confirming the year as 2049. The position of the planets and stars, all the details of the earth's and lunar orbits, the signals from the lunar station. We had maximum western elongation with Venus just a week ago on May 24 at 1:41 PM local time, right on schedule. Estevao, I'm telling you, the solar system is in the year 2049." "But the Earth is not!" "How can you say that? Madeira is part of Earth, and it's 2049 here..." Alvaro suddenly looked very thoughtful. "My God Estevao. I just thought of something. The Princeton resonance didn't just pop G1 and G2. It must have caused a cascade failure exploding up to our outer bubbles, each bubble pop being pulled to the next top bubble by the dark pressure." "Yes, we suspected that. And?" "But what if Newton held? There were no bubbles beyond Newton, nothing to weaken it from the outside. Perhaps that's where the resonance stopped." "A self-organizing bubble? We weren't driving it once Newton's generator fused." "Yes, I know. I still think it's possible. Think of the dynamics Estevao. We had a naked singularity in spacetime, a tear unshielded by a gravitational horizon. The local entropy flow through the top sphere must have been unimaginable." "Why do you say that?" "Because spacetime was trying to repair itself. It would need isolation, no entanglements and no information flow to the outside. Newton from the outside would appear to be a perfect black body, able to absorb anything." Estevao thought for a moment. "It's a frightening thought, a surface equivalent of absolute zero with infinite heat capacity." "Yes. Try to imagine the entropy flow such a surface would cause with the solar wind." Estevao thought for a moment and replied, "And you think that entropy flow would support a self-organizing bubble phenomenon?" He paused. "Yes, I see, it's possible. So everything outside Newton and inside Golem tracked in normal time. But the spacetime between the two spherical surfaces..." "Yes, it drifted from the original universe, pulled by the backscatter of the dark pressure. It exchanged with another n-D spacetime surface on the multiverse polytope." "And only the reality shielded by Golem avoided the trip... My God Alvaro... How far back?" Estevao asked in a whisper. "There's no going back to our own Earth, is there?" "No, none at all. It's the random quantum tumblers of the multiverse. The odds of going back are zero." Alvaro sighed. "Or perhaps I should say one divided by infinity." "How far back?" Estevao asked again. "I don't know, but the birds and mammals on the telemetry from Tenerife look completely modern. And the island was exactly where we expected it to be. Discovery just completed its triangulation with Madeira and Porto Santo about ten minutes ago with precision radio pulses. Have you seen the results?" "Yes. No discernable shift in Tenerife's expected position." "If it had drifted even a few meters, Discovery would have detected the difference." "Yes, I agree. We appear not to have traveled geological distances in time." "And our climate Estevao! It's temperate, a little cooler than what we're used to but definitely not an ice age." "I see your point Alvaro. This might be the Holocene, within 10,000 years of our present." "Which means we have company Estevao! We should fly the jet over the Fertile Crescent as soon as possible." "My God! The ancient cities, alive today..." he whispered. And then a shocked look came to his face. "My God Alvaro! We will seem like gods to them!" ------- Chapter 13: Sins of the Children Eight days later. Time: Saturday, June 12, 2049 5:50 AM Universal Madeiran Time The car trip from their Funchal condo to the energy labs was completely uneventful. Megan did the driving and let Alvaro close his eyes and get a bit of rest. He had come home just five hours before, after a series of short phone calls saying he would be late. And now after four hours of exhausted sleep, he was heading right back to the labs. This was the third day in a row he was doing this. So Megan offered to drive him to work and she quietly walked with him to his office, hoping that he wouldn't dismiss her. He had been so kind and attentive earlier in the week as Megan entered the last month of her pregnancy, petting her feet, combing her hair, always asking if she desired anything. And then there were these last three nights, such a contrast, a few simple kisses after coming home after midnight and going straight into bed. As they walked into Alvaro's office, Megan noticed a close friend of theirs sitting by the consoles around Alvaro's desk. Alvaro was the first to speak. "Lieutenant Rocha, you are relieved." "Funny Alvaro, funny," Estevao replied. "You know, you should join the military someday. I think you'd like it." "Oh, I don't know. Megan's been looking into the possibility, perhaps in a year or so when the baby's a bit older." "Really?" Estevao turned to Megan and smiled. "Try the navy. It's the best!" Megan gave a return smile. "From all your stories, it's first on my list." Estevao nodded and turned back to Alvaro. "Do you think I have time for a shower before the festivities start?" "Sure, take your time. Nothing's scheduled for the next hour. I'll page you if something unexpected comes up. Has Discovery reached its holding position?" "Yes, just a few minutes ago." Estevao then bid them goodbye and left. Alvaro sat down at his desk, opening a few communications channels and checking in with some of the other senior lab members. Then he leaned back and sighed. He looked over to his wife and seemed mildly surprised she was still there. He gave her a kind smile. Megan gestured to the room with her arm. "Green badge area." Her comment was a plea to tell her what was going on. Alvaro nodded and after a moment hit the mute button on his console. "But this is classified as need-to-know only. It's not my decision. You'll have to leave before the conference begins. Hey, wait a minute." He unmuted his phone. "Renato, you still there?" A warm laugh responded. "Surely you jest. I'm here by myself though. The committee members haven't arrived yet." "Perfect. Renato, Megan is here with me now. I'd like to grant her need-to-know status. Do you concur?" "Oh, absolutely. I officially concur. Megan's insight might prove invaluable. Good morning Megan. Alvaro, that's all you need, right?" Alvaro started typing on his computer. "Yes, the two of us combined have the authority... Just click accept on the approval request I sent you... Great. Thanks. Renato, I'm going to mute and fill Megan in. Flash me if you need me or the meeting starts early." And after getting an acknowledgement, Alvaro muted the phone again. Megan gave her husband a grateful smile. "Thank you, much appreciated." Alvaro nodded and got right to business. "Three days ago Renato came into my office with some calculations. Life hasn't been the same since." Megan tilted her head slightly. "So I've noticed. Good news or bad?" "Yeah. I'm not sure how to answer that. Renato has a model for how Golem's bubble worked. It's an extremely elegant piece of mathematics, and it fits all the details of our observations." "Okay." Alvaro yawned and stretched. "The breakthrough came Wednesday morning when Renato realized Golem's bubble needed to work as a dipole. Once you make that assumption about the topology, everything else falls into place... Almost." Megan stared at her husband. "You've completely lost me." "Inside Newton's bubble there had to be two smaller bubbles. Think of the pair of bubbles as a temporal dipole. Renato modeled Golem as having a polarity oriented towards the north pole of time." "The what?" Alvaro sighed. "The Big Bang is sometimes called the north pole of time, the past all the way back to the beginning of time. That was Golem's orientation, not for the inside of its bubble but for what was outside. Golem's was focusing the backscatter of the dark energy into a net pull back in time." "Uh, yeah, okay. So what would the people outside the bubble be observing?" "According to Renato's model, their experience was similar to ours but on a global scale. Newton was just above geosynchronous orbit height on the opposite side of the planet. Earth probably still had their worldwide communications up. They were in total darkness for forty hours, just like us." "Until we popped Golem?" "Yes, which would have popped Golem's twin, the southern pole of the dipole. That was part of Renato's conclusions. You can't have a temporal monopole. And without an internal dipole, Newton must also pop. Think of it as a rubber band being stretched for forty hours, and then snapping back when we popped Golem. The Earth around us came here to the universe of 2049 A.D., and our future Earth snapped back to the universe of whenever." "Any clues yet how far back?" "The government wants to take things slowly. Judging by the brief exploration we did at the Canary Islands, almost certainly before colonial times, before the 1500's. In the two thousand years before that, the islands were probably visited by the Phoenicians, the Romans and the Arabs. We didn't see evidence of them, but we only searched one small part of Tenerife, around where the capital should have been." Megan nodded. "I saw Discovery leave port Wednesday evening. Was it heading back to the Canaries?" Alvaro shook his head. "No. For the last two and a half days, it was traveling flank speed to North America. It just got to a holding position a few minutes ago, fifty kilometers due south of Block Island..." "Huh?" "... and about 260 kilometers from where we think southern pole of the temporal dipole was." Megan was silent for a second and then whispered, "Princeton, New Jersey. My gosh. Does southern temporal dipole mean the future?" "Well, sort of... No, scratch that. Megan, the past exists. It has a tangible physical reality. The future does not. It's completely unformed." "What?" "I mean undetermined. I agree with Renato's mathematics, but we're contending what the mathematics means in physical reality. Renato thinks a ninety kilometer radius around the Princeton dark energy site might be in the far future. But that violates some of the core axioms of singularity mechanics. The only way to get to the future is at the slow pace of one second per second, in whatever your local frame of reference is. Moving forward faster should be absolutely impossible." "But Renato disagrees with you?" Alvaro gave a thin smile. "Well, only for the moment. We need to prepare ourselves for a nice dinner as the guests of Dr. Costa and his wife when all this is over." Megan smiled. "Sounds like fun. You're that confident, huh? I mean, I wouldn't mind doing the cooking on this one." "Oh, I'm sure. The universe just can't work the way Renato is suggesting." Megan nodded. "So Discovery will be exploring New Jersey?" "No, probably not, not unless the Bombardier jet finds something unusual. The bluebirds just don't have the range to reach Princeton from the Atlantic, and Congress didn't want to risk the mission to a helicopter. Discovery is there as a backup. The jet will do the reconnaissance of ground zero, and if nothing is found Discovery will make a brief scan of Long Island and the New Jersey shoreline and then return to Madeira." Alvaro looked at a clock. "The jet departed Madeira hours ago and is scheduled to be over Princeton just after dawn." "Okay. And when's that?" "Princeton sunrise today will be at 8:27 AM Madeira time, two hours from now. Local sunset will be about a half hour before midnight." "Wait a minute. Wasn't the jet going to be unavailable because of the floor modifications?" "Oh, that'll only take a few weeks. That work's been postponed." He paused for a moment. "You might remember the two pilots. I believe Xanti and Cintia are on this flight." Megan nodded just as a light flashed on Alvaro's console. Congressional committee members were joining Renato at the capital building in Funchal. Alvaro announced Megan's presence and there where no objections. Estevao Rocha returned a few minutes later looking very refreshed. They all sat and waited for the jet to report. Time: Saturday, June 12, 2049 7:30 AM UMT, fifty km south of Block Island, coordinates 40 degrees 42 minutes North, 71 degrees 36 minutes West Xanti hovered 200 meters above Discovery, communicating with Captain Mendes below through a laser and briefing her with the last two and a half days of events. The jet and Discovery were both equipped with short wave radio and could contact Madeira directly at any time, but were under orders to maintain radio silence until the Princeton issue was resolved. At 7:30 AM UMT Xanti and Cintia accelerated the plane to 257 kph, expecting to be over their target at 8:30 AM. The sun was still eight degrees below the horizon and the moon had set about two hours previously. The ocean below was lit only by starlight as they began their run, but the sun would soon overtake them on their slow west southwest course to New Jersey. Cintia gazed at the dark horizon for a moment and then commented. "I hope we don't fly into a tree. I sure do miss GPS." Xanti chuckled. "Yeah. Once we pass over Sandy Hook though, the terrain recognition software should be able to map our position to within a few meters." He studied his instruments for a moment. "We should be exactly on course, entering the mainland over what will be Leonardo New Jersey at 8:19 AM, eleven minutes and forty-seven kilometers from target." Cintia nodded. "You think Dr. Lopes is correct then? All we'll see are trees, nothing from the thirtieth century or beyond?" "I've never known the man to be wrong, once he says he's sure of something." Cintia nodded. "I'm betting on Alvaro too. Literally, with a sailor aboard Discovery." "Oh? How much?" "Oh, nothing major, a hundred Milreis. Xanti?" "Yeah?" "We have a lot of discretion, what altitude we take this." "I know. You want something higher?" Cintia shrugged. "This low, we'd have no time to restart the jet engines if we lose dark power. And at 257 kph, we don't have quite enough speed for that either." Xanti almost made a quick retort, but then stopped himself. "The dark power is so reliable, I wasn't even thinking about the jet engines. But you're right. It's a long way from home." He thought for a moment. "Maximum terrain elevation on our path to Princeton should be about thirty meters, and we should have good predawn visibility by the time we reach Leonardo. How about if we continue to detect no RF and see a virgin landscape at the shore, we do the final leg at 2000 meters?" Cintia let out a sigh of relief. "Sounds great. I hate low-level flying. There's no chance to respond to a problem." Fifty kilometers from Sandy Hook, Xanti and Cintia began to see the New Jersey shoreline on the western horizon. About twelve minutes later they flew low over Sandy Hook, seeing nothing but a wild sandy coastline covered in dunes in the predawn twilight. The meadows beyond looked pristine and wild too. Xanti began his climb to 2000 meters. "My gosh, look!" exclaimed Cintia pointing. Near the shore there was a small community of people. Everyone visible was looking at the jet in such an absolute shock that it was obvious even from a height of 300 meters. "Delaware Indians," said Xanti. "They fit our briefing profiles perfectly. I'm going to approach Princeton at high altitude, climb to 15000 meters and increase speed to 500 kph." Cintia nodded and reminded Xanti, "Mission plan states we maintain radio silence until target scans are complete." "Agreed. Wow, what a beautiful sight Cintia! I hope we didn't frighten them too badly." Cintia nodded. "Yes. Did you see how small their community was? What would you guess? Thirty adults?" "Yes, thirty to forty adults. That fits our mission briefing too, that the Delaware lived in small communities made up mostly of extended family members. Did you see the animal skins being dried?" "Yes! What a privilege Xanti, so see the Earth like this." "Yes, and what a responsibility, to see it's not destroyed again." "I agree completely. This is big news! The Delaware were thought to colonize New Jersey about 10,000 years ago. Look at the climate below. The land is a delight! This is definitely the Holocene!" "Yes, I agree. Any guesses to the exact time? We have a range from 8000 B.C. to 1500 A.D." Cintia smiled. "Yeah. Pre-Columbian is almost a sure bet. But how much further back before 1500? Have any thoughts?" Xanti sighed and thought. "Not really. I heard a rumor Lieutenant Estevao Rocha had an idea about exactly how far back but he's not talking about it publicly, at least not yet. I guess we'll find out soon enough." A few minutes later the jet was hovering above the future site of Princeton, New Jersey at 15000 meters. At that altitude, the jet established a direct line-of-sight laser lock with Discovery 257 km away and reported their findings. They then spent the next ten minutes descending to 1000 meters and taking high-resolution pictures with two wing cameras of the exact spot where the Princeton dark generator was calculated to have been. Neither pilot saw anything at all that looked like a distinguishing mark. Returning to high altitude, they announced to the world their findings and then headed home at their maximum cruising speed. Three weeks later. Time: Saturday, July 3, 2049 10:15 PM Megan was waiting for Alvaro in their Funchal condo, listening to some classical music and trying to relax. A few days ago her daughter-to-be had dropped low into her pelvis and was now pointing down head first to the birth canal, perfectly positioned for delivery anytime Megan's body wanted to start the birthing. But so far Megan's body seemed content to hang onto the child. Except for some lower back pain that she found easy to ignore, Megan decided she had rather enjoyed her pregnancy. But the anticipation of holding and nursing and cuddling with her daughter had been building week by week, and she was now eager for the pregnancy to end. Except for the brief three-day period, Alvaro had been a faithful husband throughout June, pampering his wife so completely she would often blush from it. But today was another one of those times when his work called him away. He and a large number of other scientists were working at the University image processing labs. Megan didn't mind. She had a cell phone and neighbors. Any trouble at all and Megan would be at the nearby University Medical in minutes, with Alvaro joining her there. And the reason for his absence now? Yesterday was the second time Madeira had attempted to do long-range reconnaissance with the Bombardier jet. They had done a high fly-by over Thebes Egypt and the Valley of the Kings. The cargo bay area of the jet had undergone substantial modifications in mid June. It now had a transparent acrylic floor and very powerful near-infrared lasers and precision downward scanning imaging equipment. From a height of almost 16,000 meters, the jet could hover silently at night and make extremely fine scans at wavelengths slightly longer than visible with the human eye. Alvaro joked they could almost read a book from 16 km away. They actually were able to read hieroglyphics. The jet had taken off yesterday afternoon and flew a great circle route to Thebes, flying below the southern coast of the Mediterranean on its way to Egypt. At a maximum cruising speed of 935 kph, the trip would take slightly more than five hours in each direction. The jet had the power to fly faster but not the body design. The increased friction and turbulence near sound speed would make the jet too hot. The problem that Madeira had to solve was how to keep the jet from being seen during its long trip. The sighting of the jet by the Delaware Indians had created a strong desire to prevent future occurrences. They were close to the summer solstice, and there was little more than ten hours of time between sunset and sunrise at their latitude. Nature provided the answer. A large storm moved in on Wednesday and Thursday, and the west trade winds blew the storm over what would one day become Morocco and Algeria in their old timeline. On Friday afternoon, the jet flew more than a thousand kilometers over Africa above the thick clouds, and did more than two hours of recordings over a clear nighttime Thebes and the nearby Nile River Valley. Then it returned and was back over the cloudy Atlantic a safe half hour before dawn. The images had been analyzed now for the last twelve hours. Alvaro knocked once and then came in quietly, closing the door behind him. Megan gave him a beaming smile and then saw his face. "Alvaro! You look terrible! What happened? Are you okay?" He gave her a weak smile and sat down heavily on the couch. "Oh, I'm fine. Just a really awful day. Everything okay with you?" "Me? Yeah, sure. Alvaro, what happened? You look as if you've seen a ghost!" He nodded. "Not a bad analogy. More like the Grim Reaper..." He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, sinking into the plush couch. Megan came and sat beside him. "How were the observations from the jet?" she asked quietly as she petted and kissed him. She felt tense muscles in his shoulders and neck and started to massage them. "Very revealing. The government won't try to hide anything. There will be some major announcements, probably Monday, maybe tomorrow." He took a deep breath and petted the hands that were massaging him. "Ah, that feels really nice. Thank you." Megan kissed her husband. "Can we talk about the jet now?" He sighed again. "I think so. The information was never officially classified. We know our time, we have confirmation to the exact year." "Excellent! So Estevao's original guess was correct?" "Yes. Golem's bubble was telling us how fast we were drifting back in time. The 46 second cycle was the twist of the Earth's orbit around the sun. That's what created the major torsional cycle." Megan nodded with her memory of their earlier conversations. "The Earth was traveling back in time a year every 46 seconds, and the minor torsional cycle at eight Hertz, those were the days, weren't they?" "Yes. End result? In just about forty hours of subjective time, we think Earth went back 3,155 years." Megan gave a soft sigh and thought. "That would be... 1106 BC?" "1107 BC. Remember there's no year zero. You go directly from 1 AD to 1 BC." "Ah. And you found confirming evidence in Egypt?" "Yes. We're near the end of the 20th Dynasty. According to the history books, Ramses the Tenth ruled from 1111 BC to 1107 BC. We think we recorded his funeral live..." Alvaro was quiet for a second and then whispered, "and a whole bunch of others..." "How do you know it was him?" "The current state of the tomb layout in Thebes, what's built and what's not built and what's under construction. Everything lines up perfectly." "So, Ramses the Tenth died right on schedule, huh?" A tear came to Alvaro's eye. "No..." "Huh? What do you mean, no?" Alvaro collected himself and then spoke. "Well, first off, there is no schedule. People here have free will Megan, just as we do." "Well, yeah. Okay." "Remember what the butterfly effect is?" "Sure. A butterfly decides to flap its wings one extra time or maybe not, and six months later the world's major weather patterns are all different depending on the butterfly's decision." Alvaro nodded. "Forget about quantum tumblers and consciousness for a moment. Even with just classical physics, the butterfly effect is in full force with us popping into this timeline. It's been close to two months now with a different Earth tilt and different tidal cycles, compared to our old timeline and what the values would have been at this time." "Different tidal cycles?" "We didn't synch with the old phase of the moon. An observer here would have seen the moon jump back a quarter cycle as this version of Earth popped into the solar system of 2049." "My gosh. I wonder what the native people thought of that." Alvaro nodded and sighed. "Yeah. I guess they would think of it as an act of the gods. Anyway, as the local weather began to change from our original timeline, different roads were slippery at different times, different people were having accidents, different people were meeting people, which might later cause them to marry different people in this timeline. You get the idea?" "My gosh yes. No Archimedes, no... My gosh Alvaro, all our historical figures will disappear from this timeline, won't they?" "Absolutely. They'll never be born. And it happened much sooner than you might think, probably within minutes of our getting here, Maybe people will still marry and make love to the same people they did in our old timeline for a while. But what are the odds they'll couple and the man ejaculate in precisely the same time and way so that the same sperm reaches the egg? I'm guessing in the last two months, almost no one was conceived with the same genetic code they got in our timeline. Our old timeline, I mean. This is our timeline now." Megan was silent for a moment. "The changes happened that fast?" "Think of quantum entanglement. All the old links were cut. Suddenly the Earth of 1107 BC began interfacing with the universe of 2049 A.D. Reality would start diverging instantly. And consciousness is an incomputable, self-organizing process. Free will reigns supreme. People started having new original thoughts and making diverging decisions the instant we got here." Megan considered what he was saying. "So, okay, human history will be different with different people, but Earth's history will be the same, the geology I mean." Alvaro took a moment to kiss Megan. "Hmm? What do you mean?" "You know, the 79 AD eruption of Vesuvius, the eruption of Krakatau in... uh, what year was that?" "Uh, late 1800's, maybe 1883..." Alvaro thought for a moment about her larger question. "It's difficult to say how closely Earth will reproduce its geological events. It's interacting with a solar system with 2049 AD positions for the moon and the planets. And Earth's tilt and precession are at 2049 AD values. Earth's tilt right now is 23.45 degrees, rather than about 23.7 degrees in the original 1107 BC. Is that enough to make a difference? Shift geo forces and flows around and make eruptions happen a few years earlier or later, or maybe in a different location? I don't know. Maybe." Megan nodded. "I understand. And yet Ramses the Tenth died on schedule." She paused and looked confused. "You said... Or did you say he didn't die?" Alvaro grimaced. "Oh, he died all right. There's a plague occurring in Egypt now, a massive one from the looks of it." Megan's eyes went wide. "My gosh! One of the biblical plagues?" "No, something even more frightening. The jet captain had a hunch what was happening. He made an unauthorized landing on the return trip, following a local thunderstorm down to the ground and made a vertical landing in a vacant part of the Algerian desert. Actually, I think it's grassland now, vast stretches of wild wheats and grasses. They cracked open the door, got an air sample." Megan stared at her husband. "There's no question. The Medical Center confirmed the samples this afternoon. It's the Satan Bug, the A strain." A long moment of silence passed, and then Megan let out a slow, sad sigh. "The sins of the children," she said softly, "visited upon the fathers... So, what are we going to do?" Alvaro sighed back heavily. "Nothing." Megan blinked and whispered back, "Nothing? What do you mean nothing? We're responsible." And then more loudly, "You can't be serious! We have to do something!" "Do what Megan? There was never a cure for the disease, not even an effective course of treatment." "Alvaro!" she yelled, and then wailed softly, "I'm responsible!" Alvaro suddenly realized the depth of Megan's distress. "No Megan, no you're not, not any more than I am for discovering dark energy." She sighed heavily. "I... Oh, I don't know what to think. But we have to do something." "Megan, think. Did you ever hear of anyone being able to alter the course of that disease?" After a long moment of silence, Megan whispered, "No." "And the plague spares no one. No one escapes infection. The only salvation is that it's is a one time affair. Newborns inherit the acquired immunity of their mothers. There were no recorded cases after 2037. And the life-form itself is self-replicating, even without a human host. It can't be contained. Letting it run its course is the only solution." "Like hell! We're responsible, our timeline is anyway! Can't we at least warn them?" Alvaro shook his head. "Think they'd listen to gods from the sky preaching about death? And even if they would, what could we tell them? It would be like the Spanish Conquistadors walking up close to the Native Americans and warning them about smallpox." Alvaro stroked his wife's head in great tenderness. "Our genes Megan are the genes of survivors, honed by the next thirty centuries of crowded, urban living. Think of smallpox, the killer influenza of 1918, the black plague of 1348, the great bird-flu pandemic of 2028, the militarized versions of anthrax and whooping cough and SARS in the 2030's. We start globe-hopping now; these poor people are going to get hit with a dozen different plagues all at once." "Well... Wait! What about the Satan B-strain? It's far less lethal. Do we have a sample?" Alvaro nodded. "We do. This very issue was discussed intensely over the last few hours." Megan grimaced in her frustration. "But we can fly the jet around the world, spread the B strain as fast as we can. Survivors of the B strain are immune to the A strain. We could save millions!" Megan saw Alvaro staring at her sadly. "Alvaro, why not? Are people that afraid of the jet being seen? Are they so phobic about it that they'd rather be murderers through their inaction?" "It's not that simple dear wife. First of all, we're not prepared to culture the plague. We just haven't got the experience for this type of work. The A strain will probably have a global presence long before we could begin to combat it. But even then, the issues are so terrible and profound. I agree with the decision to do nothing." Megan stared at him. "Tell me?" He nodded. "The world's population now... We're guessing it was slightly below fifty million before the plague hit. That's our baseline estimate from the history books." "All right." "Think of the year 1107 BC. People live young, have lots of children young, and then they die young. Do you remember that the B strain is twice as lethal to children as the A strain?" Megan's eyes went wide and she tried to speak but couldn't for a moment. "That much?" "Not quite with our population age profiles, but these people have so many young children, yeah, we think..." Alvaro gave a weak shrug, a look of great sorrow on his face. "You see the horror, don't you? Our best guess is that the world's population is fifty million, maybe a bit less. But at least half these people are under twenty years of age, and maybe a lot more. There are very few old people in this age, relatively few people in the A strain's most lethal range." "But Alvaro! The A strain still has to be more lethal overall!" "Oh, it will be. We estimate nine million people will die from it now, compared to three million from a B strain plague." "And the government doesn't want to save six million people?!" "We couldn't do it in time, even if we wanted to. But there's another issue. The government doesn't want to play God, and neither do I! Megan, the B strain is more lethal with children. Perhaps 650,000 children will die with the A strain. With a B strain plague, the number would be 1.3 million." "But with their parents dead from the A strain, won't more children die from that?" "Secondary effects? Sure. But how can we play God Megan? How can we do something that will directly kill an additional 650,000 children? Mortality is four times greater with the B strain for children under five, 4% versus 1%. Could you fly a plane and release the B strain version of the plague? Release a bug that directly kills 4% of all the young children, when only 1% would die otherwise?" A long moment of silence followed. "No, I couldn't," Megan whispered. She started to cry. Alvaro hugged her and cried with her. "Oh, the monsters! The bastards!" Megan wailed. "God damn the monsters who created the Satan Bug! How could they do it?! How could anyone ever hate so much?! How can anyone love such senseless death?!" Alvaro held her and petted her for a moment, and then said quietly, "I don't think your question has an answer, nothing we could understand... Megan? Do you know about the plague? I saw some analysis of the life-form while I was in the States." Megan sniffled and blew her nose. "I don't know what you're talking about. See what?" "The B strain; it's a random mutation of the A strain." "Yes, I know that." Another sniffle. "But the A strain itself is thought to be a mutation, from something that the medical folks called A-prime." Alvaro looked into Megan's eyes and saw only puzzlement. "Tel Aviv was so devastated the word didn't get out fully, and then their war with Syria and Iran started. The Israelis tried to hide how severely they had been hit. In Tel Aviv, A-prime took out 99% of the population, newborns to geriatrics." Megan stared at him in horror. "I'm not sure why the world's governments never made this public. There is a genetic code built into the life-form. The Satan Bug was designed to self-destruct within a few weeks after its release. And the A-prime version did. No samples of it were ever found. Its kill zone was localized to Tel Aviv. But the damn bug mutated, first to the A strain and then to the B. You can still see the self-destruct trigger in the mutations, if you know how to look, but it's inactive now." "So it'll be with us forever?" "Well, once the population survives the initial outbreak, the life-form is benign. And the researchers weren't too impressed with its ability to replicate outside the human body. Without a human host, both strains decay faster than they replicate. Eventually the Satan Bug will truly be gone, but it might take a hundred years, maybe more." "Call it seven generations," Megan whispered in reply. She made a gesture with her head, beckoning Alvaro to their bedroom. They undressed and petted each other into uneasy sleep. Five hours later, Megan woke with a gasp and her hands went to her womb. She was having a strong contraction. ------- Chapter 14: Pre Contact Four years later. Time: Friday, July 4, 2053 5:03 AM (circa 1103 BC), home at Porto Santo Megan's eyes opened as the first golden rays of the new day lit the bedroom. Her husband was still asleep beside her and the house was quiet, which meant that Kelsey also was still asleep. Megan smiled at the memory of decorating the house last night with her daughter. The four-year-old's birthday party would be later this afternoon. "My daughter is a true American," Megan thought with a grin. "Maybe she's never been there, but she was born on the Fourth of July." She smiled again. "Someday I'll show her how beautiful the West Coast is. And maybe we'll go hiking in the Grand Canyon... Yeah..." For the last four years, Megan and Alvaro had been on a seasonal rotation, migrating on the first of the month after the solstice and equinox days. They were spending summers and winters at Porto Santo, and springs and autumns at Madeira. They had now been on Porto Santo for three days... They wondered in the beginning how Kelsey would adjust to all the moves, but now Megan was convinced the schedule was exactly the right decision. Kelsey was growing up with two very diverse sets of experiences and was at home with both the simple farm setting of Porto Santo and the fast, high-tech pace of urban Funchal. Perhaps when Kelsey was ready to start primary school in another two years, they would pick a different schedule, but for now Megan couldn't think of a better or richer way to raise her child. Megan sighed and took a moment to reflect on her life and her country. Madeira had chosen to remain completely isolated from the rest of the world these last four years. There was high confidence that they had so far succeeded. The new Earth was now orbited by thirty sophisticated low-orbit weather and observation satellites, twenty-seven high-orbit GPS satellites, and six master communications satellites in geosynchronous orbit which were in turn controlled from the Madeiran highlands. New observation satellites were being launched monthly, and so far the rest of the world seemed completely unaware of their presence. The installation of the satellite network was helped immensely in the autumn of 2049 when the Energy Department's team of researchers finished converting their maximum dark-energy bubble from 163 ms to 326 ms. They built a new dark generator called Topcat, and it was the heart of their single manned space vehicle. With a dark-energy radius over 97 million km, Topcat could lift a total weight of 1690 tons. It could also launch satellites into geosynchronous orbit over any part of the Earth, either by direct placement over the Atlantic area or by slinging the satellite at perigee into a simple transfer orbit and having the satellite do an apogee burn above the desired destination point of the Earth. Topcat had a dream engine for a space vehicle. It could generate 16.6 mega-Newtons of thrust without the use of reaction mass, sailing the heavens forever on the pulling winds of the universal dark energy. Madeira University had detailed plans for using the shuttle to accelerate probes that would land on the moon and return to high Earth orbit where their lunar rock samples could be retrieved. There were other plans to send probes to the other planets and to launch a massive orbiting telescope that would dwarf anything ever envisioned in their previous timeline. But for now all these ideas were frozen at the design stage, pushed aside by the immediate needs of the society. Life was not without struggles. The absolute lack of trading partners exposed all the small flaws in their old efforts to become independent. There were long lists of missing products that needed workarounds, and some of the solutions were only marginally satisfactory. What was passing as toilet paper was the butt of many jokes, and one of Madeira's most enduring problems was the lack of raw textiles for new clothing. It had just been so easy to trade with the West African Union for such low-tech staples. They were also no longer trading for wheat, growing it instead as a winter crop. The abundant sea was providing a plentiful diet of fish, but the desire for more farmland had pushed Madeira to colonizing the Azores hundreds of years before their history texts speculated the islands were discovered by Carthaginian sailors. Madeira's population was slowly and steadily increasing, and had topped 125,000 by the end of 2052. This was in sad contrast to the rest of the world. From extensive analysis of satellite images and mathematical modeling, Madeira's population estimate for the planet (including themselves) was currently 31 million, down from 34 million just after the plague and 49 million before the plague. Madeira was getting worldwide detailed observations from Coke and the orbiting satellites. The A-strain Satan Bug appeared to have affected the world's population even more severely than Madeira had feared, especially with the children. The global impact appeared similar to the Black Death in the worst regions of Europe, where the bubonic plague killed a third of the population. Madeira's best estimate was that the world's population would stabilize near current levels, and then barring new calamities rise to a new equilibrium of at most 34 million over the next fifty years, provided that another out-of-time plague wasn't released. It had been an extremely challenging four years for the society, first to accept their situation and then to decide on their priorities. The government had semi-collapsed and reformed several times. Madeira's absolute first priority was to safeguard their critical technologies from accidental or even wanton destruction. Any lost technical ability could no longer be reestablished through trading. Laws were passed that all critical hardware had to be backed up in the high mountains of Madeira, lest they be lost through a calamity at Funchal. People worried about a possible tsunami, and the threat was not zero. They were living in the modern solar system of the 2050's and had no historical data for when or where the next meteor would hit. Driven both by the safety of geographic diversity and the need for more farmland, the Madeirans were planning settlements on all nine of the largest islands of the Azores. They already had a pilot colony of two thousand settlers on the closest island of Santa Maria and expeditions on several others. The nation of Madeira now had twenty integrated dark power / matter conversion units ranging in size from 168 ms to 193 ms. There was one in the Azores at Santa Maria, a second at Porto Santo, and the rest at the main island of Madeira. Their power output was scaled back to still meet Madeira's self-imposed limit of all dark generators combined staying below the 1% threshold of the background fluctuations of the universal dark energy density. Madeira now had an almost unlimited supply of all stable isotopes. Supported by the new generators, the society was in the fourth year of an ambitious five-year plan to build the Alvise Cadamosto shipyard and foundry, complete with a dry dock large enough to hold Discovery. The complex was designed to become the nation's primary center for all heavy construction and transportation equipment. The frigate Discovery had its dark radius increased to 280 ms providing twelve mega-Newtons of thrust. The Bombardier jet's generator was 237 ms, and Coke had been separated from its flashlight and given a new dark radius of 120 ms. It was now serving as a unique worldwide surveillance tool. Warrant Officer Megan Lopes was an expert in Coke's operations. Megan cocked her head. She heard the agile patter of young feet on the hardwood floors, and seconds later Kelsey jumped up onto the bed with a joyful laugh and landed on top of her still father. Alvaro gave a sleepy grunt and then hugged his daughter. The new day had begun. Later that evening. Time: July 4, 2053 9:19 PM "Mommy, when's daddy coming home?" Megan smiled as she sat on her daughter's bed and closed the storybook. Megan had let Kelsey stay up an hour past her usual bedtime, partially because it was her birthday but also because Megan knew how much Kelsey looked forward to her bedtime stories with her father. But now it was two hours after sunset and Megan was tucking Kelsey in for the night. "I don't know Kelsey. Do you remember the last time we talked how all people work together?" "The government," yawned Kelsey. "I remember." "That's right. Your daddy has a very important job with the government. Lots of people want to know how he thinks about different things. That's why he sometimes gets called away." Kelsey nodded and yawned again. "Will daddy tuck me in?" "Yes, I'm sure he will." "Even if I'm asleep?" "Yes. Your daddy never breaks a promise." Kelsey nodded and closed her eyes. "I love you mommy, and daddy too." Megan bent down and kissed her child. "And we love you, very, very much. Go to sleep little one." After one last hug and return kiss, Megan went to the living room to read a book and wait for her husband. Alvaro finally came home about an hour later. True to his word, he went to tuck in his daughter before coming back to talk with Megan. "Is she still awake?" Megan asked as she sipped her tea. Alvaro sat on the couch next to her. "No, out like a light. The party really wore her out. I still had to tuck her in though." Megan smiled. "She'll never know." "Sure she will. I position Fluffy in a certain way. Kelsey sleeps more easily once I do. You never noticed?" Alvaro was referring to Kelsey's favorite stuffed animal. Megan shook her head. "No. You'll have to show me sometime. So..." She sighed. "So what was the big emergency?" Alvaro gave a small humph. "Seriously, the military's first thought was to summon you, not me. But the issue isn't immediate, and Captain Mendes didn't want to drag you away from Kelsey's birthday party." "Me? Does Captain Mendes want me to report in? Alvaro, what's going on?" "Just after dawn this morning, three Phoenician round boats sailed through the Straits of Gibraltar and into the Atlantic Ocean." "Ah. Well, we've seen that happen before. An adventurous people, you have to give them that." "Oh yeah. But these three boats are not like the others. They're not hugging the African coastline. We had another satellite flyby pick them up mid afternoon. They're sailing a course almost due west. They traveled over fifty kilometers in less than ten hours." Megan raised her eyebrows. "They did that with just oars? They're not sailing against the trade winds, are they?" "As a matter of fact, they are. Either they lucked out or were waiting for the right conditions to sail. There's an easterly wind blowing right now around the Straits, a bit unusual." "Ah... That's interesting." As Alvaro's hand came up to pet her, Megan took a moment to reflect on Madeira's adventuresome neighbors. The destruction of the Minoan civilization around 1400 BC and the decline of the Egyptian empire had left the Mediterranean open to newcomers, and the Phoenicians were an emerging power in the region. Madeira's observations had shown that the New Kingdom period in Egypt was ending earlier than it had in the original timeline. The man who would have become Ramses the Eleventh appeared to have died in the same plague that killed Ramses the Tenth, and tomb robbing was now prevalent throughout Thebes. Two years ago Egypt appeared to have lost all control of Nubia, and deprived of Nubian gold, the Egyptian empire was rapidly falling apart and its navy was in ruins. The Phoenicians now were by far the best established and most experienced sailors in the area. Madeira saw the chance meeting with one of their trading vessels as a real possibility. The issue had resulted in a defining moment for both the government of Madeira and the society itself. The desire for isolation was deep, and it would be an easy feat from a technical standpoint to sink any primitive vessel approaching Madeira or the Azores and either kill the crew outright or abandon them on some remote island in the Pacific Ocean. Many hundreds of years of perfect isolation would be assured. Detailed observations of the Canary Islands to the south had revealed several small bands of primitive people living in the Neolithic Stone Age, but the newly colonized Azores Islands a thousand kilometers to the northwest and Bermuda 4400 km to the east were pristine. Over the next hundred years, they could provide ample empty room for Madeira to grow an empire. Alvaro and Megan had dived into the political fray, championing the opposition against Madeira becoming an isolated high-tech fortress. Before them was a priceless opportunity to spare the Earth the millennia of wars and exploitation that the planet had suffered in the old timeline. The great Greek experiment in democracy at Athens started in 510 BC, in a world very similar to the current one. Could Madeira jumpstart the process, save Greece from its centuries of dark times and create the cradle of democracy 600 years earlier? Could Madeirans use their technology to guide the world to a better future? The current government was committed to exploring the possibility. The social obstacles before them were immense. The world's superstitions and brutality, the worldwide acceptance of slavery and male gender domination of women, the total lack of a scientific foundation for understanding how the universe worked, there were so many incredible hurdles to overcome. Alvaro had run for Congress and was currently Porto Santo's representative in the hundred-member legislature. Megan negotiated a military commission and joined the Madeiran Navy. She was on active duty during her time at Madeira and in the reserves while at Porto Santo where she still held her position as lead veterinarian. At Madeira, she trained as a communications specialist, working both with the military and the government to prepare for Madeira's first contact with the people of ancient Earth. And she also became an expert at flying birds, one bird in particular named Coke. Megan sighed and came out of her thoughts, taking Alvaro's hand from her breast and kissing it. "First contact... It's so amazing to think of it. Imagine. Heading out to the deep Atlantic with just a single square sail and oars. No GPS, no radio, no power except the fickle winds and the strength of your own arms. Such courage!" "Yeah. Amazing stuff Megan. And you can only use the wind to push you where's it's blowing, otherwise it's pure oar power. The triangular sail is so much better. It acts like a turbine blade in the air, lets you tack into the wind." She nodded at him and laughed. "Alvaro, I know! I joined the Navy, remember?" She kissed him and then asked, "But I don't know everything. Sometimes you seem to. Can you tell me when the lateen sail was invented?" "Oh, there's a bunch of different theories. In our timeline, many people believed it was a Moorish invention, but perhaps the Moors copied it from traders in the Indian Ocean. There's even an image from ancient Egypt, sixth dynasty, 2350 BC or so, with something that looks like a boat with a triangular sail. From everything we've seen so far though, the only boats in the world right now with lateen sails are some of our own fishing boats." Megan leaned back and thought for a moment. "Think there's a chance these three boats will find us?" Alvaro nodded. "Yeah, there's a chance. We looked at some weather projections. There might be a storm north of here in four or five days. It might blow them in this direction." Megan took a deep breath. "Wow. Our first contact. I know people have theorized that the ancient Phoenicians might have landed on Madeira, but the history books didn't think it happened this early." "Oh, who knows what happened in our old timeline Megan. And we've been moving on different paths ever since we got here. Remember, there's no schedule for when things will happen." "Yes, I remember." She laughed. "We've joked about this before! The Phoenicians discover the lost empire of Atlantis, only this time for real! Have you seen any odds about whether they'll find us?" "It's hard to say. We don't know their motivations. If they intend to search this general area, they'll probably find us. If they're just passing through to another destination, probably not. But the military wants you to report to Discovery tomorrow morning. The ship will stop at Porto Santo and pick us up." "Us?" Alvaro nodded. "Congress will be in continuous session until this gets resolved. Kelsey is going to learn what summer in Funchal is like." "Oh, she'll be so disappointed. Nothing compares to summer here at the beach.' "Well, she'll get to ride on Discovery tomorrow. I'm sure she'll like that." Alvaro took a deep breath. "If first contact looks likely, I'll try to join you on Discovery the day before as a Congressional observer. Kelsey can stay with my cousin's family." "Yeah, okay. She'll love that, as long as it's not for too long." Alvaro nodded. "Think you'll be comfortable speaking the Canaanite language?" Megan was quiet for a moment. "I guess. I've been eavesdropping on it for three years now with Coke. So many mistakes we made, my grandmother and I, guessing how to speak it." She paused for another moment. "I'll do the best I can if they actually land here. Are we still going with Plan-A for first contact?" "Yep, shock and awe. It's not what I would have picked, but at least we won the heart of the negotiation. We can offer them trade if they respond favorably. The State Department will want to do a full review with you tomorrow." Megan gave a small frown as she thought about Porto Santo. "We just got here three days ago ago. I had a lot of things scheduled." Alvaro shrugged. "People will understand. Military reservists get called up all the time. And everybody knows you're our number-one resident expert for communicating with these people." Megan raised her eyebrows playfully. "What Megan? It's true! Think of all your training!" "Well, I guess. It just feels so different to think of myself as an ambassador. I know I have the training. I just hope I don't disappoint." "You took the tests. It wasn't just your language abilities. You had top scores in negotiation. That's a very complex skill. Madeira has a lot of confidence in you, Madam Ambassador." Megan thought about saying something cute in return, but wound up getting into a kissing session instead. And then the kissing turning to petting, gentle and playful at first, so smooth that Megan didn't realize she was sexually aroused until she heard herself panting. She leaned over and bit Alvaro's ear, clamping her teeth down on the soft lobe, not hard enough to hurt but enough to show her desire. Her hand also gave him a sharp pinch on his nipple. Alvaro understood her well. The hand that had been caressing her thigh drifted up to the downy softness of her pubis under her nightshirt, Alvaro's fingers gliding in the soft curls, caressing her, seeking her, opening her. Megan arched her back as a finger began to stroke across her open labia, up and down from anus to clit. Her body felt an electric shock as the fingertip stopped for a moment just above her vaginal entrance and poked her firmly on the slit of her urethra. "Alvaro!" she hissed in mock shock. "What the hell are you doing?!" "I'm like the Phoenicians," he whispered back. "I'm exploring..." "Oh yeah?" she giggled. "Well, some places are best left alone. Explore somewhere else!" Megan groaned as Alvaro obeyed her command. His fingertip pushed down, rubbing across the super-sensitive urethra slit and sliding deeply into her vagina. Meanwhile his thumb was pushing up, penetrating her upper folds and wiggling under her clitoral hood. Megan's hips jerked forward automatically. And then she gasped as his fingers withdrew. She whispered in a hiss, "You better not leave me like this! I need to be fucked! Now!" Alvaro gave her a very playful smile and hissed back. "I can't wait either! Lie down and lift up your nightshirt. I'll take you from the rear!" Not waiting for her to comply, his hand slid up her bare thigh and gripped the flesh of her rump. Megan squirmed and whispered as she started to be lifted by her buttock. "What?! Here on the couch?!" "Sure! Why not?" His other hand grabbed her calf above the ankle and he started to turn her forcibly into his desired position for coitus. "Kelsey's why not! Oh you men, such idiots!" She pulled away and managed to stand up, her butt cheek popping from his grasp. Laughing quietly with each other, they trotted off to their bedroom, locking the door behind them. ------- Chapter 15: Show Time Sixteen days later... Time: Sunday, July 20, 2053 3:44 AM, aboard M.N.S. Discovery Warrant Officer Megan Lopes left the ship's bridge and walked down to the small cabin she and Alvaro were sharing. He was asleep on their cot, already dressed for the day, and Megan decided to leave the lights off for a moment. She sat on the edge and gently petted his head, stroking his temple with her fingers. Alvaro sighed and opened his eyes. "Show time already?" Megan nodded her head. "Just about. It's an hour and a half before sunrise. We have a little time. I thought I'd give you an update. Target has just closed to within ten kilometers of Funchal, rowing due north at 2.5 knots. Captain Mendes thinks they've lined up the North Star with the peak of Pico Ruivo and that's how they're steering. Coke is keeping a very close eye on them. If they keep this up, they'll land directly at the city around 6 AM." Alvaro nodded. "Nice of them to row exactly where we want them to be." "Yes. Captain Mendes says she won't move in until the very end, not unless they change course. We'll probably move in at daybreak. That way we won't have to tow them as far." Alvaro nodded and stretched, sitting up in bed. "How's Madeira doing with the blackout?" "Okay I think. There's no indication the Phoenicians suspect anything." Megan sighed. "It's a beautiful night on deck. A moonless night, clear skies, almost no wind, dry air, the typical doldrums of the horse latitudes. It's really very pleasant." Alvaro nodded and held her gently by her side. "Think you're ready?" Megan paused for a second and then nodded. "I feel as if I've spent my life preparing for this moment." They shared a kiss and then headed to the ship's galley for a quick breakfast. An hour later. Time: July 20, 2053 4:52 AM Hannibal stood forward near the stem post of Asherim's Offer, the flag ship of his three-vessel trading fleet. Slightly behind and two hundred cubits to either side were the ships Profit and Toil, captained by Hannibal's younger cousins Devarim and Edom. Hannibal smiled in the pre-dawn light. After two days and nights of seeing only the mountain peak, the island's coastline was now clearly visible. Finally! Hannibal judged its distance to be at most eleven thousand cubits. They should make landfall within the hour. He squinted for a moment in the dim predawn twilight and offered a quick prayer to Shahar, god of the dawn. Were his eyes deceiving him? For a moment, he thought he had seen the coastline saturated with great geometric shapes, as if the long coastline were densely covered with impossibly large buildings. But no buildings could be that large, and then a thin veil of predawn mist moved in and covered the view. No matter. The air felt so dry, Hannibal was sure the sun would burn off the mist as soon as Shahar let it rise in the east. Hannibal shook his head and smiled and decided to wait a few minutes for the dawn god to hear his prayer and grant him a better view. He looked to the east past Devarim's boat and to the yellowish and pink horizon. A bit of stormy weather coming up, perhaps by the time the god of the dusk Shalim arrived, there would be a fierce storm. Hannibal wondered if they would find a good harbor at the island before them, or would they be safer off riding out the storm at sea. He began to pray again as he considered his options. As his eyes idly watched the eastern glow, his mind drifted back four years ago, to the terrible wrath of Resheph. The god had been furious, causing the sun goddess Shapash to stumble on her path, and to this very day she had still not found her old track. Hannibal's people did not have a scientific understanding of the summer solstice, but from their interactions with the Egyptians and Hyksos, they were excellent stargazers. They knew that Shapash was still lost, forgetting to make her northernmost walk across the sky at Falcon, a constellation that would one day be called Cancer. No, Shapash was still lost, starting the summer from the Sleeping Bull, a constellation that would one day be called Taurus. Hannibal turned to the figurehead on his ship and caressed his protector Asherim, the Canaanite goddess of sensuality. The carving was head to toe and very lifelike, even arousing. More than once during the long voyages of his life, Hannibal had overheard crew members and even the slaves whisper about petting the statue's shapely feet and breasts and then mounting her naked form. Hannibal didn't mind. Asherim had amply rewarded his devotion through the years, and Hannibal thought the sensuous goddess welcomed the lust of his crew. He took a moment to glance at his cousins on the other two boats. Devarim was off his starboard side and Edom off his port to the west. They had both been reluctant to follow him out of the inland sea, and for good reasons. The monsters that swallowed boats here were frighteningly real. This was truly the region of Yamm, god of the deep sea and judge of the dead. His divine displeasure could force Hannibal to sail off the edge of the ocean into oblivion. But Hannibal thought the rewards were worth the risks. His nose was smelling profit. A year ago they were exploring south, down the wild coast past the Pillars of Hercules. His cousins had just convinced him to turn back when Hannibal noticed the faintest of a smell coming off the westerly ocean wind. His cousins vowed they could sense nothing, but Hannibal was sure it was the smell of people, a lot of them. It was the smell of profit. A year ago they were not equipped to sail out into the great expanse. But they were now, and sensual Asherim had protected them once again. The crew had been drinking fish blood for the last two days, stretching their last reserves of fresh water. There was a large clay amphora lashed to the prow stem post near where Hannibal stood, and it was now almost completely dry. Unknown to the crew, there was less than one full cup of drinkable water on the boat. But with the gods' benevolence they'd be landing within the hour, and Hannibal was optimistic that plentiful fresh water would soon be available. Whether the natives would welcome traders was another question entirely, but Hannibal wasn't too worried. His three ships were a formidable fighting force of forty-eight men. At sea, each crew was comprised of a captain, a helmsman for the tiller, and fourteen rowers, seven on each side, mostly freemen but also a few slaves. And when pressed, the crew could transform into a small army. Each boat carried two of the six compound bows that Hannibal's father had traded from the Asiatic Hyksos. With a large cache of balanced arrows with hard, razor sharp arrowheads of bronze and the new iron of the Greeks, Hannibal thought his boats almost invincible against attacks from savages. And if the arrows weren't enough, he and his two cousins each had the fine bronze swords of the Egyptians. And the rest of the crew were all skilled fighters with axe, mace, and sling, even the slaves. No, Hannibal wasn't too worried about being attacked. His chief concern was whether the island before him was inhabited, and if so whether the people would want to trade. He had high hopes. Even simple savages would often produce novel goods or exotic foodstuffs that would fetch a good price at his home port of Sidon, and if not Sidon Tyre. Hannibal's three round boats were packed with a large assortment of trade goods, everything from trinkets to large clay pots of dry wheat to their prize cargo on the flagship, linens beautifully colored with purple dyes from the crushed shells of sea snails. Hannibal's eyes fixed on one of the compound bows as he reminisced. It was securely mounted within easy reach of one of the lead rowers, a slave Hannibal considered perhaps the finest archer he had ever met. And the bow... it was five years ago. Hannibal remembered the trip well. His father had been captain of the Asherim's Offer then, Hannibal's uncle captain of the Profit, and young Hannibal promoted from helmsman and in command for the first time, captain of the Toil. His uncle's two sons were helmsmen, Edom serving on Hannibal's ship. Those were good times. It was five long years ago, one year before the terrible rage of Resheph, the god of illnesses and plagues. It was a rage so awful that Hannibal's father cried that surely terrible times were ahead. And he was right. Resheph was so angry even Shapash the sun goddess, Astarte the goddess of the heavens and Yarikh the moon god all shook and trembled before Resheph's wrath. The stars of heaven shifted, and Yarikh jumped back from his second phase to his first in a single night. Young Hannibal had once been quietly skeptical regarding some of his father's beliefs, but no longer. He had seen the gods tremble before the power of Resheph with his own eyes, and it was only a moon's cycle later that the fury of Resheph was loose upon the lands, just as his father predicted. His dear father and uncle, such fine men... It was just a few minutes before dawn. The wave of Edom's arms on the Toil finally caught Hannibal's attention, pulling him out of his daydream. His cousin was yelling and gesturing wildly and pointing west down the shoreline. The mist was lifting like a veil, and Hannibal looked past Edom's boat to see what Edom was so excited about. Time: 5:08 AM Aboard the M.N.S. Discovery... Eight minutes before the break of dawn, Captain Mendes ordered an intercept course for Discovery with the Phoenician traders. She had been lurking ten kilometers distant and close to shore against the dark coastline, confident her conning tower would remain unnoticed in the pre-dawn light. Coke was doing a fine job of pinpointing her target from an altitude of 2500 meters. Designed in the shape of a very large and lifelike eagle, Coke had the ability to select its surface colors, and could dynamically adapt to the changing black and grayness of the nighttime sky. With its propulsive drive of two mega-Newtons of noiseless dark force, the bird was silent and damn near invisible when it wanted to be. With the aid of her propellers and twelve mega-Newtons of dark force, Discovery accelerated to forty knots in ten seconds. Captain Mendes could have pushed the ship even faster but did not want to create a bow wave and wake too violent for the small Phoenician boats to handle. Incredibly, the three boats were still rowing peacefully to Funchal less than five kilometers away. Captain Mendes did a quick visual scan through Coke and realized a bit of morning mist was giving the Phoenicians a very hazy view of the city. Perfect... Coke reborn as a bird was the most amazing reconnaissance device Captain Mendes could ever hope to image. With direct telemetry links to the geosynchronous satellites, it could be sent anywhere in the world. At 340 kg, the bird was not light, but its maneuverability was limited not by force availability but by the needs not to overheat from friction with the air or damage its circuitry with excessive acceleration. Once outside the atmosphere, Coke could change its hover position from any point on the globe to any other point on the globe in less than ten minutes. Time: 5:15 AM Aboard Asherim's Offer... Hannibal's jaw dropped as he saw the mountain of metal flying down the coastline. He was speechless. A mountain of metal! He couldn't even give the order to stop rowing. In a frantic attempt to keep his sanity and save his men, his mind gave up trying to understand what the mountain was or how it was flying across the surface of the water. His one thought was whether the mountain was going to collide with them. After several heartbeats, he decided the flying mountain would clear their bow by perhaps a thousand cubits. Asherim be praised! But wait?! Could this mountain be a ship?! Hannibal had seen the great Egyptian barges, the largest a hundred cubits in length. This was at least three times longer, and yet... Yes! Not a mountain, a ship, a ship that could fly across the surface of the water like a bird! So fast! Time: 5:16 AM Aboard M.N.S. Discovery... With all ship's personnel secured for battle maneuvering, Captain Mendes executed a preprogrammed maneuver, cutting power to the propellers and using all available dark power to brake and pivot the ship. In the span of just nine seconds, she slowed Discovery from forty knots to dead stop, pivoting the ship so that its bow was now pointed directly at the Phoenicians less than 500 meters away. Aboard the Phoenician vessels... Forty-eight jaws were gaping at the maneuver the monster ship had just executed. A gigantic wave from its braking could be seen rolling to the east. The oarsmen frantically turned their boats to head into the lesser wake that was heading towards them. Fortunately the deep ocean was swallowing much of the wave's power. And from all directions came loud rumbles of power, like nothing the men had every experienced. They look around wildly, and saw boats their size flying in the water all around them. Incredibly, they appeared to be dancing with each other! There was no other word to describe it. Aboard M.N.S. Discovery... Dawn broke at that moment, the tip of the sun shining at an azimuth of 65 degrees on the horizon. Discovery's twelve patrol boats put on a high-speed show for their visitors, circling the ships in a tightly choreographed manner and then forming two lines of six boats each. The two lines then sliced through each other at high speed, the boats interleaving and missing each other by a fraction of a second with only ten-meter separations. The maneuver was possible because all the boats were under computer control of the Discovery, being guided in course and speed to a precision that human pilots couldn't match. After their demo, the boats fanned out and reformed their circle around the Phoenicians, cutting power and holding their positions just as Topcat, Coke, and the Bombardier Global Merchant descended from the sky. Aboard Asherim's Offer... Hannibal had never been so dumbfounded in his life. A part of his mind was screaming at him that his men would be looking to him for leadership, but he found it impossible to talk at all, let alone say something intelligent. His ears were vaguely hearing the moans of his men, and he couldn't decide whether his own voice was a part of the sound. The twelve smaller boats of magic metal were arrayed in a perfectly ordered circle around him, Hannibal guessed about 400 cubits distant. Men on the boats were clearly discernable. Hannibal couldn't decide if these men were the crews or the prisoners of these magical boats. The boats had performed beyond what would be capable for human sailors. His experience as a sailor was also screaming at him of the danger. The mountainous ship before him did not have the proportions of a barge, despite its monstrous size. Hannibal's eyes saw the thin ratio of beam to length. This was no trader! His mind was screaming warship! And in the air! "And why not?!" Hannibal thought hysterically. Two more gigantic gods, posing as birds with great fixed wings and the size of metal mountains. The greater was to the east directly over Profit, the lesser to the west above Toil. Hannibal waved at his two cousins to bring their boats closer to the flagship. If they were all going to die, he thought his men would prefer dying together than dying alone. Hannibal took another look at the two gods above them as Profit and Toil were rowed to his boat. He guessed the gods' height at perhaps a thousand cubits, floating in the air with no concern at all for the welcoming attraction of their mother Earth. And as his cousins pulled alongside, a third divine bird appeared. It descended from the sky and began to hover just off the bow of his own ship. This one was large but not impossibly large, hovering just below the height of his ship's mast and less than twenty cubits forward the stem post. It could easily be hit with an arrow, but Hannibal had no intention of ordering such sacrilege. The bird was so strange, gracefully flapping its wings far too slowly to fly, and yet it did not fall. And then Hannibal and his men gasped as it started to change colors, yellows to blues to greens to shimmering purples and reds and then to a shimmering rainbow. So beautiful, the different feathers all different colors. Feathers? Hannibal looked closely. In silohette perhaps, but up close the skin looked smooth. And then the bird began to speak. Hannibal laughed without control. Aboard the M.N.S. Discovery and Asherim's Offer... "We seek peace. We seek friendship. We seek trade." Megan spoke slowly and carefully into the microphones. She was in an acoustically isolated control room deep within Discovery's midsection, a myriad of controls for Coke at her fingertips, including controls for powerful lasers that could ignite the Phoenician boats in seconds. Megan was completely familiar with the equipment before her. No one on Madeira had logged more time at this console, or its identical twins at Madeira and Porto Santo. Self adjusting wing-mounted cameras were giving her a very detailed and stable binocular view of the boat in front of Coke. She studied the man before her struggling to keep a grip on his sanity. He reminded her a bit of Alvaro with his boyish good looks. But while her husband was tall and broad shouldered, Hannibal was thin and wiry and Megan guessed about 15 cm shorter than her own height. She felt a wave of pity for how confused the man looked. From Coke's nighttime reconnaissance over the last two weeks, she knew the man's name and the names of a number of the others. Trusting her judgment, she made a snap decision to use the leader's name. "Hannibal, you need to stop laughing. We have much to discuss." The man looked as if he had swallowed a live squid, and it was attempting to crawl back out of his stomach. Then he knelt next to the stem post of his boat and began to make rhythmic bows with his arms outstretched. Megan grimaced as she realized what he was doing. "No. Please Hannibal. It's your choice, but please don't worship me." The kindness in her voice finally broke through his fear and hysteria. Hannibal paused and stared at the bird, his mind finally returning to rational thoughts. In silence, he thought furiously. "What did the bird goddess say earlier? She wants our friendship? She wants to trade with us?! Trade with a goddess?! What a concept!" Hannibal took several deep breaths and tried to clear his mind. "Well, why not?!" He worked hard to find his voice and keep this fantastic conversation going. "Oh great goddess, may a mortal ask, what is your name?" "My name is Megan Lopes, and I want to give you a promise." Hannibal blinked. The name sounded like no goddess he had ever heard of, but the reality before him could not be denied. And did he just hear her correctly? Did the goddess offer to promise him something without asking for something in return? This was very un-goddess-like behavior. "Yes?" he whispered. "I will never lie to you Hannibal, never. Hannibal, I am not a goddess." His mouth twitched. "A demon?" "What? No! I am human, a woman." Hannibal grimaced, all his faint hope fleeing his mind in an instant. The magical apparition before him was clearly no woman. There was only one explanation. This was indeed a demon, and it was taunting him before the slaughter. Was there anything at all that he could do? To make a pitiful military stand against the demon's might would be pointless, even as a token gesture. It was probably what the demon was hoping for, to play with them as a fox plays with a helpless mouse before lunch. Hannibal would give the demon no such pleasure. But it wasn't his style to meekly submit to death either. In memory and honor of his father, Hannibal would make his stand in words. "You don't look like a woman," he said derisively, catching the demon in her obvious lie and broken promise. He took a deep breath and looked death in the eye. The bird's magical eyes sparkled back. "No, indeed not," said the bird. "I am able to speak to you through his bird. I am human and aboard the very big ship directly in front of you. The ship's name is Discovery. My name is Megan Lopes. The bird's name is Coke." Hannibal humphed. "Coke?" he thought. "What a strange name. And the mountain of metal has a name? Well, it's a ship. Why not?" Megan had used modern English for her name and Coke, but the Canaanite word for discovery. Hannibal stood deep in thought and was surprised to find a spark of admiration there. "Discovery," he thought, "what a strange name for a ship, but... I like it." He shook his head as if to clear it. Toil and Profit pulled up along side, staying off his port and starboard sides just far enough so that the oarsmen wouldn't interfere with each other. Hannibal looked at Edom. Edom just shrugged back, as if to say, "What now?" Edom's younger brother Devarim aboard Profit looked in worse shape. The man was barely keeping his hysterics under control. Hannibal looked over the crews. They were a young crew and looked on-the-edge, but he thought they would still follow him if he gave an order. Hannibal frowned to himself. Of course they were young! So many of the experienced hands had died three years ago from the wrath of Resheph. Hannibal turned back to the magical bird before him. And he saw beyond. What a fantastic city, three dimensional, buildings rising straight into the air and defying the attraction of mother Earth just as the magical birds around him did. For Hannibal to resist such divine power would be absurd. And yet, resist what? What was there to resist? The goddess... The woman? The voice from the magical bird had made no demands on them. Were they prisoners? The magical bird spoke of peace and friendship, even trade. Were they free to leave then? So strange. Hannibal smiled as he thought of Edom's shrug. "What now?" Hannibal thought. "Yes, good question Edom." He looked up at the bird. It had spoken last, and was waiting patiently for Hannibal to continue. It was still flapping its wings far too slowly and still not falling. And Hannibal suddenly saw the bird's patience as insightful. No god nor goddess nor demon would wait patiently for a man to speak. Their infinite egos would make such politeness impossible. Godlike power without the ego to match. How was this possible? Again, Edom's question came to him. Well, why not put the question to the bird? Hannibal looked directly into the sparkling eyes and said simply, "What next?" The bird spoke at once. "You are all free to leave. If you wish to visit the city before you, there will be conditions." Hannibal nodded. "Only fair," he thought. He gave the thought of leaving a long moment of consideration, but the pull of his curiosity was too strong. And look! Again the bird was politely waiting for Hannibal to respond. Hannibal began to think he just might survive the day yet. Perhaps it was time to reveal a bit of weakness to the bird, and test how it would respond. "Leaving would be difficult," he said out loud. "We are low on drinking water. If we choose to leave this area, may we land on some other part of the island, just long enough to fill our pots?" "No, and I will explain the reason." Megan probed the clay amphora lashed to their stem post with a burst of ultra-sound and studied the results. Then she flew to the two other boats and did the same. Coke flew back to Hannibal. "You are not just low. Your three boats have less than two cups of water among you." Hannibal heard some of his own crew grumble over the revelation. "Ah. You have divine vision then, to see inside our pots?" "Close," replied the bird. "I could hear that the pots are empty." Hannibal could hear the warm smile behind the voice. In spite of himself, his gut reaction was telling him to trust this Megan Lopes. But such an attitude would go against all of Hannibal's training. Gods and goddesses would back-stab any mortal would dared to trust them. Gods demanded worship and sacrifice for their favors, not trust. And yet, didn't Megan Lopes ask not to be worshiped? This was so incredibly strange... The bird spoke up. "I could bring you fresh water now, if you wish." It paused for a moment and added, "No charge." Hannibal stared at the bird in confusion. Coinage was an unknown concept in his world, and Megan had incorrectly used the word for a charging animal. "What?" he whispered. "I can bring you water, as much as you want." Hannibal eyed the bird warily. "What must we do?" "Huh? Nothing. It's a gift. Just take it." Hannibal blinked. This was extremely un-godlike behavior. But every single man on the three boats had a dry throat, and Hannibal knew it. "Yes, please. Thank you Megan Lopes." The bird nodded calmly in reply, and then zipped away so fast Hannibal gasped in astonishment. So fast, like a lightning bolt from Baal, ruler of the universe. Faster than the fastest arrow in an instant, and there had been no bow to launch the bird. Hannibal saw it hovering above the mountain ship named Discovery a few heartbeats later, and then it was gone. It reappeared a few moments later, returning swiftly but at a speed that was comprehensible. Its two clawed feet were tightly wrapped around a metal rod, and below the rod hung a great bucket that dwarfed the Phoenician water pots. The bird hovered very close, its bucket just above the stem post. From the bucket descended a long flexible hose, as clear as water and amazingly bendable. "Give me something to fill," commanded the bird. Hannibal took the boat's common drinking pitcher from its storage position near the clay amphora and held the end of the hose over it. A second later, a large burst filled the pitcher to overflowing, the clear liquid washing Hannibal's hand and arm. He brought the pitcher to his lips and tasted. It was delicious and refreshing, sweet water remarkably clear of impurities. Hannibal handed the rest of the pitcher to an oarsman and then took the lid off the large amphora that held his ship's water. Within the next few minutes, all three boats were fully supplied. As the bird flew back to Discovery, Hannibal turned to his two cousins and asked their opinion of what he should do. It was his decision to make, and they knew it. Still, their opinions were valuable. They both advised they return to Sidon immediately if the gods would allow them to go. Trading with these divine beings seemed unimaginable. Hannibal himself felt torn by the decision. Trading with gods was indeed a laughable concept. Could this be a trap? He asked the bird when it returned, "Will these boats really obey you and let us go if we want to leave?" "It's not a question of obeying me," replied the bird. "Think of us as a military navy Hannibal, because that's what we are, a navy that will let you go." The bird paused. "Do you want a demonstration?" Hannibal blinked and laughed nervously. "Of what?" "Stand by," said the bird. "Stand by what?" he whispered. Did the bird want him to stand by something, the stem post? But that was where he was now. But then in a burst of insight, Hannibal got the idea of what the bird meant. It wanted him to wait while the bird did something. A moment later the six boats in the semicircle to their south moved off with their incredible flying speed and joined the northern half of the circle. It seemed that when these magical boats wanted to go somewhere, they just flew across the surface without need of sails or oars. "And what if they wanted to go all the way to Sidon?" thought Hannibal. Even with the very best of weather and navigation, the 5000 km journey would take Hannibal several months. How long would the journey take these magic boats? Hannibal realized he would be spending the rest of his life asking himself such questions if he simply sailed away now. And could he ever find this magical island again? The fear of the lost opportunity became greater than anything else. Hannibal made his decision. "If you will permit us Megan Lopes, we will land." The bird bowed its neck in a sign of respect. "That is the decision we were hoping for. I will explain the conditions. If they are unacceptable, you are still free to go." Hannibal nodded. "There is a danger you will become ill if you land here. We think we can protect you from illness, but it will take a month to do so. We will keep you in isolation. Only afterwards will it be safe for you to meet with us and return to Canaan." Hannibal felt a deep chill in his bones. "The plagues of Resheph?" "Yes. Perhaps nothing as deadly as four years ago, but yes, deadly plagues. The risk is small but not..." Megan paused as she realized there was no Canaanite word for what she wanted to say. The concept of a zero digit hadn't been invented yet in this timeline. But she was sure Hannibal got the idea. "We still want to land," replied Hannibal. "We have an understanding then? Once you land, you will not be allowed to leave. I will act as ambassador for my people. You will meet me briefly soon after you land. I will begin protecting all of you immediately. That involves pushing small amounts of medicine into all your bodies, your arms, with very fine needles. I will do this three times, once every two weeks starting now. There is no pain, just a mild prick." "And this will protect us?" "It should. There is no certainty. The human body is so wondrous, there is no certainty. You and I will still be able to talk to each other, but only through... something like Coke. After five weeks I will come and visit you one last time, and after that you may go." Hannibal blinked. "Such a strange attitude for a god to have," he thought silently. "Your terms are acceptable," he said out loud. "We still wish to land. What should we do?" Hannibal turned briefly to glance at his crew. He thought he saw curiosity in their eyes, and well as fear. Good. They would follow him. Hannibal saw three of the magical boats approaching them. "We will tow you to a safe harbor for your boats. We have prepared a pier for you to live in isolation while we protect you from the plagues. We will provide food and you may also fish from the pier if you wish. We will also help you maintain your boats. I look forward to meeting you all." Hannibal cocked his head in puzzlement, and then realized Megan Lopes meant meeting his crew as a person. For the first time he began to think of her as a human behind the voice of the bird, or at least a goddess who would look like a human. Hannibal wondered if she were pretty. He thought her voice certainly was. The wind started to pick up, the sky had an ominous yellow-gray tinge to it, and the sea began to have a rough, choppy feel to it. Hannibal's experience was telling him a storm was coming, a big one. The goddess Megan Lopez had promised them a safe harbor for his boats, and the offer was looking better and better by the moment. Three magical boats closed to within thirty cubits, and sailors made good throws with strong lines that Hannibal's crews tied to their stem posts. They then began to be towed to shore much faster than they could possibly row. Hannibal stared closely at the sterns of the magical boats. There appeared to be some sort of demon below the water that was madly pushing the water from the sterns, and this made the magical boats jump forward at great speed. Interesting... ------- Chapter 16: Birth of Atlantis Five weeks later. Time: Sunday, August 24, 2053 5:20 AM The buzzing of the intercom by his bed woke Hannibal from a deep sleep. He sat up and yawned and pushed the green icon by the speaker. "Yes?" "Hannibal, it's Edom. Time for breakfast." Another yawn, and a quick look at both the clock on the intercom and the pre-dawn light through the eastern window. It looked like a fine summer day coming up. "Right. Thanks. Be there soon." Hannibal pushed the red icon after hearing an affirmative grunt from Edom. He then turned on an electric light and got up to wash and dress. "How easy it is to live like a god," thought Hannibal as he washed his hair in the hot shower and sweet soaps. "And how easy it is to get used to their magical arts." His eyes blinked at an unsettling thought. Today was the last day of their gentle captivity. How difficult would it be to go back to his non-magical world? Hannibal and his crews had spent the last thirty-five days living in complete isolation at the end of a great stone pier more than three hundred cubits from shore. Along much of the pier's length was a great lodge that was housing his men. The building had ten sleeping areas each holding a separate bath area and five beds. Hannibal and his two cousins were sharing one room, and the rest of the crew filled the other nine. The strange goddess Megan Lopes seemed almost apologetic when she showed the men their temporary home, saying it would be tight living for a while. But to the seamen, the quarters were fabulous. The men were used to sleeping by their positions in their boats. Now each man had his own fine bed and linens and each room had a magical shower and toilet. And there were the magical common areas, two kitchens where an invisible fire made cooking irons glow red hot at the turn of a dial, sweet hot and cold water delivered to magical sinks and baths, a magical place to wash clothes, and of all things, a room filled with puzzles and amusements. The goddess had called it a game room. Imagine! A room reserved for play! What a concept! And except for the slaves, they were all fabulously wealthy, provided one day they made it back to Sidon. Hannibal could even make his slaves wealthy if he wished it. The gods had bought all their trade goods, absolutely everything, and had paid him and his cousins a king's ransom for it, a full kikkar of gold, 3000 shekel weights of pure gold in sixty-eight weighty bars that the goddess Megan Lopes called half-kilo ingots. With such treasure, Hannibal could easily double the fleet to six ships complete with slave crews. Their first day had been so bewildering. Their three boats had been towed and guided into the long U-shaped portion of the pier, and then a great metal door to the sea had closed. Hannibal thought it was a perfect slip for his boats. Tied securely to both sides of the U-shaped pier by both the stem and stern posts, the boats had weathered a major storm their first afternoon here in very easy fashion. Ah, the first morning. The novelty had been overwhelming. The goddess Megan Lopes had shown up as promised but dressed more tightly sealed than a mummy, completely encased in shimmering magical green clothing the goddess called a biohazard garment. Hannibal grinned at the memory of Megan putting root words together in such novel ways as she tried to explain what she was doing. She had not lied about the needles either. Hannibal was a bit fearful of the concept, but the goddess was infinitely gentle with her magic needles, washing the area of the men's arms with a cool liquid that had a sharp, volatile sweet smell. Hannibal thought a mere mosquito bite hurt more. There were two rows of fencing near where their pier met the shore, wondrous cross-linked wires that rose high into the sky. After they had all been injected, the goddess took Hannibal and his two cousins to the small area in between the two fences and showed them that she had brought more than just her needles. There was gold there in four small bronze chests, each one holding seventeen of the precious ingots. It was more gold than Hannibal and his cousins thought they would ever see in their lifetimes, let alone own. They instantly agreed to the bargain the goddess offered, and it took their crews only an hour to unload their trade goods and place them in the area between the two fences. Then the gates on their side of the area were closed, and other men and women came and took their goods away to the magical city called Funchal. The city was great for its size alone. Hannibal estimated over forty thousand people, not quite as big as the great Egyptian cites of Thebes or Memphis before the plague, but not far from it. But the density here! Fantastic! So many people in such a small area, made possible by the gods' fantastic ability to build up in addition to the horizontal directions. In the last four weeks, all the crew including Hannibal had spent many hours enjoying the show of lights and magical boats and horseless carriages of the divine city. They had not seen any of the fishing boats with lateen sails. Madeira had made no decision yet about introducing technology into the world at large. Although the effort was proving somewhat onerous, Madeira's sailing boats were being kept carefully out of sight. It had been a defining transformation over the last five weeks, watching the city and its people-like gods. Surely so many pure gods could not live together in peace. Hannibal was one of the first of his party to decide that what Megan Lopes said was true, that these gods were also people, gods with godlike powers to be sure but somehow living like people. There were even groups of child gods brought by adults to see the Phoenician boats. The adults and children would invariably wave friendly greetings to them during their visits. Such a friendly race of gods. And their generosity did not stop with the gold. The Phoenicians' diet of fish caught off the pier was being kindly supplemented by fresh fruits and vegetables, and once last week with enough lamb meat for all, even the slaves. And they were being given ample materials to repair and maintain their ships. Hannibal had never seen his boats and sails looking this good. Their hosts had given Hannibal superb wood oils that made his ships gleam, and the pitch the Madeirans gave to seal a worrisome crack in Toil's hull was fabulous. The goddess Megan Lopes even taught Hannibal a new phrase for what to call it, marine-grade epoxy. Hannibal smiled at their first weeks here and his crews' struggle to learn the intercom system. It seemed simple enough now, but back then the thought of talking to the wall after entering two-digit codes seemed outlandish. But it all seemed so familiar now, and Hannibal and Edom and sometimes Devarim would have long daily conversations with the goddess Megan through the system. Edom was the one to see the potential and ask Megan if the ships of Madeira could talk to each other through these magical devices, and she replied yes. Hannibal and Edom had stared at each other with wide eyes. The implication for what an incredible boost this could be to a military navy struck them immediately. And Megan Lopes was due here again today at 11 AM, and this fourth time she said she would come without her strange green mummy suit. Hannibal glanced at the clock above the intercom. Such a revelation, how easy it was to order the day around the tiny display of numbers once you understood how to read them. So amazing, to divide the day into so many tiny slices of time. A completely different life, thought Hannibal, and he thought again with a shudder of what a struggle it might be to return to the old ways of his own world. "Ah, no matter," he thought. "The sea calls to us and we must go. And Megan Lopes promised to bring a surprise with her today. I wonder what it will be..." In a cheerful mood, Hannibal headed downstairs to breakfast. Five hours later. Time: 10:45 PM Alvaro stood with Megan and Kelsey in an observation area just beyond the double row of fences separating the Phoenician's pier from the rest of Madeira. He sighed and kissed his wife one last time. "You sure you're completely comfortable with this?" Megan nodded. "Oh yes. We couldn't have asked for a better leader for our first contact, and Hannibal runs a very tight crew. Even his cousins obey him without question. Relax Alvaro, we'll be fine." "Yeah, okay... It's just that..." "Alvaro, think of these people as people because that's what they are, just as smart and just as emotionally capable as you or I. We've gone back three thousand years, not three million. These people are our equals." Alvaro paused for a short moment. "Well, they don't have the same worldview as we do, but I agree with what you're saying. Okay, I'll stop worrying." Megan smiled and kissed his cheeks. "Thanks!" She looked out to the pier. "Perfect day for Kelsey's idea. I heard on the weather report we should reach 29C in downtown Funchal this afternoon. It'll be the warmest August day yet on the new records." Alvaro nodded and smiled. Even without the super clean air, he thought the climate of Madeira was now even more perfect than it was before the temporal jump. Winters were about the same. It hadn't gotten below 4C yet at sea level anywhere on the islands, but the peak summer days had definitely lost their occasional spikes of heat. He wondered briefly if it were due to so much of Morocco being covered by grasslands at this point in history. After another moment, Alvaro picked up a large basket and walked with his wife and daughter to the perimeter fence of the pier. Twenty minutes later... Hannibal took a bite of the strange concoction in his hand, his eyes blinking in delight. "This is so delicious!" he blurted out. He took another bite, and then watched the little girl goddess teach his men how to eat their ice cream cones. He began to lick his cone too. Megan smiled. Getting the cocoa beans for the chocolate ice cream had not been easy. It had been Kelsey's idea, and it took an interesting experiment in remote harvesting to make to happen. Alvaro and some of his research staff wrote new bluebird control code, and then Coke had flown four flocks inside a large airtight transport container to a remote area at the source of the Amazon in the Andean foothills. There the forty-eight bluebirds spent the day harvesting the lime-green and yellow pods of the stubby wild cocoa trees. The mechanical birds would open the pods and fill the transport container with the fatty seeds. Coke was producing hydrogen from a small stream and refueling the birds as needed. By the end of the day, almost three hundred kilos of pure cocoa was harvested, and everything was back home less than twelve hours after leaving Madeira. It was a very successful experiment and the processed cocoa had been eagerly snatched up by the Madeiran citizens. Megan took a moment to admire the round boats as Hannibal ate. "Such beautiful cedar wood," she thought, "Cedrus Libani in the old timeline. I wonder if the Roman nomenclature will ever catch on here?" Her eyes traveled up to the mast and sail. "Tell me Hannibal," asked Megan out loud as she pointed with her hand. "You have your sail stitched with thin leather straps." She was referring to the quilted pattern of his large square sail. Hannibal nodded and spoke between his licks. "Certainly. It makes the sail much stronger, less likely to tear in a storm." "Yes. Do you know how long the Phoenicians have been doing this?" Hannibal took a moment to think. "I remember my grandfather telling me, when he was a young boy, his father was the first one to have the idea of sewing one vertical and one horizontal strap through the center of the sail, and around the edges also." "Ah. Thank you." Hannibal resumed munching his cone. "It is to you we owe thanks. You have filled our boats with much food. It wasn't necessary. We catch fish as we sail." "Oh, try to get your men to eat the fruit, especially the limes. They provide things your body needs, things not found in fish. If you want, squeeze the lime juice in water and add a little sugar. It's a pleasant combination." Hannibal nodded as his tongue worked to keep ahead of the melting ice cream. Far too soon, the deliciously sweet icy food of the gods was gone. He licked his fingers unashamedly before Megan. "I'll remember that forever," he muttered. Kelsey was trotting by, and on impulse Hannibal scooped her up in his arms and held her at his level. "Thank you for your gift, divine child of the gods." Kelsey laughed and petted his rough face. "Hello Hannibal!" she giggled in fluent Phoenician. "Will you bring me an elephant someday?" Megan's eyes went wide at Kelsey's joke and then she smiled. "My daughter is one of the very few people here who know how to speak your language. We practice with each other." "So amazing," said Hannibal as he put Kelsey down. "Totally without fear. It's the only thing that keeps reminding me she is a child goddess. Anywhere else in the world, a child like this could easily be taken by sailors and sold into slavery. She's in such perfect health too. She'd fetch a fine price at Sidon or any of the coastal cities of the Philistines." He had spoken in Phoenician. His home city sounded like Saida. Megan frowned. "My daughter wouldn't fetch a fine price here." Hannibal sighed and nodded. "Yes, you mentioned that. No slaves at all, not even children. So amazing. How is that possible?" Megan thought intensely, realizing this easy moment could be pivotal for the future of their two cultures. Unfortunately, as far as she knew, there was no Phoenician word for paradigm. Megan decided to go back to the original Greek. "Hannibal, do you know of the Greek idea of para digma?" Hannibal looked at her thoughtfully. "No. I know how to speak Greek though. Para means alongside of, and digma is example or model." "That's right, and para digma means alongside the model. The Greek idea is that we create models for the world around us, models that explain how the world works." Hannibal considered for a moment. "Yes. I know their gods are different from our gods." "That's right. And our models, or our gods if you want to call them that, they don't exist in isolation. They lock into each other like the individual pieces of your ship. You can't change one piece without affecting the others. And if you have to make a really major change to one piece, perhaps the whole ship has to change too. Imagine the till of your ship as a model..." "Or the demons that propel your magical boats," added Hannibal. "Yes, either way. And if you change something as basic as what steers or what propels the ship, maybe other parts of the ship have to change too. Maybe you would need a different hull design, or train your crew differently, or distribute the weight of your cargo differently, or change the height or position of your mast and sails. Or maybe you would need to do all of this." Hannibal stared at Megan in deep thought, considering the point she was making. Megan continued. "Now imagine a ship piece as a model, and the whole rest of the ship is what's alongside the model. Change the piece, and you can't stop there. You have to change what's alongside the piece. You have to change the whole ship. Change an important model for how the world works, and you have to shift the para digma." Hannibal's eyes went wide. "Yes! What a clever thought!" He looked incredulous. "And you say the barbaric Greeks came up with this fine way of thinking?!" Megan wasn't sure if what she was saying was chronologically correct, but she thought regardless, the original Greeks of her old timeline deserved the credit. She nodded yes and added, "We run our society on a different para digma than yours Hannibal. The only slaves here are the ones on your boats, and before you go, we'd like to buy their freedom." Hannibal was taken aback for a moment but then smiled happily. "More gold?" Megan nodded. "Yes. There will be a fifth chest filled with metal ingots, some of which will be gold. It's my understanding that you'll have to give some of these ingots to King Ethbaal?" Hannibal nodded. "Then let this fifth chest be part of that payment, and let your slaves be freemen when you reach home." He gave his agreement and then looked puzzled. "What do you want from us Megan? You have all the power of the gods. What could you possibly want from us?" "Trade for now, friendship and trade. We will trade all the metals in the fifth chest with you. In return, we would like all sorts of foodstuffs and materials for clothing, from wool to the Egyptian linens." Megan smiled. "Artichokes, olives and figs, wheat, your citrus fruits, just about everything will be desired, as long as it is not produced with slave labor. And perhaps in time, your society will shift to our para digma, and there will be no more Phoenician slaves." "But why should gods care? Why don't you just conquer us and order us to do what you want? With your power, we would gladly pay tribute for your protection." Megan shrugged and smiled. "Because it's not our para digma to do that." She leaned over and kissed the surprised Hannibal on his cheek. "Goodbye my friend, safe voyage." Hannibal knelt and kissed her sandaled foot in return. Megan blinked and then gazed at him affectionately, realizing perhaps for the first time how much she enjoyed her friendship with this ancient mariner. He had put on perhaps two kilos of weight since Megan first met him, but he was still very fit and wiry, and Megan thought quite handsome in a boyish sort of way. Megan had an idle speculation that David in the Bible might have looked just like Hannibal. But in the first timeline, David would become King more than ninety years in the future, around 1011 BC. Regardless of original Biblical accuracy, that wasn't going to happen here. Biblical David and Goliath were never going to be born, at least not in the genetic sense of the word, and the politics of the Middle East were wildly diverging from the original timeline. It was soon time for the Phoenician ships to depart. The metal gate to the sea was opened and the ships left the pier a few minutes after noontime. As Hannibal and his two cousins had discussed with Megan, the magical bird Coke began towing all three of their ships as soon as they left the harbor. The bird was pulling three independent lines at once. Toil and Profit were on either side of Asherim's Offer and slightly behind with longer tow ropes, and the two round boats were using their rudders to steer slightly apart from each other. Everyone in the boats, especially the oarsmen, thought this was a totally delightful way to travel. For the next two days, Coke pulled them at sixteen knots towards the Pillars of Hercules. As dawn broke on August 26, 2053, the lines went slack as the bird stopped towing. Hannibal looked at the familiar African shore and knew exactly where he was. There was a fine brisk wind from the west, and he could be at the small dusty port of Tangier with just another day of easy sailing. He reluctantly gave the order to release the amazingly strong and light bright-yellow lines of the Madeiran gods. Coke flew off with the ropes. Unknown to the Phoenicians, they were being shadowed by Discovery sixty kilometers to the west. Coke returned a short time later carrying the fifth brass chest that Megan had mentioned. The bird laid the chest at Hannibal's feet, made one last graceful bow of its wings, and then tucked them in and shot straight up. Hannibal squinted into the dawn sky but could see nothing. With a sigh, he ordered his men to deploy their sail and then sat down by the new chest. He opened the heavy bronze lid and smiled, lifting out the ingots one by one and admiring them. There were three small ingots each of iron, copper, tin, and silver, and five ingots of gold. Unknown to Hannibal, the Madeirans had not picked the lightest stable isotopes of the metals as they did for their own use, but tried to match the natural density of the metals as closely as possible. Hannibal took a deep breath and looked at the sea and considered. Copper and tin were the core metals for bronze, and they were both in short supply now. Wars had been fought over the mining rights to these metals, and if the Madeirans wanted to trade these scarce metals for simple foodstuffs and textiles, this represented an enormous opportunity for the Phoenicians. And their only sources of iron now were the unpredictable city-states of Greece which appeared to heading into dark times. Having another supplier of the fine metal would be viewed as a second enormous opportunity. Hannibal was very glad to have the treasure chests. It wasn't just the riches. Without them, who would believe his incredible tale of magicians and gods living on Atlantic islands? The story could quickly become a myth. But the workmanship of the bronze boxes and even the precision and uniformity of the ingots inside were hard proof of abilities beyond anyone's imagination. The King would be forced to accept the Atlantic islands and their godlike inhabitants as real. And the silver and gold! The Madeirans seemed so casual about giving it away, utterly incomprehensible. King Ethbaal was going to... to what? Hannibal smiled. The king was going to have a para digma shift. The world had changed, and Hannibal suddenly realized that the king would need a trade representative. Hannibal would be the obvious choice. The wiry mariner looked at his three boats and sighed. Before him were another two months of easy sailing east along the Mediterranean's familiar southern coastline before reaching his home port of Sidon. "Enjoy it while you can," Hannibal thought to himself. He doubted his life would ever be this simple again. ------- Chapter 17: All the King's Men Later that evening... Time: Tuesday, August 26, 2053 9:24 PM Megan came home to some warm hugs by her husband and sleepy daughter. Kelsey had already bathed and brushed her teeth and gotten her nighttime story from her father. After a quick tuck of her daughter into bed, Megan headed off to her own shower. It was just after 10 PM before she finally settled down with Alvaro on the living room couch. The evening was beautifully clear and cooling rapidly from the day's high of 23C, and the familiar sight of Funchal University was very pleasing. Megan sat at the opposite end of the couch from Alvaro, and then turned and lifted her legs and plopped her bare feet into Alvaro's lap. She was rewarded by a heavenly foot massage a moment later. "You look happy..." Megan commented as she smiled and her husband. "Well, I should be happy. Somehow I've convinced the most beautiful woman in the world to let me pet her bare feet... And let's see, what are these beautiful feet connected to?" Alvaro's hands began to caress her legs up her calves under her bathrobe. Megan shivered. "Hey! That tickles!" They both laughed for a moment, and then Megan added, "I don't think it's just me you're happy about." "No?" "No. I know you Alvaro. You look like a cat who just managed to swallow a very tasty canary. Did something exciting happen at work?" Alvaro paused for a moment and then nodded. "You first. How was your day?" "Wonderful! I tracked Hannibal into a tiny settlement where Tangier will someday be. Uh, at least in our old timeline. Their boats got there a few minutes before 6 PM, just as the sun was setting." "Hmm?" Alvaro was puzzled for a moment, thinking that sunset today was at 6:38 PM. But then he remembered Tangier was more than ten degrees east of Funchal. "Ah..." he sighed, "my saucy wench. What sexy feet you have..." "Hmm... Just keep up what you're doing. We goddesses know how to reward such loyal affection." "Indeed?" Alvaro grinned. "Such as?" "Ha! We goddesses also don't reveal all our intentions. It makes us more mysterious that way. I promise, you won't be disappointed." "Okay! Sounds like a plan... So, I take it Hannibal is all right?" "Yep. There was no excitement at Tangier either. Hannibal runs a tight crew. I don't think they told anybody yet about us." "Well sure, that's smart. It might take them two months to reach Sidon. This world might not have invented much yet, but they have the concept of pirate very well established. And the man is packing a heck of a lot of gold." "Oh yes, I agree. Hannibal is smart enough to hide everything until he reaches home. Anyway, my job as ambassador and Coke controller is complete, at least for a while. I'm scheduled for some final debriefings tomorrow, and then I'm off active duty until the end of September." "Hey, that's great. Want to head to Porto Santo?" "Absolutely! We can have five weeks there, catch the last part of summer at the beach! Cool sand, warm ocean, September is the best!" Alvaro smiled. "Kelsey will be thrilled. Want me to set up the transportation? Thursday be okay?" "Thursday will be fine. But Discovery should be back at Funchal tomorrow, and I think will be making a run to Porto Santo the day after. We can probably hitch a ride. I'll handle it." "Great..." More caresses on her feet. Megan smiled and stretched her legs. "So, husband with the I-ate-the-canary smile, what's up?" Alvaro nodded and grinned. "Big breakthrough at the labs this past week. We've been spending the last few months analyzing some data from four years ago." "Oh yeah?" "May 7, 2049 to be exact." Megan shivered. "The day Princeton burst our bubbles." "Yes. Our new analysis seems to be conclusive. It wasn't the intersection of Princeton's bubble with ours that caused the temporal rupture. It was their damn kilowatt lasers. They were using four orders of magnitude too much power." Megan cocked her head. "So?" "The data imply, perhaps I should use the word suggest, that it would be safe to let our low-power resonance spheres intersect with each other. There was never any firm theoretical reason not to. It was just an unknown danger. And now we think the empirical evidence shows it'll be safe." Megan was quiet for a moment as the implications sank in. "Wow. This is huge. It'll change everything." "Yes. To maximize our power extraction ability, all resonance chambers would be brought up to the 326 ms limit. Each chamber would be capable of generating a force of 16.5 mega-Newtons, and the only constraint is that all chambers combined will have to stay below a global limit of extracting 144 GW. We can even put three resonance chambers on Discovery and lift it right out of the water. Who needs a dry dock when your ships can lift themselves out of the water?" He laughed. "A great alternative to building canals too! If we're right, they might never be needed in this timeline." Megan frowned. "Three resonance chambers on the same ship? Won't they compete with each other?" "Huh? What do you mean?" "Well, if the first chamber is focusing all the dark force to its location, how can the other chambers work?" Alvaro frowned. "You use up energy. You don't use up force. You don't have the right way of looking at this." "So what is the right way?" "Well, imagine two parachutists. The presence of one below the other doesn't block the Earth's pull on the top guy. Think of the dark pressure as a fire hydrant with three hoses connected to it. As long as the hoses aren't drawing any water, the pressure in each is the same, whether the other hoses are connected or not." "Oh, I see. And it's the drawing of the water with one hose that reduces the pressure head available for the others." "Exactly. And with the resonance spheres approaching one hundred thousand kilometers, the available power is enormous. We could draw 144 GW and still be at the 1% level of the background fluctuations." "Is all this a certainty?" For the first time, Alvaro looked a bit sheepish. "Well, almost, not exactly. We still need to do some proof-of-principle experiments." "Hey, how dangerous will this be?" Alvaro gave her a playful smile. "Hey back! This is Alvaro the Great talking, remember?" His playfulness was contagious. Megan rolled her eyes. "Oh, I see. I'm a goddess, so you must be Alvaro the Phoenician god of physics, huh?" "Well, maybe I was being too modest. How about Alvaro the Greatest for a title?" Megan reached behind her and playfully chucked an extra sofa pillow at his head. Alvaro grinned as he almost but not quite managed to dodge the soft blow. "We'll be asking Congress for permission to run a remote experiment on the moon, sub-nanosecond spheres a few centimeters in radius. We should have the package built in a month or two, turn off all the other generators and have Topcat make its first voyage to the moon, maybe pick up a few rock samples too." "Hmmm, think Congress will give their approval?" "The potential reward is so great, yes, I think so. There's already some high-level talk of stopping the dry dock construction at the shipyard, turning the area into a second ship building bay. The first trading ship we build might not have propellers. They wouldn't be needed. We could even put Golem-sized dark generators into bluebirds. Their capabilities would be enormous." His warm hands continued to massage her feet. Megan gave a deep sigh and closed her eyes, relaxing completely. "Shift the paradigm..." she muttered. As Alvaro gently caressed her feet, he made a vow to himself never to tell Megan the result of one additional calculation he had made. His research team finally understood why their dark energy generators got cold while in use. The dark energy resonance caused a backflow, a backscatter of positive energy flowing backward in time. The effect was similar to an electron exchanging energy with a position. In half the photonic interactions, the electron would speed up before the positron would slow down, the virtual photon exchanging the energy being absorbed before it was emitted. The duration of existence of the virtual photon would be less than zero, which in singularly mechanics was the axiom definition of moving backwards in time. Madeira's dark generators could produce gigantic amounts of power and force, but the underlying dark resonance was quite gentle, and the cooling effect of the photonic backscatter could be ignored. Not so with the Princeton resonance that tore spacetime. Alvaro did a private calculation concerning the destruction of Golem's bubble, and was horrified to find that the backscatter would cascade exponentially at the Princeton end of the temporal dipole. All matter within a ninety kilometer radius of the Princeton lab was almost certainly brought down to within a few millionths of a degree of absolute zero. Except for the torsional pulses adding rotational energy to the Princeton bubble, the matter would have collapsed into a Bose Einstein condensate. That would have left a vacuous spherical pit ninety kilometers in radius at the Princeton site, with a small puddle of degenerate matter lying at the bottom, a puddle pulled into a small sphere by its own gravity. Alvaro thought that might have been a planet killer. Even without the collapse to degenerate matter, his wife's actions had certainly resulted in the deaths of millions and probably hundreds of millions, both from the instant flash freezing inside the Princeton bubble and the resulting planetary shock wave once the bubble was popped. The surrounding atmosphere would rush in to fill the vacuum left by the solidified air. Did humanity survive the event? The tremendous thunderous power of a simple lightning strike is due to the atmospheric discharge of around one giga-joule of energy. How much more destructive the Princeton event must have been, with outside air rushing in over a vacuous terrain greater than the area of New Jersey. According to Alvaro's calculations, it was hell's own version of a thunder clap, releasing the energy equivalent of half a million Hiroshima-size nuclear bombs or twenty billion lightning strikes. The atmospheric shock wave would be unimaginable. The destruction would be extremely widespread. With a nuclear bomb, much of the energy gets released as heat and radiation which stays concentrated at the local blast point. Not so with the cold release of the Princeton bubble. All the potential energy stored in Earth's atmosphere pushing against the bubble was mechanical energy, ready to transform into an exploding shock wave of momentum as the air imploded inward. As the vacuous wave propagated over the deep ocean, it would raise the sea water almost ten meters in height. Countries bordering the Atlantic would be hit twice, first by the atmospheric shock wave, and then hours later by shattering tsunamis. And a large portion of the New Jersey shore was within sixty kilometers of the Princeton labs. A broad wedge of the Atlantic thirty kilometers wide and all the ground below had been super cooled to very near absolute zero. How long would it take for the wedge and the land to thaw? Years? Decades? Alvaro sighed as he petted Megan's feet. There was no reason to ever burden his wife with such guilt. After a while he gave a playful tug on one of her big toes. "Come! It's time for the goddess to deliver her divine reward." Megan's eyes blinked open. "Oh, it's never a good idea to rush a goddess Alvaro!" But she got up anyway, and smiling with her husband they headed off for bed. Two years later... Time: Friday, May 7, 2055 1:48 AM UMT (Universal Madeiran Time) (circa 1101 BC) Sunrise was just breaking on the horizon as Ensign Megan Lopes stepped out of a hatchway and onto a portside deck of the M.N.S. Urushalim Express. Megan had a short while to relax and she stretched her arms wide, idly estimating the sun's azimuth at twenty degrees north of due east. Her merchant marine ship was sailing due east at 36 knots and was currently forty kilometers due west of Sidon, on time for their arrival at 2:20 AM UMT. "Six years," Megan thought to herself. "Today is the six-year anniversary of our new timeline." She took a moment to reflect on the slow pace of Madeira's efforts to change the world. The world and especially the Mediterranean area were now under a high degree of surveillance. Close to a thousand compact observation / communications platforms were in operation, not in orbit but hovering at stationary positions typically sixty kilometers above the Earth's surface. The sensor array had given Madeira detailed knowledge not only of the sizes and technical levels of the world's populations, but also of the social norms. The magnitude and pervasiveness of the brutality had been a shock to many. The citizens of Madeira thought they understood now why the human species never had the population explosion that it experienced in the twentieth century. The lack of technology to support dense populations was only a small part of the answer. The primary driver that kept the population in check was the continual warfare. In this era, war was the social norm worldwide and seemed to have a fractal-like quality to it, occurring at all levels of magnification. Empire against empire, city against city, tiny hamlet against tiny hamlet, ethnic and religious groups against alien groups, war was everywhere. Madeira's models showed a huge churn in the world's population, women typically living a third of their adult lives in pregnancy, starting around fifteen years of age. The prodigious flow of new children would overcome the ravages of the wars, slowly edging the population upwards until a natural disaster such as a flood or famine or plague would cause the population to collapse. And then the great cyclic process would begin again. And the wars never ceased, even during calamities. By the end of 2054, Madeira's population had grown to more than 127,000, including over 12,000 at their new settlements in the Azores. And their supply of elements was now almost limitless. A single finely-tuned matter conversion chamber could make almost a cubic meter per hour of any element they wished, from hydrogen to bismuth, elements 1 to 83, and often with as little as 10 MW of dark power. The only exceptions below bismuth were technetium and promethium, elements with 43 and 61 protons which had no stable isotopes. Madeira's population might be stable and even growing a bit, but the rest of world was heading in the opposite direction, continuing to decline in numbers below the low range of Madeira's earlier estimates. The Satan Bug had been extremely efficient in eliminating the senior leadership, and the current generation of young warlords ruling the world was both aggressive and destructive. Outside of Madeira, the world's population was estimated to have dipped below thirty-one million, in spite of the almost complete lack of elderly people. It was impossible to measure the impact of Madeira's presence in this new timeline, but Megan didn't think Madeira's existence had been a net benefit to the Phoenicians, at least not yet. The tiny nation was being squeezed by its neighbors even before the temporal rupture, and the possibility of Phoenicia acquiring new allies with godlike abilities was seen as a grave threat by the surrounding tribes. The Israelites were advancing on their settlements in the Canaanite highlands and the Philistines were actively contesting land along the Canaanite coast. Tyre had become the southernmost city that was still firmly in Phoenician hands. And on the home front at Funchal, there was growing opposition in the legislature regarding Madeira's ambitious plan to abolish slavery in the Mediterranean area. Very little progress had been made with their attempts at trading so far. King Ethbaal had repeatedly tried to cheat on his end of the agreements. Madeira had offered him very good prices for slave-free commodities, nothing as insanely generous as they had with Hannibal, but still very attractive offers. And he had blown one deal after another. The king just couldn't seem to understand that no slave labor meant no slave labor, along all parts of the production process. For the last three months, the Urushalim Express had declined almost all the trade goods being offered by the Phoenicians with the exception of Hannibal's farms, and this current trip would be no different. Megan sighed. King Ethbaal just wouldn't learn. The Phoenicians were risking all the dangers associating with gods and had reaped very little reward. On one occasion Madeira had to decline even Hannibal's trade goods, though the problem was caused by a Hannibal overseer, one of his former slaves. Megan was somewhat appalled by how Hannibal's cousin Devarim handled the matter. It was an example of the world's current code of justice, swift and brutal. "Well," thought Megan, "at least we'll be buying Hannibal's good today. King Ethbaal will get his tax. That should take some of the sting out of rejecting the king's own goods." Megan took one least deep breath of the clean morning air, and headed back to the bridge. At the port of Sidon... Hannibal stood by the docks, the warming sun at his back as he watched the western horizon. The gods' ship was due in port a half hour after sunrise, and they were never late or early. Hannibal estimated he had about a quarter hour before they would dock, and he was expecting to see the command tower of the Urushalim Express any moment now. Urushalim Express! The city to the south had been named after the Phoenician god Shalim, god of the setting sun and the peace of the cool of the evening. What a joke! Why the Madeirans named their merchant ship after that infernal city, Hannibal would never understand. In his opinion, the place should be burned and turned into a garbage dump. So many wars, the death, the misery, everybody was always fighting for the infernal place. The Jebusites, the Philistines, even the Phoenicians at one time, they all wanted the city. And now the Hittites were in control, though the Israelites seemed determined to capture it someday. It was a moderately difficult place to defend. There were nice deep ravines on three sides, but the northern direction was a constant headache to the city defenders no matter how many walls they built, and as a man who loved being at sea, Hannibal could never understand why anyone would want to waste their life defending a piece of dirt. Total madness... Hannibal squinted. Yes, there, the faintest glimmer, right on the horizon. The gods were on time once again. He sighed and looked around him, twitching nervously. The king had two full platoons of his elite personal guard right here in the harbor area, 120 heavily armed men, the king's best archers. They were double what had been agreed to with the Madeirans. Plus a full battalion of army regulars was nearby in the city, pulled away from the southern border with the Philistines. The force represented a fifth of both the elite guard and the citizen army. It was far more security than was needed and the show of force made Hannibal feel very uneasy. So many times Hannibal had pleaded with the king in private to be completely honest with the new gods and their divine powers. Assume they could see and hear everything, absolutely everything, Hannibal had urged. The bartering deals the gods were offering made slave labor completely unnecessary. It was all in vain. The young king was greedy and just could not comprehend an economic effort that was not supported by slave labor. Hannibal finally concluded the Madeirans would probably have an easier time trading with the Egyptians or even the barbaric Greeks. He would never voice such traitorous opinions, of course. Yes, there it was. The divine ship was clearly visible now. After all these visits, it was still beautiful to see, how gracefully the ship flew across the surface of the water. Hannibal had no idea how the mountainous ship ever managed to dock in the shallow waters of Sidon's port. Even Hannibal's round boats had to be careful during low tide when the Yarikh the moon god was facing directly forward or directly away. And yet this divine ship seemed to lift itself out of the water as it approached its berth, having so much of its bulk out of the water it that defied comprehension. Hannibal shook his head in wonder. The infinite powers of the gods! The great ship slowed rapidly as it approached the dock, spinning like a dancer and then completely a final broadside docking maneuver. Not for the first time, Hannibal noticed that the stern demons again appeared asleep. The ship glided through the water as if it were being pulled by great ropes. The scene reminded Hannibal of the magical bird Coke towing his ships to Tangier two years ago. And yet... There were no ropes here. Could there be ropes below in the water? But what would be pulling them? Hannibal shook his head and dismissed the thought. No matter. It was the gods' work, not meant for mere mortals to understand. Moments after the Urushalim Express docked, a metal stairway unfolded and the familiar figure of the human goddess Megan Lopes began to descend. Standing beside Hannibal was Ittobaal, known as the king's right hand and overseer of the royal treasury. He was flanked by two royal guards. By previous agreement, this would be the limit of direct contact between the two societies. The two platoons of archers nearby were in violation of that agreement, but as before the goddess appeared willing to forgive Ethbaal for his transgression. Megan nodded to Hannibal and Ittobaal as she approached them. "Peaceful greetings," she said simply. Hannibal nodded and replied in kind as his nation's trade envoy with the gods. "Peaceful greetings. Did you have a safe trip?" "Yes, thank you." Megan smiled with her reply. She wondered what Hannibal would think if he knew the 5000 kilometer trip from Madeira had taken less than a day and a half. During the nights, with detailed telemetry of the sea in front of them, the Urushalim Express had been traveling well over 100 knots, riding the air a few meters above the Mediterranean. Ittobaal got right to business. "I expect you will find our trade goods acceptable this time... ?" Hannibal frowned. The inflection in Ittobaal's voice to turn his statement into a question was very indistinct. It almost sounded as if he were issuing the goddess a challenge. Megan shook her head sadly. "Ittobaal, we're still having major problems with the king's goods. If you will remember our conversation last month, we stated firmly we would no longer accept Egyptian linens transported by slaves. The same is true for your cedar wood. Hannibal's figs and olives are acceptable. Ittobaal, learn from Hannibal's example. His business is completely free of slave labor. It's really not that hard to do." "And what is your decision on the King's citrus?" Ittobaal quietly asked. He made a subtle hand gesture, and his two guards began to drift away from him. Hannibal felt a sudden tremor of fear. He had been expecting a blustering protest from Ittobaal. He sometimes trusted that the man was speaking his true mind when he was shouting, but never when he was this quiet. What was going on? "Ittobaal," Megan responded. "The king waited for a rainstorm to harvest the oranges with slaves. We do wish you wouldn't play games with us." A tiny voice communicator chirped in Megan's ear. "Ensign Lopes Ma'am, the king's guardsmen by the warehouse appear to be forming a skirmish line. Captain Silva orders you return to ship immediately." Megan didn't bother to sub-vocalize her Portuguese response. "Roger Seaman Farris. I copy." She took two steps backwards and gestured, "If you will excuse me for a moment..." Ittobaal raised his left hand high above his head. To the utter shock and consternation of Hannibal, the two royal guards from either side unsheathed their long bronze knives and rushed in to seize Megan. For a critical second, Hannibal stood frozen and motionless. Megan for an instant was dismayed that the situation had deteriorated so rapidly, and then her years of military training took over. She responded to the attack without thinking, outside roundhouse kick to the inside knife-arm of her nearer opponent, and then spinning inside the arm to deliver a combination elbow strike to the solar plexus followed by snapping her forearm upward into a back-knuckle strike to the face. The blade flew from the man's hand and slid along the rough cobblestones of the dock. The astonished man staggered backwards, blood streaming from his nose. A second later he fell to the ground, completely disoriented and nauseous from the blow to his chest. The second guard was enraged that a mere female could successfully attack and disarm a king's guardsman. He raised his long knife and Hannibal gasped as he thought the man was about to decapitate Megan with his knife. Hannibal finally began to come to her rescue, despairing as he realized he would not reach the goddess in time. But before the guard could deliver his killing blow, the guard and the ground around him suddenly seemed to be enveloped with sharp popping sounds and the man collapsed. Hannibal grunted as he saw the man's blood flowing briskly from almost every point of his body. By the gods! What had happened?! And what was that unearthly sound? "Hannibal, DOWN!" screamed Megan. He turned the instant a volley of arrows was fired from the King's elite militia, saw his own death flash before him, and then Megan was in front of him, shielding his body with hers. The astonished Hannibal felt numerous arrows strike Megan's back and the blows knocked them both to the ground, Hannibal flat on his back with his arm pinned under Megan's body. "Stay behind me," Megan whispered as she lay on her side and worked the hood of her cloak, covering the back of her neck and head. Hannibal heard her grunt as several more arrows struck her from behind, and then he cried out as an arrow struck his exposed arm. "Are you hit?" Megan asked. The sounds of sharp popping erupted from the great ship. Hannibal stared in wonder at four distinct points on the ship that were rapidly flashing lights. The air above them seemed to buzz, as if it were filled with angry bees. "Goddess?!" Hannibal was speechless. The goddess was sacrificing her life to save his. As he lay on his back, he saw a great metallic bird fall from the sky faster than a stone. Fearful it was going to land right on top of them, he sat up slightly to pull Megan's body closer to the edge of the dock. He gaped in astonishment at the scene behind Megan. The King's two platoons of royal guard, a full hundred and twenty archers, all lay slaughtered before him. Their bodies and the stones around them were horribly chewed up. Men and women were running down the stairway from Urushalim Express. And then the great bird came quickly to rest and blocked the scene of the carnage. Miraculously, the great bird did not complete its fall. Hannibal could see it was floating about one cubit above the ground. The metal skin of the bird parted and more men and women jumped out. Hannibal gasped as Megan stood up also. "Oh hell!" Megan exclaimed in Portuguese. An arrow lay deeply embedded in Hannibal's right forearm. "Medics! I want this man transported to Funchal Medical immediately!" Two kindly gods from the metallic bird, a man and a woman, checked to see that Megan was not wounded and then began treating Hannibal's arm, working to stop the blood flow. Megan was busy talking with her captain, asking permission to travel with the air ambulance. Hannibal swore. The wrist and hand below his wound seemed completely dead and uncontrollable. Hannibal had seen a similar wound before, and he assumed he was going to lose the use of his arm forever. The Madeiran people worked to stop the bleeding and stabilize his condition, and then Hannibal frowned as they began herding him inside the metallic bird. He took a second to look around. The only other visible Phoenician alive was the guard Megan had attacked. He had recovered and was sitting up shock still, probably praying these mighty gods would spare his life. Hannibal looked around again. There was absolutely no sign of Ittobaal. Not surprising. The man's abilities to appear and disappear at will were legend. The medics tried to herd Hannibal into the great metal bird again, and again he paused. "Hannibal, it's okay," said Megan. "I'll come with you. We need to treat your arm." Hannibal nodded without understanding. The blood flow was already stopped. What more could be done? But he followed her command in obedience. Amazingly, there were chairs for sitting inside the great bird. Hannibal sat next to a window and stared in wonder as the door sealed and the bird lifted. He was thinking what his life would be like with only one arm. He felt his body getting heavy and pushed into the plush chair as the pilots accelerated along a suborbital trajectory. Much of the flight would be just outside the atmosphere 140 kilometers above the Earth's surface. "So beautiful," thought Hannibal as he sat mesmerized by the expanse of the familiar sea below him. As the minutes passed, he watched the blue sky turn purple and then blackish. The first stage of the flight was to leave Earth's atmosphere. The ambulance was accelerating straight up at a rate of 13% standard Earth gravity. Four minutes after liftoff, they broke the sound barrier at a height of forty kilometers. The air temperature outside the window was -22C and the air density a third of one percent of what it had been on the surface. The pilots increased acceleration to 20% of standard gravity, continuing to climb and angling the craft west to the great-circle path to Madeira. Hannibal began to see everything below, his homeland, the great inland sea, the homeland of the Hittites to the far north, by the gods, all at the same time! And the stars above, so impossibly bright and sharp. And yes, there! Near the edge on the horizon to the west and north, so far away. Greece! Such a wonder. The loss of feeling in his arm was a small price to pay for the gift of such vision. After reaching its desired altitude, the ambulance maintained its acceleration to the west. Hannibal couldn't pull his eyes from the view. He stared without moving for a long while. From the cruising height of the craft, Hannibal could see the world, the horizon 1500 kilometers distant in all directions. The images of all his years of experience of sailing the great inland sea clicked into recognition with the sight before him. They would soon pass directly over the great island of Kriti, the island Hannibal had once heard Megan call Crete. So fast! Such a wonder. Hannibal stared at the land of the Greeks, and then gasped as he realized the coming darkness on the western horizon meant the sun had yet to rise there. "Orpheus!" Hannibal thought. "You were right! My friend, you were right..." Five years ago, one year after the plague, Hannibal as a new captain had taken his boats on a trading mission to Greece. He became friends with a young Greek captain of similar circumstance. The man had been a navigator who inherited a fine ship from his father who had died in the plague. Orpheus had a theory that the Earth was not flat but a round ball, with people living all over its surface. His proof was that a mountain approached from the sea would first have its peak visible and then its sides, well before the coastline could be seen on the horizon. Orpheus concluded that the curvature of a ball-shaped Earth would cause such an effect. He even had an estimate for the size of the ball made from measurements of sailing to mountains. From one side to the opposite, Orpheus said the Earth ball was thirty million cubits in diameter. Hannibal thought the man was absolutely daft, though he couldn't quite figure out what was wrong with his argument. But a ball as heavy as the Earth just floating in nothingness?! But now the proof was before his eyes. The curvature of the Earth was clearly visible, undeniable. Orpheus had been right, and the implications were staggering. There was no danger of sailing off the edge of the world. And what was on the other side of the ball?! Could Hannibal sail there? "Megan!" Hannibal thought at last. She had offered her life to save his! How could he act so uncaring and forgetful in return? The thought came crashing in. Was the goddess all right? He turned to her to ask. She was busy with the same man who had treated Hannibal's arm. Megan's cloak and shirt were off. She was wearing a simple halter that covered her breasts and the doctor was treating her back. Miraculously, there were no deep wounds, but several sharp purplish areas that looked like they would turn into bruises. The man had a silver white can and a fast mist came from it as it neared each bruise. Megan seemed to sigh in relief at each spray. "Anywhere else?" the doctor asked in Portuguese. Megan sighed. "One hit on the left butt cheek. It's not bad. Just let it go for now." The doctor nodded and finished. "You're very lucky you weren't hit in the neck or head, even with the armor." "Yeah..." Megan put her shirt back on. "You're alive," Hannibal whispered. Megan nodded. "Try to keep your arm as still as possible." Hannibal glanced down. The doctors had cut off the shaft of the arrow just above the skin and had immobilized his arm in a splint but had not tried to extract the remaining piece inside his arm. Hannibal was amazed how quickly and completely the doctors had stopped his bleeding. He mentioned this to Megan. "Oh, remember the spray they used on your arm? It contains a... well, something we discovered a long time ago. We call it a super coagulant," she said, using the Portuguese word. "It comes from the venom of a certain snake. It makes the blood clot, stop flowing. It works very fast." Hannibal frowned mightily, stared at his splint and shuddered. "They sprayed my arm with snake venom?!" "Not quite, but close. It was just to stop the bleeding. Do you mind?" He looked back up at Megan, suddenly feeling very foolish. He pointed out the window. "It's no matter. To see such wonder, it was a fair trade to lose the arm. But goddess! Are you immortal?" "Huh? No!" Megan smiled and offered Hannibal her cloak to his uninjured arm. "Here, touch this. Think of it as fine leather armor but much tougher and more flexible. An arrow cannot penetrate it." She grimaced slightly as the acceleration pressed her back into her seat. "The impacts still deliver a punch though. But I'll be okay." "You risked your life to save mine. Ittobaal and the king must have wanted you as a hostage. The arrows were meant only for me. Goddess, you risked your life to save mine." Megan shrugged. "I was just glad I could do it. You suspected nothing?" Hannibal shook his head no. Such a wonder. Under Canaanite law for saving his life, the goddess had a clear right to demand Hannibal's bondage in slavery. And yet she was dismissing all her rights with a shrug. Hannibal blushed in gratitude and replied, "This last month, I was fearful for my family and ships. I suspected the King was getting jealous of my friendship with you. But I never suspected he would do something this stupid. My family!" Hannibal blinked in horror at the danger his new wife and infant son must be in. He had married shortly after returning to Sidon a year and a half ago, taking the King's niece as wife to seal his new political alliance. Megan reached across the narrow aisle and gently touched his leg. "Don't worry. They're safe for now. The Madeiran military is preventing the King's troops from reaching your farms." He struggled to sit up against the invisible hands that were pushing him back into his seat. "You know this to be true?" "Yes. I know this is true." Hannibal let his heavy body sink back into the soft seat. "Such kindness. I married Samira for political reasons, but I love her now, and my son too of course. How can I express my gratitude goddess?" "Oh, we don't desire payment for saving you Hannibal. But the situation on the ground is complex. We will have much to discuss." Megan stared at him for a moment and then smiled with compassion for his wound. "Just rest for now. We'll talk more after we land and your arm is properly treated." Hannibal blinked. "Yes. Where is the great bird flying?" "My home, Funchal. We should be landing in about thirty minutes." Hannibal frowned. "Do you jest?" Megan grinned. "No, not at all. Take a look outside the window. We're halfway there already." Hannibal turned and stared at the window. The goddess was right. They were already more than halfway across the great inland sea. They were now over predawn Africa, flying just south of the inland sea's southern coastline. To see the sea in such completeness, it took his breath away. And the journey! Three months of sailing done in a single hour. Was there nothing beyond the gods' power? The invisible hand pressing Hannibal into his seat disappeared for a moment as the craft pivoted before beginning its braking maneuver. Hannibal looked forward and studied the man and woman in the front of the craft. Two gods, directing the magical bird where to go. And yet... His nautical mind was demanding that he consider the situation differently. Hannibal remembered himself as a twelve-year-old, on his first long-range trading voyage with his father. His father had an old helmsman and a much younger navigator who were good friends with each other. They would often talk while they worked at night, swapping stories while they skillfully guided the ship by the stars. They would let young Hannibal listen in, and he would lie by his post quietly and gaze at the stars while listening to the stories. The times were some of the fondest memories in Hannibal's life. And that was what Hannibal's mind was insisting on now, observing the male pilot and female co-pilot doing their jobs. Two people, not gods, two people competently doing their jobs and having great trust and confidence in each other's abilities, chatting quietly with each other just as the people on Hannibal's boat had done a dozen years ago. But that would mean... People! Not gods, people! And hadn't Megan insisted on this very point when they first met, that she was not a god? And was she not mortal? Hannibal had seen her bruises with his own eyes, from arrows meant for him. Were gods capable of such human weakness and compassion and sacrifice? No! But that would mean... People! Not divine families but people families! Megan's daughter Kelsey, a real girl! But that would mean... Did these people simply build this magical craft, the same way young Hannibal helped build his father's boats? But that would mean... Could Hannibal build such a craft himself? No divinity required, just skill?! But that would mean... a para digma shift of everything! Everything in Hannibal's universe would have to change, everything, including the core building blocks of how the universe worked. Hannibal was not ready for such a step. Soon he would have to face this, but not now, not yet, and he struggled to push the thoughts from his mind. Megan misinterpreted his distress. "Just try to relax Hannibal. We'll be able to help you as soon as we land. Just try to enjoy the scenery." Hannibal nodded and obeyed the kind goddess's request. He was quiet for the rest of the flight, becoming lost in the beauty of the Earth below him. ------- Chapter 18: Planting a Seed Eight hours later. Time: May 7, 2055 11:10 AM Hannibal woke slowly at first, and then his eyes opened with a jerk. He was lying on an enormous bed in a large room. Wires and tubes were attached to his uninjured arm, and the other arm was encased in a hard shell from just below the elbow to his fingers. Hannibal stared in amazement as he wiggled his fingers and bent them to feel the edge of the shell. He had assumed he had lost the use of the arm forever. Apparently not... The view out the large adjacent windows was grand. Hannibal thought his room must be a full hundred cubits above the ground. He recognized the beautiful city of Funchal instantly. "How are you feeling?" asked a man in fluent Phoenician from the other side of the room. Hannibal turned to the man and thought for a moment before giving him an honest answer. "Very clean, cleaner than I've been in two years, and a little sleepy. My arm! It's working now, and all the pain is gone, just an itchy feeling." The man nodded. "The doctors will be here soon to talk with you. I'll be your interpreter. My name is Dimas." Hannibal nodded. The recognized the man's uniform. He was a member of the Madeiran military. Hannibal took a deep breath. "Thank you Dimas. Do you know, will I have to wear this shell forever?" The man laughed. "No! Probably a few weeks I would guess. I think they had to do some..." He paused for a moment. "I don't know how to say nerve reconstruction." The last two words were in Portuguese. ""The doctors had to work on the part of your body that tells your muscles how to move. The doctors will tell you." "Tell me what?" "Well," Dimas scratched his head for a moment, "from what I heard, everything went fine. The shell is so you won't stress the part the doctors just worked on. After the shell comes off, you'll be..." He paused for a moment. "Healthy." Hannibal nodded slowly and stared at his wiggling fingers. "Such a gift," he thought silently, and then out loud, "My family, all the people who work for me, can you tell me? Are they still safe?" Dimas looked genuinely sorry. "I really don't know, and I'm not authorized to give you that kind of information if I did. My job is interpreter, definitely not to be a source of information unless I'm ordered to tell you something." Hannibal paused. "I understand." He tried to smile and reply in the language that Megan was teaching him. "No problem." Dimas smiled. "Yeah." He switched back to Phoenician. "Megan Lopes wanted to be here when you woke up, but..." Hannibal nodded. "Yes, I know. She mentioned this to me just before I went into surgery. She and her husband, one of the hundred kings of Madeira, will be meeting with the other ninety-nine kings and deciding what they want to do about what happened at Sidon. Megan said it might take all day." Dimas nodded thoughtfully and said nothing for a while. "I imagine the hospital will bring you lunch soon, probably just some clear liquids and crackers. But maybe you'll get some real food for dinner." Hannibal couldn't help but smile. "Real food?" Dimas got up and stretched. "Yeah. Let me make sure the doctors know you're awake." With a cheerful nod he walked out of the room. Hannibal returned to gazing out the window. The Funchal hospital was very near the ocean, and he had a splendid view of both the Atlantic to the south and city of Funchal to the west. Although he didn't recognize it, he could easily see Megan's residential complex less than a kilometer down the coast. And currently the day was sunny, but a wind was picking up and Hannibal's keen eyes studied the clouds for a moment. "A storm is coming," he thought, "not a big one but a fast one." This would not be a day to see the sun kiss the horizon when evening came. Hannibal stared at the tubes and wires connected to his undamaged arm. "It's long overdue Hannibal," he thought to himself. "And you probably have the whole afternoon. It's time to shift the para digma." Hannibal leaned back and relaxed and began the great work of changing everything. Eight hours later. Time: May 7, 2055 7:20 PM The hospital room was quiet, except for the wind-driven rain lashing the windows. The lights were on low and the interpreter guard quietly reading a book. Hannibal was disconnected from all his wires and he lay in bed quietly enjoying the view of the city lights below, seeing all the power and dark beauty of the storm without having to worry about protecting his boats or crops. Dimas stood to attention and saluted as Megan entered the room. Alvaro entered a second later. Megan returned the salute. "Corporal, you are relieved." "Thank you Ensign. Good night." With a last nod at Hannibal, Dimas left the room and went home to his family. Megan and Alvaro came to the bedside and pulled up a couple of chairs. "I hear the surgery went well," began Megan mostly in Phoenician, but using the Egyptian word for surgery. Hannibal lifted his arm and cast and nodded. "Only two weeks, and then the shell will come off. The doctor's last words were, good as new." He said the last phrase in Portuguese. Megan smiled at her friend's progress in speaking her language and replied in kind. "Excellent! Did you get a good dinner?" Hannibal grinned back and tried to continue in Portuguese. "A fine meal. My only regret for dessert no chocolate ice cream." And then his eyes pleaded with Megan for news about his family. Megan switched to Phoenician. "Your farms are still safe, and your family. Our military can do this easily. But politically, I think we're at a pivot point for both our nations." Hannibal nodded slowly and thought to himself, "Pivot point? Yes, a good way to think of it." He looked at Alvaro and said out loud, "You are one of the kings. I feel I should kneel before you, or at least bow." Alvaro had been intensely studying the Phoenician language with his wife for the last two years. He replied, "Please don't. That custom is totally unheard of here." He then smiled. "You think of me as a king? You don't consider our President is closer to that title?" Hannibal shook his head. "Your system of rule is so strange, but no. The power to make law is the true power of a king. Your wife has described your executive to me. He seems to have Ittobaal's position, one who executes the king's desires." Alvaro grinned and then gave a small laugh. "Well, that's not exactly what our President is, but I see your point. Hannibal, our Congress is deeply divided over the issue of how to proceed with Phoenicia. We are very, very reluctant to continue our military operations there." Alvaro sighed. "Let me first tell you what's going on. A civil war has broken out in Canaan. King Ethbaal controls the coastal cities and borders, but much of the rest of the population is fleeing into the farmlands. Your two cousins are trying to keep things organized. They're doing a good job of it too." Hannibal frowned. "Our neighbors will invade." Megan spoke up. "So far the Aramaeans to the west have not responded militarily. The Philistines to the south though might be beginning to mass their army. It's too early to judge their intentions, but the only forces opposing them at Tyre are five platoons of your citizen army." Megan was referring to the Phoenician border city forty kilometers south of Sidon. Hannibal looked shocked. "Three hundred men?! Against the Philistines?! And no royal guards?" Alvaro shook his head. "The king has about four hundred of the guard left. Two platoons were killed this morning at the harbor, and another platoon was destroyed in an incident with the Madeiran military in the afternoon. The guard was herding a battalion of regular army to fight against your cousins before they could flee across the mountains. We attacked the royal guard from the air. Most of the army regulars joined your cousins, and the rest fled back to the coast." Alvaro gave Hannibal a moment to digest this and then continued. "Hannibal, we really don't want to be in the business of directing a civil war. Congress voted to protect your farmlands from attack for another full day, but we'll be back in debate over this tomorrow morning." Alvaro went on to describe the details of the situation. Phoenicia had a population of about 62,000, 0.2% of the world's people. Because of the plague, a full 50% were children below fifteen years of age. Of the adults, half were women and 20% were slaves, resulting in approximately 12,000 adult male citizens, split roughly into half farmers and three equal categories of sea traders, local fishermen, and urban dwellers who specialized in various manufacturing businesses. From this population, the king had organized 600 career warriors and an additional citizen army of 3000 soldiers which acted both as a military and a royal police under the command of the guard. Every capable male citizen would normally serve seven years in the army while he was between 15 and 35 years of age. A typical army rotation was one year on and two years off. The Phoenicians used base 60 in their numbering system. The army was organized into sixty men to a platoon and ten platoons to a battalion. The first battalion was the royal guard, and five additional battalions comprised the regular army. The full citizenry could also be mobilized in an emergency Hannibal grimaced. Almost a third of the professional guards were killed? King Ethbaal would certainly consider this an emergency. There was no limit to the damage a civil war could do. If enough blood were spilt, the surrounding nations would attack, and if not that the slaves would revolt. It had happened before, and Hannibal deeply disagreed with how poorly the slaves were treated at the coastal cities. The branded slaves there had absolutely nothing to lose. Hannibal looked at Alvaro. "Where does the population stand?" Alvaro tried to sound both factual and encouraging. "By count, the farmlands under the control of your cousins are outnumbered two to one, twenty thousand to forty thousand. After the defeat of the royal guard this afternoon, most of the farmers decided to join your side. We also think you have a lot of sympathy with the fishermen and sea merchants. They just haven't had the opportunity to join you yet. And the slave issue is a big plus for you. King Ethbaal will have to maintain a force to guard against revolt. On your farms, the former slaves are enthusiastically helping prepare defenses." Hannibal sighed. "But the guard will remain fanatically loyal to the king. They are well disciplined and professional butchers of men. Four hundred of them could slaughter many battalions of farmers." Alvaro thought of the Spanish Conquistadors slaughtering great numbers of South American natives. "Yes, we know. My faction in Congress needed to stress that point before we reached agreement to continue our protection of the farmlands. This war is a direct result of our contact with you Hannibal. We thus share in the responsibility for its outcome. Just how much responsibility is being fiercely debated." Hannibal stared at him. "How do you people do it? I've seen individuals act with Greek agape, but never kings. How do you people do it?" Megan stared back at her friend, her eyes wide open in surprise and admiration. "My gosh Hannibal, you've done it! We're no longer gods to you, are we?" Hannibal looked at her, his eyes so filled with gratitude they were wet with tears. "I have so many questions, so many questions for you Megan..." He turned back to Alvaro. "But my questions can wait. What can I possibly do to help you in your debate with the other kings of Madeira?" Alvaro grinned. "Well, we do have some ideas. First of all, in your best opinion, what would happen if Madeira does nothing?" Hannibal answered at once. "That's easy. My cousins will put up a stiff fight and then surrender when their position becomes hopeless. Otherwise vast numbers of people will be put to the sword. And our social experiment of slave-free farming will come to an end, regardless of who wins." Alvaro nodded. "I suspected as much. And if he is victorious, will Ethbaal spare your cousins?" Hannibal answered immediately. "No, impossible. The king would kill me too if he ever had the power to do so, and my family. Even my infant son would be killed. Edom's twin daughters would be spared the sword, they're young enough, your daughter's age." He grimaced. "They will become branded slaves." Hannibal was shocked by a sudden memory. "The gods!" he thought silently. "Edom's wife was bringing the girls to Sidon today!" Alvaro sat there frowning. "Branded slaves?" His heart torn for a woman who was like a sister to him, Hannibal just shrugged, unable to continue, leaving it for Megan to explain. "There are two types of slaves in Phoenicia, slaves that can earn or be given their freedom, and branded slaves who by royal edict are slaves for life. They have burn marks on the outside of both forearms to show the difference. The branding is done by the king's guard. They use a hot copper rod with the king's mark at one end." Alvaro frowned in disgust. Megan finished the explanation. "The practice is almost unheard of in the farmlands, but there are a considerable number of branded slaves in the cities. Being a branded woman is the worst fate imaginable, especially if you're young and pretty, forced labor in the royal brothels." A moment of silence passed. Alvaro finally spoke. "Hannibal, tomorrow at the Congressional debate, I'm going to make a proposal that we support your effort to become the next king of Phoenicia. Are you agreeable with this?" Hannibal looked stunned and squeaked, "Me?" "Yes, you. As a sweetener, I'd like to tell Congress you're willing to abolish slavery throughout Phoenicia. That'll buy us a number of votes." Another long moment of silence. Hannibal gave a deep sigh. "King... It's every boy's dream, to be the ruler of his people. But as an adult, I've seen what the role does to a man. Of course I say yes to save my families. But I don't think I'll enjoy it." Alvaro smiled happily. "Excellent! Then you won't mind giving it up the job in a year or two?" Hannibal blinked. "To another king?" "No, to a new Congress! If you're willing, that's what my engagement faction will suggest tomorrow in the debates." Hannibal just stared at him. Alvaro continued, "We don't need to figure out all the details now. We just need to agree on the broad principle that Phoenician citizens will one day vote for their rulers." Hannibal took several deep breaths. Megan and Alvaro waited patiently. Finally Hannibal's eyes widened and he answered, "The gods Alvaro! Once that principle is established, what follows changes everything! The world is turned upside down. The rulers become the servants!" Alvaro laughed. "Brilliant Hannibal! I knew we picked the right man!" Hannibal finally nodded his agreement. "Another para digma shift for me Alvaro, my second one today." Alvaro shook hands with Hannibal's uninjured left arm and then turned to his wife. "That's all I needed to hear. I should get back to my faction. We have a long night of work ahead of us." Megan nodded and took a quick look at the storm still beating against the windows. "Stay dry!" She gave her husband a quick kiss before he departed. Hannibal stared at Megan. "I have so many questions, woman who is no longer a goddess, enough to fill a year." Megan nodded. "But we both need to sleep. Tomorrow will probably be a very big day for both of us. How about I try to answer a few and then we get some rest? Hannibal?" "Yes?" "There is much my country has decided not to tell you, at least not yet. I won't be offended by anything you ask, but I might not be able to answer." "Very fair." Hannibal thought for a moment. "This morning, the royal guard, they died so quickly. What killed them?" Hannibal was half expecting Megan not to divulge the secret of Madeira's military arts, but she replied immediately. "Imagine many tiny arrowheads all by themselves, no shafts, incredibly fast, designed to chew up boats that might approach our merchant ship. The arrowheads were designed to punch right through your wooden boats. They easily penetrated the leather armor of your guard." "How many?" "Arrowheads you mean?" Megan paused for a moment, thinking of the seven automated machine-gun stations on Urushalim Express, one at the bow, two at the stern, and two amidships on both the port and starboard sides. "From the four positions that were firing, perhaps a hundred arrowheads every second." She sighed. "Captain Silva... To save my life, he ordered the deaths of two platoons of guards." Hannibal nodded. "His decision saved both our lives. I am grateful to the man. Are the arrowheads made of metal?" "Yes. They have a core of copper with an outer shell of iron and some other elements that make the iron very hard and clean." "Clean?" Megan thought for a moment how the alloy-jacketed rounds and clean modern powders left almost no fouling in the gun barrels. "Uh, Hannibal, we would be getting into a lot of detail if I tried to explain this." "Oh. Okay. And now King Ethbaal has these arrowheads?" "Oh, don't worry about that. They're not particularly sharp. Their power comes from their speed. King Ethbaal has no way to fire them." Megan used the Phoenician word for firing an arrow from a bow. Hannibal sighed. "All right. And Alvaro mentioned another royal platoon was killed this afternoon?" "Yes." "Also by these arrowheads?" "No, by birds like Coke, only smaller. We've made a few dozen. One dozen is controlled from my ship. Urushalim Express has positioned itself one kilometer off Canaan's coast, intentionally remaining visible as a form of intimidation. The warbirds were controlled from there. They can fire a special kind of light, a light so intense it burns holes in anything it touches." "The guards were killed with light?" Megan nodded. "Yes. From what I understand, the king's guard never understood what was attacking them, never even realized they were being attacked from the air. The warbirds are the color of the sky, and can kill from great distances. And the light is invisible until it touches the target surface. Then there's a blinding flash and a drilled hole." Hannibal frowned. "But how can light be invisible? I don't understand." Megan yawned. "It would take a long time to explain." Hannibal took the hint. "Megan, why does Madeira want to help me? Why do you people care?" Megan nodded. "There's a lesson my people have learned through long and hard experience, that injustice for one is injustice for all. We have a vision of a future where all our children love and respect each other, your son and my daughter loving and respecting each other, all our children everywhere on Earth. We don't know if we can do this, but we want to try." Hannibal was quiet for a moment. He looked at Megan very skeptically. "No wars?" "Oh, I know. I'm not trying to sound naïve. I know how complex life can be, how complex morality can be... Hannibal..." Megan paused for a long moment and then sighed. "No, I can't tell you our history, not now, not yet. I'm sorry." Hannibal dismissed her apology with a wave of his left hand. "There is no offense. Of course you can't betray your people." Megan felt a brief pang of guilt. "If you only knew," she thought. She cleared her throat. "Well, I can say we have the power to make as much metal as we want. We don't have to mine the Earth for metals or... fuel for fires. One day perhaps the whole world will have this power." "Given by you?" "Taught by us. Then we will all be equals in ability. But there is so much that has to change first. All the warfare is terrible, but it's keeping the population stable. How can we teach people our knowledge without a runaway growth of people? How can we get people to push away their desire to dominate? Ten generations from now Hannibal, why should you or I care whether it's our children or our neighbor's children who are playing in the streets? Why should we care?" "What?" Megan took a deep breath and continued. "That's the challenge we're facing. How do we get rid of clans and tribalism? I don't mean getting rid of families or cultures. I'm talking about ridding the world of the dark human desire to dominate." Hannibal was silent and then nodded slowly. "I think I understand you, at least in part. Our children playing with each other? Have you stopped worrying then about Resheph?" "Plagues? Well, we've done a lot of screening these last two years, trying to find people who might carry diseases to you. We can't stay isolated from each other forever. Sooner or later we'll begin to mix." "And then spread the wrath of Resheph?" Megan shrugged. "We think we can stop the major sicknesses from spreading. As for the rest, it's a part of life. We can't stay apart forever." A sudden thought occurred to Hannibal. "Did Madeira suffer from his great rage too?" Megan nodded. "Yes, the great plague that hit you, it hit us earlier, almost twenty years ago." Hannibal blinked. "Ah. I see. So Resheph's rage started here." "In a sense, yes." "In a sense? Was it you who made Resheph angry?" A long hesitation. "I'm sorry. I can't be more specific." She yawned. A sudden thought occurred to Hannibal. "Megan, do you... does Madeira have the power to make Resheph angry, but have his rage fall only on their enemies?" Megan frowned as she thought of her old timeline's terrible history with biological warfare. "I guess we do." "So you don't need to share the world with us. You could stop future wars by having one final war now. You have the power to eliminate everyone outside of Madeira, don't you?" "A war to end all wars? That idea has been tried before. It doesn't work. We have a name for the horror. We call it genocide," she said, using the Portuguese word. "Sometimes I think there might be a few monsters in Congress who dream of it happening, but they're too embarrassed to speak of it." Megan shuddered at the concept. "Hannibal, I know your name means Grace of Baal. We have a similar concept with our religion, that we are all children created in grace by a God who is great without measure. For us to slaughter all the other people on Earth, just to keep Earth for ourselves..." "You could do this?" "I'm not sure. I'm ashamed to think that we probably could. But we would become monsters if we did, throwing away all our inheritance of God's grace. We would no longer belong to our God, and He would no longer own us. And with an empty Earth, we could live wherever we wanted." Megan closed her eyes, feeling sad and worn out. "But we would have no place to be." Hannibal looked at Megan closely and finally realized how sleepy she was. "One or two more questions? I know you're very tired." "Okay. Two." "Thank you. Your writing, your Portuguese, it has so many similarities to the new Phoenician script. I am at a loss to understand this. Why would Madeirans with godlike powers adopt the script of simple Phoenicia? I know what primitive savages we must seem to you." Megan gulped, realizing the ancient Canaanite priesthood was the original inventor of much of her modern alphabet. "You have a fine mind to see this Hannibal, but I can't answer your question." Hannibal was puzzled. After getting such detailed information on military capabilities, he had been expecting an answer. "What do you mean? You can't tell me because you don't know, or you can't tell me because you can't tell me?" She grinned. "The latter." "Ah. Okay. My last question then, another great puzzle to me. Megan, how long have the Madeirans had their godlike powers? I'm guessing many millennia." Megan thought for a while. "I'm not sure I know how to answer that." "Well, how long has it been since Madeirans used only sails and oars for their boats? How long have you had your magical flying abilities, the demons that pull your boats with invisible ropes or stir the water at the sterns?" "Ah, I get you now. We call our stirring demons propellers. Three hundred years I guess, less. Go back more than two hundred years, and there would be nothing about our boats you couldn't understand. We were using sailboats, maybe sails a bit more complicated than what you're used to, but nothing you wouldn't be able to figure out." Hannibal looked at her totally exasperated. "So short a time? Truly?" "Yes." "But why didn't you explore, find us and trade with us hundreds of years ago? I think the Egyptians have kept records for thousands of years, yet they never saw one of your sailboats. How could you resist exploring and finding us in the time when you were like us?" Megan sat there stunned. "My gosh Hannibal. That's really brilliant insight. I can't tell you the answer, and again the reason why is the latter." Hannibal's frustration was obvious. "Pity. The mystery vexes me." "Yes, it would vex me too." Megan stood up and stretched. "I'll try to get permission to tell you more, I promise." "Thank you." Hannibal sighed. "Ten generations of children? It's so amazing to think of it Megan. Can we do this, end all wars? It would be so interesting to see the ten generations, see what fruit grows from the seeds Madeira has planted in Phoenicia." "It would indeed." She yawned again and offered him her hand. "Goodnight my friend. We both need some rest." They held hands for a moment, expressing their affection for each other, and then Megan headed home. Hannibal shrugged off all his concerns and was soon fast asleep. ------- Chapter 19: First Samuel Early next morning, three hours before sunrise Time: Saturday, May 8, 2055 2:14 AM Alvaro came home very late. He was too tired for a shower, so he just washed his face, brushed his teeth, threw off his clothes and climbed into bed with Megan. She stirred and turned and began petting his head. Alvaro kissed a finger as it caressed his lip. "You're not asleep?" "Oh, off and on... I'm okay. You look exhausted. How did it go?" Alvaro paused for a second and then gave a quick nervous frown. "I think we have a compromise with the Isolationists that might work. We'll find out tomorrow." Megan's eyes opened wide in the darkness. "Yikes. I was hoping for something a little more optimistic than that." Her hand dropped and slowly stroked his nipples. "Yeah, well, we weren't the only ones up late tonight. I think our loyal opposition is still debating how they want to handle this..." He paused for a tired yawn. "We did get one issue resolved. Captain Silva will not be reprimanded for his actions today." "What?! For saving my life?" "No, not that. Everybody agrees the morning response was appropriate. I'm talking about the afternoon incident. Captain Silva killed another sixty of the royal guard and there were no Madeiran lives at risk at the time." Megan frowned. "Oh hell..." "President Philippe came to our rescue, said his rules of engagement allowed Captain Silva to make that kind of tactical decision..." Her husband gave a long, drawn-out sigh. "Hey, Alvaro," whispered Megan. "You okay?" "Oh, I..." There was a long pregnant pause, and then Alvaro whispered, "Oh Megan, sometimes I long for the days when my chief job was physicist." Megan said nothing for a while, then reached over and hugged her husband. "You're doing brilliantly as a Congressman sweetie, and I'm not trying to stroke your ego. I really mean it." Her husband leaned slightly and butted and then caressed her cheek with his nose. "The Isolationists were making much of today's poll. Sixty-one percent of Madeirans thinks we should be completely neutral in Phoenicia, leave completely, not even be there, sixty-one percent!" "Oh..." "I went and checked the results. It's true. For Porto Santo, the number's almost seventy percent." "Shit... What are people thinking of?" "A number of the Isolationists cornered me for a while, saying I had a responsibility to represent the will of my district. Seventy percent! Damn it Megan, they have a point..." Megan shook her head excitedly. "Hell, was it Churchill? It's better to do what is right than do what is easy. Something like that anyway. Alvaro, we both know we can't rely forever on our technology. Becoming an Isolationist, putting off our moral responsibility by saying it's the will of the people, that's taking the easy way out." Alvaro grimaced in the dim light. "It's not that simple. Dear God, how I wish it were. I long for the days when my problems were in physics. Everything was a great wonderful puzzle. Everything was so bright and clean." Megan looked at her husband with a puzzled look. "Clean?" "Yeah. In physics, the opposite of truth is contradiction and paradox. You can recognize truth in mathematics by how it interlocks with other truths. But in politics, in morality, the opposite of a profound truth is often another profound truth. It can be so damn confusing sometimes..." "Well, that's why you're such a good Congressman. You recognize this. You negotiate, compromise. Really Alvaro, people have an enormous amount of respect for your decisions..." "You're very sweet." "Not sweet, I'm right. Seriously Alvaro, our cause is just, and our means are just. There's nothing you've ever done that I'm not proud of. You are my hero as well as my husband." His eyes almost shut, Alvaro gave a small laugh. "Oh, be careful not to jack up my pedestal too high..." He gave a deep yawn. "Wow. I'm so sleepy..." Megan gazed in love at her tired husband. "Here, close your eyes. Let me pet you." She propped herself up and petted him very gently, soft hands at his face stroking his cheeks. "That's right. Just rest darling." Alvaro wanted to say something more but too exhausted to speak. Megan's hand dropped again to pet his stomach and abdomen, gently stroking his fur. Alvaro finally relaxed under the loving caresses. He purred and sighed. "Hmm. That feels nice." Megan started giving light, feathery kisses all over his body. "My husband, how I love you..." Alvaro relaxed completely under his wife's caresses, sighing in contentment and spreading his legs as her hand came to his groin. He felt soft, feathery pulls on his penis. He sighed deeply and floated in the pleasure, slowly becoming erect and falling asleep, both at the same time. And then the soft fingers left his cock and dropped to fondle his scrotum. "Hmm," he mumbled. He tried to tell Megan how much he loved her back but couldn't. Megan sat up and turned. "Shhh..." She began probing his scrotal sac with one hand and bringing his erection over to her mouth with the other. Her mouth descended and gave small, catlike licks to the head of the penis, very gentle. Alvaro sighed again in contentment. There. Her fingers had found what they were searching for, the tubular spermatic cords connecting his testes to the roof of his scrotal sac. She used her skills as a doctor, pressing her fingers inward and upward until the delicate ducts were lying pressed against the pads of her fingertips. With this intimate connection to Alvaro's sex organ, Megan had superb feedback on the state of his arousal and could guide him wherever she wished. More laps on the penis head, wetter this time, and then her lips suckled him into her mouth, locking him into the coupling with teeth behind the ridge of his glans. It was an oral embrace of pure pleasure and raw sexuality, but there was no hip thrusting in return from her husband. His deep breathing told her he was more asleep than awake, and she could feel his slow heartbeat on her fingers buried in his sac. She could also feel the dichotomy within his body, his relaxed muscles and the erect tension in his penis and sac. His testes were becoming tighter and eager to release their seed. She fondled the undersides of the orbs, teasing them to delay their ejaculations. Alvaro began to pant in his sleep, his sleeping mind and aroused body driven back to the wet dreams of his puberty. Megan waited until she felt Alvaro take a deep breath and shudder, and then with her fingers still pressing against his male ducts, she allowed the testes to lift into their ejaculatory position. She dropped a generous wad a spit on the penis head within her mouth, making it super warm and moist and slick, and then began a suckling motion, firmly working the sensitive skin with her lips and tongue. There was a deep groan from Alvaro, and then Megan felt the first pulse inside her husband's sac as he started to orgasm. She could feel his semen flowing against her fingertips inside his tubes, imagine it flowing through his ducts and up the rigid penis. Megan felt his male organ spasm inside her mouth, and then she tasted the generous deposit Alvaro started to give her. Megan had done this before. In her mind she called it a slip fuck. She could slip an orgasm right out of Alvaro's sleeping body without waking him. She drained him, maintaining the wet lip contact with his glans, stimulating him to flow, drinking him and suckling until at last the orgasm ended, his testes drained and relaxing limply against her fingers. She lapped and swallowed everything, licking the penis head clean as she felt the erectile tissue begin to soften within her mouth. Megan finally broke her oral lock as the penis wilted. She allowed it to flop to the side. Her mouth descended one last time, sweet kisses of goodbye to the spent orbs hanging loosely in the sac. She pulled a sheet over both of them and curled up with her husband, his arm around her waist and her rump pressed against his groin, joining him in his sexual contentment. Alvaro stirred only once, his hand coming up to cup a warm breast. Megan fell asleep in total peace. Two weeks later. Aboard the M.N.S. Urushalim Express, coordinates 33 degrees 34 minutes North, 35 degrees 42 minutes East Time: Saturday, May 22, 2055 1:30 AM UMT Ensign Megan Lopes came up on the port deck a few minutes before sunrise. The enemy hilltops four kilometers to the west were already catching the first rays of the morning. She took a second to admire the view and then walked to the starboard entrance area to welcome the ship's visitors. Their rowboat was less than three hundred meters away. Urushalim Express was anchored 600 meters from the eastern shore of a modest lake 840 meters above sea level and thirty kilometers due east of Sidon. The ship's location in another timeline was called Al Qirawn, a beautiful and isolated mountain lake roughly two by five kilometers in size. The large deep-sea merchant ship looked ridiculously out of place, an apparent prisoner in its tiny new home, and it was only through the use of dark power that it was able to reach the lake. It had flown here above the high mountains on a cloudy night thirteen days ago. The ship's presence was a complete bluff. Captain Silva was under clear orders not to engage any force that was not attacking Madeiran personnel. But so far the bluff had worked. Hannibal's forces were on the eastern side of the lake and King Ethbaal's army to the west, separated by the armed merchant ship and two kilometers of water. Both sides were eyeing each other warily but had not engaged. As the morning sunlight lit the lake, Hannibal and his two cousins and three other Phoenicians stepped on board. Megan smiled at her friend and gestured to his arm. "Today's the big day. The ship's infirmary will be all ready for you after the meeting." Hannibal glanced at his cast and gave her a brief return smile and nodded. "It's coming off just in time. You'll learn why at the meeting." A few minutes later eleven people were gathered below decks in the ship's situation room. Two walls had numerous displays of the surrounding area, showing the real-time positions of both the opposing armies. The views had proven invaluable to Hannibal and his army commanders over the last two weeks, and they sat silently studying the screens while they waited for Captain Silva to arrive. He had a habit of arriving ten minutes late to give the Phoenicians time to study the displays. After a few minutes, Hannibal thought he saw all he needed to know and leaned back in his chair and studied the room. Four women! He had been working with these people for two years now, and still couldn't get over the utter lack of gender roles among the Madeirans. At least Captain Silva was male, but a full half of the hundred crew of Urushalim Express was not. Hannibal had briefly been on Discovery over a year ago before Urushalim Express was launched. He had observed the same situation, had even met the female Captain Mendes. "A woman in charge of such a great warship?! Incredible! She certainly seemed competent though..." Hannibal sighed and thought. "But what would it be like for a man to serve under a woman? How can the Madeiran men tolerate this?" Hannibal had once asked Megan if all Madeiran ships had such a large complement of female crew. She replied that their fishing boats were probably mostly men, but even they had women who were fully accepted crewmembers. Megan also told Hannibal that Urushalim Express had a sister ship called Cosmic Azores with a half women crew. That ship was providing cargo transport to other Madeiran islands Hannibal had not seen. He asked Megan what the other ship's name meant. She just smiled and said it was a sort of private joke. Explaining how the ship was powered by cosmic dark energy would have been exceedingly difficult. Megan studied the displays as she waited for Captain Silva to arrive. Both sides had mobilized their populations. Almost every adult male citizen capable of fighting was in one of the two armies. The only exceptions were the deep sea traders who were currently outside the country. Megan thought it was difficult to see if either side had a clear advantage. Numerically King Ethbaal held a three to one advantage with his army, 5700 men compared to Hannibal's 1900, and the king's army had all the career soldiers. But the king had to maintain a show of force against a massed Philistine army south of Tyre, while Hannibal had negotiated a temporary non-aggression treaty with the Aramaeans to his east. And the issue of slavery was a nightmare to King Ethbaal. In addition to his army, Hannibal had over a thousand newly freed slaves who were doing everything they could to support him including training for warfare, while the slaves at the coastal cities were seizing every opportunity to make trouble for Ethbaal. And supplying his troops with adequate food over the mountains was proving to be very difficult, while Hannibal had the fertile farms of the Baka valley to the north behind his troops. There was also the issue of moral. Hannibal's proclamation to free all the slaves in Phoenicia had cost him a few defections to Ethbaal's side, but that loss appeared to be over and every night men and escaped slaves were coming over and joining Hannibal. Time was on Hannibal's side, as was the intimidating presence of Urushalim Express. Both sides knew the king could not withstand the gods' firepower. Fortunately there were only six Phoenicians who knew it was all a bluff, and they were all here in the situation room. Captain Silva had been Megan's ace in the hole. The man was a former isolationist who had had a change of heart after observing the treatment of the Phoenician slaves at the coastal cities. Aboard Urushalim Express were several seasoned hands that thirty years ago and in another timeline had served in the Swiss military, and Captain Silva had given them permission to act as advisors and trainers to Hannibal's army. In the captain's opinion, nobody did pike warfare better than the Swiss. Captain Silva finally arrived for the meeting. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Hannibal broke his news. "We have the king's plan from a defector and some confirming evidence. Ethbaal is planning an attack in four days, everything he can muster. His army will attack south of the lake just before dawn, after the night that Yarikh hides and turns his face full away." Captain Silva blinked and then realized Hannibal's mention of his god was a reference to the coming new moon. The captain glanced at a display for a moment. "In his position, I would have attacked ten days ago, at his earliest opportunity." Hannibal nodded. "Yes. He would have slaughtered us then with half the force he has now. My people are in your debt captain. With the wondrous iron spears you have traded to us, we now have a chance." The captain nodded. "Ethbaal's finally making the correct military decision, but for the wrong reason. Nighttime and predawn are the worst possible times to test us. We can see and he can not. But I'm under orders not to enter your war Hannibal." Hannibal nodded, remembering the fascinating night-vision displays he had seen a few days ago. "You have prepared us as best you could. I am hopeful of a victory. King Ethbaal will be attacking against an army using unfamiliar tactics. The pike is an extraordinary weapon when used in the manner we are being taught. The King will find a nasty surprise waiting for him, and will find it difficult to adjust his attack in the poor light." Megan frowned. "A withdrawal would be disastrous for King Ethbaal. The man will press the attack until his army breaks or is victorious." She sighed as she thought of the coming battle. It would be pure death or glory fighting. And the king's victory would result in a huge campaign of extermination against the defeated rebels and escaped slaves. Regardless who won, the deaths of many thousands seemed unavoidable. Unless... Megan blinked as she remembered an Old Testament story. "Sir," she asked addressing her captain, "what are our rules about transporting a Phoenician for a nighttime mission?" The captain considered. "Remember that the trading of the pikes was explicitly authorized by Congress. Without further orders, I can not enter this war." He paused for a moment. "I would consider a request if the mission were pure recon. The objective would have to pass the red-face test. I will not engage Ethbaal if he doesn't provoke me. I will not provide logistical support for any mission to attack the king or any of his resources. I would consider that engaging the enemy." Megan replied, "Sir, what if the mission involved a small resource of no military value, a single piece of clothing? It may save the lives of thousands if we can avoid the coming battle." There was a pause. "Explain." "Captain, I'm thinking of a story in the Bible, David having a dream that God would deliver his enemy into his hands." Her commanding officer was quiet for a long moment and then smiled. "The idea does have a certain amount of divine justice to it. Our presence stopped the original story from ever happening." He turned to the leader of the rebels. "Hannibal, if you had the opportunity to kill King Ethbaal, would you take it?" Hannibal looked confused by the question. "Of course." "And could you also choose not to harm him? I know he tried to assassinate you two weeks ago." "You mean forgive him?" "No, nothing that permanent. Let me explain..." Three days later. Time: Tuesday, May 25, 2055 5:38 PM Universal Madeiran Time It was two hours after local sunset and ten minutes after the king's guard had thoroughly searched the king's bedroom. Hannibal stood silently behind some thick curtains near the window, holding his razor sharp knife and working to control his breathing. Cool mountain breezes were rapidly making the bed chamber more comfortable for sleep. The king could arrive at any moment. The King's summer palace was built on the edge of a cliff. Hannibal had entered though the high window just a few moments before, dropped off by a two-seat Madeiran stealth flyer that was as silent as the night. There! He heard voices in the hall, and footsteps too. Four guards positioned themselves just outside the bed chamber, and then the King entered and closed the door. Hannibal was alone with his mortal enemy. And such an opportunity! The man came and stood by the window, drinking in the cool air and totally unaware of Hannibal less than three meters away. The dishonorable thought refused to die. Should Hannibal kill Ethbaal? One swift blow with the knife, break his oath to the Madeirans and kill him? What was Hannibal's honor compared to the life of his wife, his infant son, and all the thousands of people who were depending on him? He could avenge the death of Edom's wife, the disgrace of her body left rotting on a pole by the gates of Sidon. And yet... Megan! She had offered her life to save his. To betray her now was impossible. Hannibal waited silently, determined to follow the mission as planned. Through the curtain, Hannibal sensed the king turning, undressing, and climbing into bed. Hannibal worked on his own breathing, slow even breaths, his body as still and silent as possible in the blackness behind the curtain, one hand gripping the handle of the combat knife and the other gently holding the sides of the blade. Such a knife! Megan had told Hannibal it was mostly iron with some other metals mixed in. It was the exact same composition as the two thousand pike heads Hannibal had traded for food and wood from the Baka valley, most of which Hannibal had yet to deliver. Hannibal looked down, but the darkness was total and the knife invisible. Such a knife! Hannibal thought about the pike heads, a dull silver color but so sharp and flexible. When Megan first gave him the knife as a present a week ago, Hannibal had asked her if the wondrous metal had a name. She answered with the name ball-bearing steel. Hannibal asked her what that meant, and she just laughed and said it was spring steel with an attitude. That response confused Hannibal even more, so she told him the composition, a base of iron with 1.5% chromium, a metal unknown to Phoenicia, plus 1% carbon, and 0.35% each of silicon and manganese. Megan gave examples of these last three ingredients. Hannibal had been stunned. Mixing parts of different rocks and crystals with iron? What an unusual concept. He couldn't argue with the results though. The metal was terrific for both toughness and holding an edge. On the long hollow poles that Megan referred to as titanium tubes, the pike heads were a tremendously formidable weapon. So light! As Hannibal waited in the darkness for the king to sleep, his mind wandered back to the moment the Madeirans offered King Ethbaal the same offer for the metal that they had made to Hannibal. A pair of the latest model of what Megan called bluebirds had flown to the king twelve days ago. Hannibal had been with her in a deep cool interior control room of Urushalim Express, his eyes wide open as he stared at the displays giving him the multiple views out the bluebirds' eyes. To the utter dismay of Ethbaal, the birds offered the king a new metal if he would abolish slavery and agree to abdicate within two years. Hannibal broke into a big grin behind the curtain as he remembered the moment. The look on the king's face... Ethbaal had flown into a rage over the perceived insult to his royalty. He ran and grabbed a nearby bow and started shooting arrows wildly at the talking omens. The king was renowned for his skill with the sword but not the bow, and the bluebirds avoided his shots easily. Megan was controlling the bluebirds with something she called joysticks, and they also seemed to be able to dodge the arrows on their own. Megan kept repeating the message and the king kept firing arrows until he realized what a fool he was appearing to be before his troops. Megan then heaped a final insult upon his head, suggesting that if he changed his mind, the king should signal by hanging his royal cloak on a high pole to show his acceptance. Hannibal grinned again in the darkness. The king's only use of the high poles was to hang and display the slain corpses of his enemies. Megan had in effect suggested the king hang himself in effigy. Leaving the king in an apocalyptic fit, the bluebirds had then flown away. The king's cloak, such a magnificent piece of clothing. It was made from the finest Egyptian linen, dyed a royal purple by the king's personal craftsmen and richly trimmed with rare lion's fur and beaten gold from the Madeirans. It was the Ethbaal's great symbol of power and he was almost never seen in public without it. The cloak was in the room with them right now, draped over a chair near the window. Hannibal waited in silence and then smiled in relief when Ethbaal started to snore. Perfect. The noise would mask any slight noise Hannibal might make. He slipped from the curtain with the knife, quickly dismissed the thought of regicide one last time and went directly for the cloak. The knife worked silently, slicing through the rich fabric and gold threads easily. Hannibal cut a large triangle from the back of the cloak, its apex right up at the fur trim of the collar with a wide flair to the bottom hem. When he was finished, the cloak was completely ruined. Hannibal then walked with the cut segment of the cloak and stood by the window, confident his body heat would be visible to the strange arts of the Madeirans. The flyer was hovering a few centimeters from the window a moment later. Hannibal easily stepped into the waiting seat, and then the portal sealed and the craft lifted. The entire operation was done in complete silence, the loudest sound a deep shudder and sigh from Hannibal when the flyer was a kilometer from the palace. He was back at his own camp a few minutes later. ------- Chapter 20: Battle Royal One day later. Time: Wednesday, May 26, 2055 11:30 PM UMT It was two hours before dawn, but both armies had already been positioning themselves for hours. Hannibal stood with his second-in-command in the situation room deep within Urushalim Express. Around them were a number of the ship's officers, watching the displays with them. Captain Silva cleared his throat. "Hannibal, to preserve some semblance of neutrality, I'll have to ask you and Edom to leave the ship soon and return to your camp." Hannibal nodded. "Of course. You have my gratitude captain, and the gratitude of my people." Megan sighed as she watched the armies slowly preparing to engage. "Not the outcome I was hoping for," she mumbled. Edom turned and looked at her. "Did you really think Ethbaal would have a change of heart after his favorite cloak was destroyed? Especially with us displaying his gross incompetence to his own troops?" Ethbaal's triangle of cloak had been conspicuously displayed for the entire day, nailed to a cross of wood and shown for all the troops of both armies to see. "You missed the point cousin," mumbled Hannibal. "And what was the point?" Megan answered. "There's a story of an old king named Saul and a young warrior named David who would become the next king. Saul was jealous of David's youth and popularity with the people. He hunted David and wished to kill him. By chance or divine guidance, the king entered a cave alone to defecate, the very cave where David was hiding. Rather than kill his pursuer, David secretly cut off a piece of the king's cloak inside the cave and later showed it to Saul, proving that David did not wish to kill his king." "Ah," said Edom. "Did it work?" "For a very short time, yes. There was a brief reconciliation and peace. Then Saul began hunting again." "Humph," grunted Edom. "Well, Ethbaal is not an old king. He has no wisdom ... Saul and David? Sounds like the Israelites. When I was a boy and my father a helmsman, we traded with them sometimes, traded stories too. That was one story I missed." Megan gulped. "Uh, yeah..." Edom added quietly. "It was on a trip south that I first met my wife..." He shrugged. "Ethbaal took your gesture as a supreme insult. The cloak was his symbol of power. You speak of defecation? Ethbaal would have chosen to defecate before laughing women rather than lose it." Megan did not reply. She could see the bitterness in Edom's eyes. His beloved wife had been put to the sword and hung on a pole and his young daughters enslaved. "But," said Hannibal. "The mission was not without merit. Four of his most trusted guards have been executed for suspected treason and the man is furious in his desire for revenge. Look how foolishly he has positioned his personal guard at the very front of the line. Ethbaal's emotions should make his battle decisions today more quick tempered and easier to predict." After one last study of the infrared monitors Hannibal turned to Captain Silva. "I have seen enough. I think our victory is now assured. Again captain, you have the gratitude of my people." "Assured? Hannibal, I think the victory will fall to the army which is the most nimble and disciplined. I hope your troops have learned how strong the pike is in formation, and how weak in a melee. Your lines must not break!" "We have been drilled. In formation I think we are invincible. If we break, we are lost. This has been the constant message to the troops for the past ten days." The captain nodded and then gestured with his hand. "How's your arm?" Hannibal shrugged, thinking of the physical therapy the ship's doctors had started with him. "Still quite weak. I used to be a good swordsman too." "Your job is to command. I think your army is very fortunate you won't be tempted to join the battle." "Oh, I'll be tempted." Silva frowned. "But you'll resist that temptation, correct?" Hannibal paused and then nodded. "Correct, unless our situation becomes hopeless. I would prefer to die cleanly in battle rather than slowly under Ethbaal's tender mercies." Captain Silva paused for a second and then surprised Hannibal by saluting him. Hannibal and Edom returned the salute and headed to the ship's two flyers a moment later. Two hours later. Time: Thursday, May 27, 2055 1:20 AM UMT Ethbaal and his top commanders squinted through the drizzle in the predawn light, trying to make out the enemy positions. Hannibal's army seemed fully deployed, stretched out in a single thick line of perhaps 600 cubits. There would be no element of surprise this morning. Hannibal's forces were standing facing west part way up a large hill with a long and modest upward slope to their backs, with steep rocky ravines dropping away to the north and south. Ethbaal's commanders estimated the slope at perhaps one to twelve at Hannibal's position, and gradually becoming steeper behind him. Uriah the Hittite did not like what he was seeing. The king however was full of joy. "Look at their numbers! They must have everybody with them, the slaves too." He took a deep breath. "We have them all! This will be a great day of slaughter!" Uriah nodded respectfully and then tried to point out some of his concerns. "We will be racing uphill to attack, and it will be very difficult to flank the enemy. The slope falls away sharply on both sides." "Uriah, why should I flank?" the king asked in a puzzled tone. "We don't have the archers for that anyway. But the beast is right before us. A direct thrust is what's needed here, swift and lethal, a blow to the head, and then a thrust into its heart. We will attack the heart of the enemy as soon as we have more light. And our swords won't rest until the heart stops beating!" Uriah studied the tight enemy formation. "Nice of them to gather themselves so neatly for their own butchering, don't you think?" He was trying to be sarcastic and get the king to think about why Hannibal would chose such a location and dense configuration for his stand. His army had a very poor escape route. Once Ethbaal engaged with his superior forces, Hannibal's army appeared positioned to be sliced and then shredded with no place to run. But why would the man pick such a spot? It just didn't make sense. The commander's sarcasm went completely unrecognized. "Yes! Indeed I do!" the king shouted to Uriah's earlier comment. "And look Uriah, no cavalry at all! Do you detect a single warhorse?" The king had been a cavalryman himself in his youth, and Uriah conceded the point. "No, I do not, and they have no place to hide cavalry either. The enemy is all on foot." The Hittite commander then turned and looked at Ittobaal nearby for some help with his concerns, but the king's Right Hand averted his eyes, silently keeping his own counsel. The king enthusiasm would remain unchallenged. "A great day for slaughter then Uriah, you must agree." "A great day, my king." Uriah sighed. Yesterday had been a very difficult day. He was forced to execute four men he had known and trusted for years, the four royal guards entrusted with guarding the king's bed chamber. Uriah still didn't understand what could have happened. To think that all four fell asleep was preposterous. To think they were all traitors seemed equally ridiculous. Yet what other explanation was there? And now this huge battle. Uriah's instincts were screaming at him that he didn't understand the mind of his enemy. From that fact alone, on his own he would have called off the attack against his enemy's apparently hopeless position. But it was not his decision to make. The grayness of the predawn brightened a bit and the king started laughing hysterically. "Do my eyes deceive me Uriah?! Are those javelins the Hannibal scum are carrying?" Uriah's own eyes went wide with astonishment. "Yes! The gods! Look at their length!" he blurted out. "A full eight cubits at least!" "Yes! What a joke! What would you do Uriah, if you had such a spear and I attacked you with a sword?" "Run away of course. But my king, surely the rebels must have some logic for choosing this absurd weapon." The king was having none of it. "Ridiculous! We will soften them with a melee, and then my horses and swordsmen will be a great scythe in their retreat. What sport it will be, to watch their ridiculous spears fight against my fine swordsmen! A day of glory is before us Uriah! We will be harvesters of men!" "My king," Uriah started, but it was too late. A large pole was being raised just behind the enemy lines. On it was stretched a large triangle of purple cloth. The king was speechless for a moment, and then went livid. "Full attack Uriah, and sixty shekel weight of gold to the man who brings me Hannibal's head and cock!" A moment later across the valley... "Looks like they're giving the final attack orders," commented Edom. Hannibal nodded and gave an arm signal to a beater. Here on the narrow slope, he would be directing his army with a drum. The moment of judgment had arrived. A stray prayer to Yamm crossed his mind, god of the sea and judge of the dead. If Hannibal did fall in battle today, he prayed the Madeirans would at least find his effort worthy and noble. Hannibal was sure they were watching this battle from all perspectives, and perhaps in ways beyond his imagination. And he was perfectly correct. From numerous high-resolution bluebirds colored gray and flying in the mist above, the Madeirans had a view of everything in fine detail. What they saw was a great dichotomy, forces separated not just by the valley below but also by two thousand years in equipment and tactics. Captain Silva did not want Hannibal to feel cocky, but he also shared the leader's confidence that with correct decisions and discipline, Hannibal should be the victor. Silva also knew that after the chaos of war, the words "should" and "should have" were the words of the vanquished, not the victors. Ethbaal's army was one of the largest armed forces assembled anywhere on Earth in the six years since the plague. The king had virtually stripped his country of all the adult citizen males. He had a single battalion of 600 men bluffing the Philistines not to attack at Tyre and another single battalion barely keeping the slaves from revolting in the other towns along the Canaanite coast. Except for the mentally feeble and old, almost every other man was here. Facing Hannibal were nine full battalions of Ethbaal's citizen army, 5400 men armed with axe, knife, and mace and even a few swords. At the very front were forty professional swordsmen from first battalion, first platoon, pulled from the king's personal guard. The main army had cheered these great warriors as they took their frontline positions just before the charge, taking the gesture as a measure of supreme confidence from their king that they would be victorious. They did not realize the placement was a punishment for allowing Ethbaal to be humiliated through his torn cloak. When at full strength, the king's first battalion consisted of ten platoons of professional soldiers of sixty men each. First platoon was his personal bodyguard, and then three platoons each of archers, swordsmen, and cavalry. But in the horrible battles of two weeks ago, two platoons of archers and one platoon of swordsmen had been completely annihilated by the strange and awful magical arts of the Madeirans. It had taken two weeks of timid probing for the king to decide that the magicians would not attack again. Ethbaal's battle plan was simple and correct for the era. With an army far superior in both numbers and fighting skill, he should seize the opportunity to crush his concentrated and inferior foe. The primary mission of the citizen battalions was to mix with Hannibal's forces and create a chaotic melee, thousands of individual contests. Through the turbulence Ethbaal's cavalry and swordsmen would move at will, slaying their opponents in great numbers. And when the pain and loss became too great and the enemy broke and ran, their doom was sealed. More men were typically killed in the disorganized retreat than in the initial battle itself. Hannibal's army would be slaughtered. There was a large division in the occupational backgrounds of the two citizen armies. Ethbaal's battalions were comprised mostly of town folk, both fishermen and tradesmen who practiced warfare with blade and mace. There were comparatively few archers in their ranks, and Ethbaal was a firm believer of a war saying his father had taught him, that at close range an archer is an unarmed man. The mission of the shock troops was to rush through the lethal range of Hannibal's arrows as quickly as possible and engage his forces with axe and mace. Ethbaal definitely did not want his citizen army to get bogged down in a long-range shootout with Hannibal's superior archers, and then leave it to his precious swordsmen and infinitely precious cavalry to bridge to gap. Based on this thinking, Ethbaal had purposely stripped the few archers in his main army of their bows. The army must have no choice but to sprint across a volley or two of arrows and then overwhelm Hannibal's archers. Ethbaal's sole force of archers was the tenth platoon of his professional army. He had split the force into two groups of thirty and assigned them the minor task of staying at the sides of the battle once the melee started. Their job was to shoot and kill deserters, anyone from either army trying to flee down the steep sides of the ravines to the north and south. Hunting was an important activity for many of the farmers in the Baka valley, providing the meat of various small mammals and many species of migratory birds for their families. Half of Hannibal's freemen were so good at archery that it was their first choice of weapon for battle. Nearly every other freeman and all the slaves had become pike men and had trained with the weapon for the last two weeks. They were positioned in a classic Tercio formation, six to seven ranks thick of pike men three hundred files across, stretching across the sloping hill from one ragged ravine to the other. The front face of the line was incredibly strong against anything except projectile weapons. The classic points of weakness of the Tercio were the two ends of the line. The problem was well recognized by medieval times, and many solutions had been tried. Among the most common solution was the "pike and shot" checkerboard formation, anchoring the edges of the pike line with as many musketeers and bowmen as possible in order to prevent a flanking attack on the line's vulnerable sides. Hannibal had spread his archers in back of the entire length of the pike line, with extra concentrations at both ends near the ravines. Armed with bow, mace and axe, the archers had perhaps the most complex job of the force. They had drilled that their first priority was to protect the pike men from attack after a breach in the line. The pike men's job in such an event was not to fight the penetrators but to work to restore the pike line. The archers would swarm and engage the enemy with all their weapons. If the pike men failed to seal a major breach before the cavalry arrived, Hannibal's army was doomed. Without a breach, the archers were free to stand above and behind the pike men on the hilly slope and fire at will into the opposing army held at bay. If possible, they were instructed to fire at targets near the edges of the line, as extra protection against a flanking attack. It was Hannibal's great hope that a decisive blow could be delivered to his opponent before the attackers realized their situation, stopped their charge and retreated. The pike would be a surprise weapon for only one battle. Hannibal couldn't have asked for better weather. The rocky ground was slippery from the overnight rain, and the rough rocks were more ragged than they looked. This would slow down the attacker's charge. Hannibal hoped the thin mists and the chaos of the warfare would make difficult for Ethbaal to see and react to the casualties his army would take. A great wave of running humanity reached the bottom of the hill two hundred meters distant and began to flow up the hill. The roar of almost six thousand men was fearsome, and Hannibal blinked in surprise as his keen eyes recognized the regalia of so many of the king's personal guard as the lead runners. The killer wave approached with maddening quickness and even seemed to accelerate. The moment of battle was upon them. Hannibal's archers held their fire as ordered as the wave closed the final gap. All of the pikes were being held straight up, and the pike men holding them appeared completely defenseless to the onrushing mass and ripe for the slaughter. The attacking army raised their swords and axes high and sprinted to attack as fast as they could. The hill was covered by a fast and dense river of warriors flowing uphill. And then the river of men passed the tiny strips of yellow markers the pike men had laid out ninety cubits in front of their line. It was the signal to drop and brace the pikes, one fluid motion completed seconds before the attacking surge hit the line. Two hundred attackers at the very front of the wave found themselves running headlong into an impossibly dense wall of two thousand deadly pikes, more than six pike heads for every linear meter of line. There was no time to stop or even to think. Propelled by the runners behind them, the first wave slammed against the wall of death. Their short shields sometimes deflected one pike or maybe two but never enough. Two hundred men were skewered within seconds and a great agonizing death cry rose from their ranks. It was the signal for Hannibal's nine hundred archers to fire two deadly volleys of arrows into the opposing army beyond the wall of death. And then Hannibal's army began a slow retreat up the hill. The pike heads were long and thin for the first half cubit, razor sharp steel designed to penetrate any armor and deliver a lethally deep puncture wound. The head then curved into a wide flair, preventing the pike from becoming stuck in its target. With practiced swift jerks of the wrist, the pikes were freed from their old victims and available for fresh ones as the line marched backwards. A physical shock wave flowed back against the river of humanity flowing up the hill. The air was filled with horrible screams of agony, not from the dead warriors killed by the pikes but by the hundreds of men felled by the arrows. The shock wave caused many to trip and fall, slowing down and causing the remaining wave to become less dense. It was exactly what Hannibal wanted. Almost all of the witnesses to the first wave of pike slaughter lay dead or gravely wounded from multiple arrow strikes. They had no time to warm their fellow warriors racing by of the terrible power of the pike line. A second wave of humanity stumbled across the dead and dying of the first attack and threw themselves against the line, trying to break Hannibal's organized forces into a chaotic melee. A second terrible wave of pike death befell the attackers, followed by another twin volley of arrows to kill the witnesses. Hannibal's army walked back again, hoping to reset for a third round of slaughter. And it did work a third time, and a fourth. Less than three minutes into the battle, there was a shocking amount of carnage on the hill, more than two thousand lay dead or gravely wounded, the men piled up in an area 600 cubits by 200 cubits in size. On parts of the hill, the bodies lay packed so closely together, the ground below became saturated with blood and was not even visible. It wasn't until the fifth wave that the surging river of men paused as the attackers tried to adjust to the meat grinder they were caught in. Those in the center of the hill were in a hopeless position. Behind the citizen army were two platoons of the king's swordsmen and three platoons of cavalry, three hundred professional warriors with orders to slay any deserter who froze or tried to run back. A great agonizing cry of pain and despair rose from the hill as the fifth wave of attackers met their awful fate against pike and arrow. The attacking flow began to break down and become more disorganized as the reflecting shock waves against the pike line rippled down the hill. Through the mists and the dim morning light, Ethbaal and his commanders had no idea that the screams of agony were coming only from their own troops. The professional army continued to herd the shock troops in front of them to their deaths. And Hannibal's line continued to fall back and clear the pike line of the carnage it was creating. Completely misunderstanding the situation, Ethbaal started to laugh uncontrollably with the thrill of his victory. On both sides of the hill, loyalist fishermen and tradesmen near the ravines threw away their weapons and began to climb down the steep rocks to escape the horrible death of the battle. On the north side, the thirty royal archers of the king began firing at the unarmed deserters, slaughtering the helpless men without mercy. The cruelty of the archers infuriated the nearby loyalist citizen army and they turned on them. Soon a roaring secondary battle was taking place. Hannibal wasn't so fortunate on his southern flank. The half platoon of king's archers saw the great flow of deserters but also saw the organized ranks of pike men and moved in to engage them. There were brief fierce exchanges of arrows with Hannibal's far more numerous archers. Before it was over thirty men lay dead or seriously wounded on both sides. The professional cavalry and swordsmen couldn't believe what was before them. The citizen army seemed to have melted away to the north and south. In front of the king's men lay three hundred cubits of utter carnage, and beyond stood Hannibal's army intact. Loyal to their king, the cavalry charged and the two platoons of swordsmen sprinted behind, ignoring the wounded still caught on the hill. The carnage on the ground was greatly in Hannibal's favor. No rider had ever experienced such a concentrated area of pure death underfoot. More than a third of the 180 horses tripped and fell during the charge, either from the blood-slick slope or by impaling a hoof on the numerous axes and blades scattered across the land. An equal number of mounts were killed or disabled by two dense volleys of arrows fired from Hannibal's archers. And then fifty riders charged directly into the upturned pikes of the line. It was shear and utter pandemonium. Almost all the horses were killed instantly by multiple deep pike wounds to the chest and neck areas. But the momentum of their charge caused many of the skewered horses to hurl into the pike men or even pole-vault over the line and to crash on the other side, often crushing their former riders. The intensity of the carnage shocked both armies, and for a moment there were numerous breaches in the pike line. The southern and northern parts of the line quickly reformed, but in the center where the cavalry had focused their charge, Ethbaal finally got the melee he desired. The air was thick with arrows as his remaining two platoons of swordsmen fell upon the disorganized pike men. Archers from the north and south rushed to the center to defend the breach. Ethbaal continued to laugh insanely as he raced through the carnage with his sword raised and his dozen remaining personal guard sprinting by his side. His mind lost all contact with reality. It was impossible for him to lose, thus all the carnage around him must be Hannibal's forces. And his swordsmen were fighting in the melee just ahead! Victory! But where were all his cavalry?! His feet and legs covered in bloody muck, he continued to make his way up the hill, his wild eyes darting left and right looking for the loyal subject who would bring him Hannibal's head and cock. Despite their bravery and skill, the last two platoons of swordsmen were no match for the many hundreds of archers who were firing on them. The pike men, the slaves in particular, were also fighting fiercely, practicing their trained skills of banding together and skewering isolated attackers. By the time the king reached the front line, he and his dozen bodyguards were the only royal force left on the hill. The two mismatched opponents eyed each other in shock for a moment, neither quite believing their separate fortune and misfortune. It was the slaves who recovered first, carrying their pikes and rapidly descending in two pincer movements to cut off the king's escape. Hannibal might have spared the guard, probably not the king but perhaps the members of his guard. But he was preoccupied a hundred meters distant. His cousin Edom had bravely attacked the king's swordsmen in the melee, and during the peak of the short battle Edom's stomach had been sliced open. He was dying in the arms of a crying Hannibal. The slaves moved to tighten their ring around the king's men. The reality of his fate finally came crashing down on Ethbaal's bewildered mind. How had such a thing come to pass? He stared at the army of pike men and archers around him and wailed in despair. Ethbaal then turned to his most trusted guard and valet and pleaded, "Slay me!" "My lord?!" "I will not let this scum defile my living body! I order you to slay me!" But the terrified man couldn't do it, so with a wild glassy look in his eyes, Ethbaal fell upon his own sword. Seeing his king dead, the valet followed his example into eternity. Aboard the M.N.S. Urushalim Express. A dozen officers were gathered below decks in the ship's situation room, staring at a number of monitors. Captain Silva gave a deep sigh. "So, I guess history can repeat itself after all." A fellow officer nodded and whispered, "The end of First Samuel, the death of Saul, yes, spooky how similar this is." Megan spoke up. "Captain, the war is over. People are dying out there. Request permission to disembark and treat the wounded." The answer came quickly. "Request denied." "Sir?!" "We are under explicit orders not to get involved without further authorization from Congress." "But sir," "Our orders are clear Ensign." Megan gave a strangled cry. "I may be an animal doctor, but I'm still violating my medical oaths if I stand idle now. Captain..." "Ensign, request denied." There was a moment of tense silence, and then Silva's voice softened. "Megan, I understand your plight, but you'll have to violate either your medical oath or the oath of your commission. And if you violate the latter, you may well sabotage all the work the Engagement faction is doing at Funchal. If Congress feels they've lost control of their military, it'll be decades before we associate with the Phoenicians again." He paused and then added, "Give Congress time to make the right decision." Megan grimaced and nodded her head. Back on the hill... The remaining few guard were packed into a tight circle, surrounded by enemy archers and pike men at the bottom of a great U shape. The pike men were growling at their former masters, but the archers were sure of their victory and not particularly menacing. It was unclear what would happen if the swordsmen pleaded for mercy. But then a captain roared and charged the army of archers, and in trained obedience the rest followed. The next few seconds proved the complement of Ethbaal's truism, that at long range a swordsman is an unarmed man. Three hours later. Time: Thursday, May 27, 2055 4:51 AM UMT The lone man sat with his sword in his lap, perfectly motionless near the bottom of the valley, his legs folded beneath his torso in lotus fashion. He had been so still that incredibly no one had noticed him for over three hours, even though he sat with his back perfectly vertical and upright. But then the cry went up, and five minutes later Hannibal and a small group of archers approached. Hannibal signaled the archers to stand back, and he walked alone until he stood a mere ten cubits from the last of the king's men. The man surprised Hannibal by slowly rising in a fluid motion, letting his sword fall to the ground. He then formally bowed and said, "Do not misinterpret me. I am not asking for mercy, only saluting you for your campaign." "I'm not here to kill you Uriah." Hannibal's comment seemed to sail completely over the Hittite's head. The man stared into Hannibal's eyes. "I did enjoy this last morning, watching the Madeirans and their healing magic. There is one goddess in particular. Her work is truly divine, first with the humans and now with the horses. Is she the goddess of the hunt and wild animals? Is she the wife of Eshmun?" Uriah was referring to the Phoenician god of healing. "Megan?" Hannibal smiled. "I know what you mean. I was as surprised as you were." "Megan the ambassador? That was the goddess I saw?" Hannibal nodded. "Yes, such skill, saving both men and beasts from certain death." "Skill?" Uriah looked momentarily confused. "But she is a goddess." He looked at the sky and gave a small shrug. "No matter." The dawn mists had cleared long ago and now the sun was due east and almost halfway up the sky. It was turning into a hot sunny day. Somehow that pleased Uriah. He thought he would rather die in the light than in the darkness. "Do you know the fate of Ittobaal?" asked Hannibal. Uriah lowered his head. "No. The Right Hand was like smoke, slipping through fingers at the start of the battle." He paused for a moment and added. "I'm not trying to protect him. I truly don't know." "I believe you." Uriah stared at the sky again. "You know, I've lived my whole life and never realized till this morning how beautiful clouds can be." He took a deep breath. "How stupid of me. But I've had some enjoyable time beyond my allotment, enough time to correct my mistake. I thank you for that Hannibal." "Uriah, I have no wish to kill you." The rebel's words finally sank in. Uriah frowned and lowered his head to stare at the man before him. "Don't toy with me Hannibal. It's beneath you." "Uriah, why should I want to kill you? The war is over. You are my countryman again." Hannibal signaled for his archers to stand down. He walked the remaining distance to Uriah and in a show of trust put his open hand upon the man's shoulder and said quietly, "Come. Pick up your sword and sheath it. We have a country to rebuild." Uriah the Hittite stood rigid for a long moment, and then did something he hadn't done in years. He began to weep. ------- Chapter 21: Sonic Birds Go Flying By Three weeks later. Time: Friday, June 18, 2055 7:38 PM UMT Hannibal sat with Megan, Alvaro, and their five-year old daughter Kelsey on their condo balcony on the main island of Madeira. They were all enjoying an after-dinner plate of spicy pepper goat cheeses and assorted crackers, and the adults had glasses of cool amber-colored wine. There was a delightful southern breeze blowing off the deep ocean, clean and salty. The sun had set a half hour ago and the last of the evening twilight was just fading from the sky. The last quarter moon would not rise for hours, but there was still plenty of light to admire the scenery. The lit garden campus of Funchal University was spread out before them to the east. Hannibal sighed and idly wondered how many opportunities he would have in his future to see such idyllic beauty and smell the deep ocean, an odor that two short years ago had been so familiar to him. Was it really only two years ago that he first met the Madeirans? He munched another small wedge of cheese with a cracker and sipped his wine, gazing over the city lights. And there! There was the hospital where he lay wounded just a month ago. Hannibal stretched his healed arm and shook his head in amusement. "What Hannibal?" asked Megan in Phoenician. "Worried about tomorrow?" "What? No. I was just thinking how nice it is to see the deep sea again. The smells of Canaan's coast are quite different. The ocean is so clean here, and more wild and free in its power." Alvaro spoke up. "If you change your mind and want to address Congress in Phoenician tomorrow, Megan's offer to interpret still stands." Hannibal nodded and replied slowly in Portuguese. "I know. Such kindness. But I've been rehearsing for a week. I'll be fine. And it's important that they see me making the struggle... no, sorry, making the effort to talk in their native tongue." He switched back to Phoenician. "So, you two said you had something to discuss?" Megan nodded and then looked at her husband. "Come Kelsey!" he said, "It's been a big day, and there's another one coming tomorrow. Time for bed." Kelsey nodded and kissed and hugged her mother goodnight and then surprised Hannibal by kissing his cheek too before retiring with her father to her bedroom. Hannibal sighed as they left. He and Megan relaxed and enjoyed their view in silence for several minutes, and then Hannibal commented, "Kelsey... What a delightful daughter you have." "Oh yes. Playful too, much more than I ever was when I was her age. But she's had a much gentler start in life." Hannibal looked at Madeira's chief ambassador very carefully. "Ah, a reference to your own childhood Megan. Thank you." He hesitated for a moment. "I know how careful Madeirans are concerning their history. I don't mean to pry for information I shouldn't have, but... Was your childhood difficult?" Megan sighed and nodded. "My family was fine. They loved me. But other parts of my childhood were filled with death." "Ah. Well, it's a natural part of life." "Violent death." "Oh." Megan took a deep breath. "Hannibal, I can share my childhood memories with you now. By a 57 to 43 and 9 to 4 district vote, Congress has with condition authorized us to tell you our history. That's why Alvaro was late for dinner." Hannibal eyes lit up. "What's the condition?" "That you tell no one without additional Congressional approval." Hannibal was astonished. "That's all? They will accept my word?" "Yes. Alvaro was trying for an amendment where that wouldn't even be necessary, but yes, they'll accept your word. Think of it as an experiment, an experiment in trust." "I am grateful. What do I have to do?" "Just pledge your word to us when Alvaro gets back. Ah, here he comes now." Alvaro walked back out on the balcony. "Back so soon?" his wife asked. Alvaro nodded. "After she washed up and brushed her teeth, I told her I needed to come back here. Kelsey said she would read her storybook a bit and promised not to eavesdrop." Alvaro sat down and the conversation turned serious. After receiving Hannibal's pledge, Alvaro and Megan spent the next hour describing almost all their history but leaving out Megan's critical role in creating the temporal backscatter resonance that brought them back to 1107 BC. Hannibal sat like a sponge, absorbing everything and asking very little until they were finished. He gave a deep sigh. "I remember two years ago, saying goodbye to Kelsey. She asked me to bring her an elephant. Such an odd request. I didn't know what to make of it." Megan answered. "She was referring to another Hannibal, a famous general who crossed mountains called the Alps with elephants. In our old timeline, that didn't happen until nine hundred years from now." "Your daughter mistook me for someone else?" Megan shook her head. "No. My daughter was trying to make a joke. She has a very playful sense of humor." Megan sighed. "You see our dilemma. We want to spare this version of Earth from the rape it suffered in our original timeline. That means transferring our technology to all the people here. But how do we do that without getting into the same awful problem that was killing us?" Hannibal nodded slowly. "Your power can also be used to destroy." Megan frowned at the intractable problem. "Yes. As a king, you're a very unusual exception right now Hannibal. Most of the Earth right now is ruled by bloody-thirsty warlords, in spite of the massive deaths six years ago." "You see our dilemma, don't you?" Alvaro asked, echoing Megan's earlier comment. "With all our technology, we're still outnumbered 250 to 1, and if the technology gets out too soon, we might be attacked with our own weapons. We're playing a very dangerous game. And once our secrets are out, there's no going back. We'll only get one shot at this." Megan spoke up. "In our old world, small bands of fanatics had access to tremendous destructive power. And they had a completely dark vision for what they wanted the future to look like, full of rigid religious restrictions. It was a future full of control and bereft of compassion for anyone who disagreed with them." Hannibal stared at Megan and Alvaro with distraught eyes. "And they were willing to die for such darkness?" Megan answered. "Oh yes. There was no cure for the Satan Bug. Many of its designers must have died by their own creation." "And you fear the same thing could happen in this world?" "Of course. Look at Ethbaal. Imagine he had not just a sword, but a sword and a bottle of a new Satan Bug, one that would kill not just him but everyone he hated, everyone on the hill, and perhaps everyone else as well." Megan stared at Hannibal with penetrating eyes. "What would he have done Hannibal?" Hannibal was silent for a moment and then shuddered. "Yes, I have seen it myself. Hate can strip the love from a person's dreams." After a while his hand came up and touched his cheek. "And yet I remember the softness and kindness of Kelsey's kiss. Such a strange world we live in, to hold such goodness and such evil, both as the same time." He turned and stared at Megan and Alvaro in the dim light on their balcony. He appeared to be troubled. "So you are oracles then?" Alvaro was puzzled. "What do you mean?" "You come from the future. You know what's going to happen." Alvaro blinked. "No, Hannibal, no. It's not like that at all. The temporal singularity... Sorry for using Portuguese words but I don't know what to call it in Phoenician. The temporal singularity did not occur in our own past. Believe me, our people have been struggling with this concept for the last six years. Two of our most prominent religious figures have yet to be born, and now from a physics perspective they never will be. People here have been soul searching their faiths for the past six years, trying to come to terms with this." Hannibal stared at Alvaro with a puzzled look, clearly half understanding at best. Alvaro continued. "Our future is as open and undetermined as our intuition tells us it is. It always will be. There will never be true oracles. The physics forbids it." Hannibal sank back in his chair to think and said nothing for a while. Eventually he reached out to the plate of snacks and idly ate another cracker. "There is also another matter, one I wanted to discuss with you. I thought I'd bring it up after my speech tomorrow, but perhaps now is the better time." Alvaro raised his eyebrows and nodded for him to continue. Hannibal paused for a long moment, struggling with how to make his proposal. "You people have given us so much already, but... Megan, Alvaro, I want to ask for something more. I want to make a start mixing our two peoples together." Alvaro sighed. "That would be wonderful, but probably at least a few years away." Hannibal shook his head. "No. I don't think it's too early to start now. What if we started the exchange with a very small number, one and two people?" Alvaro thought for a moment. "Go on." "Edom's twin daughters Adah and Naomi. They lost both their parents in the war. The death of their mother was brutal. They were forced to watch. And their father died in the last day of the war." Alvaro nodded. "I remember. Were they branded?" "Thank the gods no. Ethbaal was hoping to capture Edom alive and have the pleasure of forcing the father to see the official enslavement of his daughters. The girls' arms are undamaged." "How old are they?" Megan spoke up. "Almost exactly Kelsey's age. They were born during the plague times. Hannibal, what are you suggesting?" "That the twins become citizens of Madeira. There are so many orphans in Canaan now, both from the war and from the plague. It would be a gift to us if you care for two of our orphans. And I know my... Alvaro, what do you call daughters of cousins in Portuguese?" Alvaro answered, "They're your first cousins, once removed." "What? Seriously? That sounds so odd, almost cold." Alvaro shrugged. "Yeah, well, what can I say?" Hannibal shrugged back. "Anyway, I know the girls' characters. They are both very smart, a bit wild but with hearts that are noble and true. They will be good representatives of my people. And they will represent the future of our nations together." Alvaro paused for a long moment. "Well, they're the right age to start school here. Do they speak any Portuguese?" "A very little. These last few weeks, I've tried to teach them what Megan taught me. But they're fine linguists; speaking easily in both Phoenician and the tongue of their Hebrew mother. I don't think language will be a problem. Alvaro, Megan, I've already asked the girls. They're very willing and have pledged their obedience. Will you act as their parents if they come here?" Alvaro surprised Megan by turning to her and saying with a playful smile, "Well, it's not as if we have much else to do." "Alvaro, do be serious! I take it by your humor this appeals to you?" Alvaro blushed at his wife and nodded. "We should have some long talks about this, and invite Kelsey into some of them too, but at first thought, yes..." An alarm bell went off in Megan's mind at the mention of her daughter. "Hannibal! You mentioned this as an exchange of one and two people. What did you mean?" "Well, my first thought was, my removed cousins would live here, and perhaps Kelsey" "What?! No! Absolutely not!" Hannibal blinked. "I didn't mean to offend." Megan took a deep breath. "Sorry. You're right. You said nothing that was offensive." Hannibal tilted his head. "Are you worried about Kelsey's safety?" "Among other things, yes." Alvaro broke in. "Hannibal, Kelsey will be starting school a month from now. It's extremely important. She can't miss her education." "Ah, her training, yes. I did not consider how extensive her learning time must be." He paused for a long moment. "Adah and Naomi would also get this training?" Alvaro nodded. "If they were our adopted daughters, of course." "How long does it last?" "Probably sixteen years at least, perhaps more if they choose advanced professions." Hannibal's eyes went wide. "Seriously?!" "Totally." Hannibal thought for a moment. "This schooling, the schedule, what's it like?" Megan replied. "You know about the months of our calendar Hannibal. Children go to school ten months a year in two five-month sessions, starting when they're six years old. There are two five-week breaks starting the weeks of the summer and winter solstices. The breaks are called independent activities periods, where the children pick something to study on their own." "Ah, so Kelsey will start school in late July?" "Yes. She'll be turning six in a couple of weeks. School will start for her on July 26th. Kelsey's very excited about it." "And Adah and Naomi would join her in the school?" "If we go through with this, yes." Hannibal smiled happily. "This is even better than I hoped. Megan, Alvaro, it's important for both our people to see us getting along together. How about all three girls do their schooling here, and also live two months a year in Canaan?" "Uh..." Megan's first thought was to object but a quiet voice in the back of her mind was asking her to consider the proposal seriously and not reject it out-of-hand. Hannibal went on. "Kelsey's independent activity could be to learn how to live in our culture." "Uh..." was all Megan could say again. Alvaro turned and looked at his wife with a surprised look on his face. "You're not rejecting the idea?" "Uh..." Megan finally gulped. "Not yet I guess." "Neither am I. Hannibal, the safety of our daughter would be a very big concern. Kelsey would also have to agree to this. We won't force her." "I understand. There would be guards entrusted with the girls' care. There's one person in particular I have in mind, the finest swordsman I have ever seen, a Hittite." Megan and Alvaro turned and stared at each other. Neither could quite believe they were considering entrusting the life of their daughter to a Hittite swordsman of 1100 BC. Alvaro finally turned back to Hannibal and said, "We'll think about it." They chatted for a while about other matters and then headed off to bed. Two weeks later. Time: Saturday, July 3, 2055 3:30 AM UMT The lone man was dressed as a poor wanderer, and the shoddy robes covering him suggested he was a Jebusite, though he was not. He had traveled late and hard the night before across the mountainous terrain. The waxing gibbous moon had provided light for traveling until setting four hours before sunrise, when the tired man had at last settled down. He was now less than thirty kilometers from the awful hill where the king's men had met their fate. On a rocky ledge in the dry mountains he had quickly collapsed into sleep. He stirred and stretched now after his six-hour rest, drinking only two swallows from his water skin. He gathered up his few possessions and prepared to move on. But there on a rock ten meters from his sleep site stood a large bird. It was standing on its legs, clearly not carrion, but also not moving. The traveler considered for a moment. If the unusual bird was asleep, it might make a fine breakfast. He slowly picked up a nearby rock and approached his prey as silently as he could. He became troubled as he approached the bird. Its eyes were wide open so it was clearly not asleep, yet the bird was as unmoving as stone. What bird would allow a hunter to approach like this? The man had also heard the wild stories of the pair of talking birds that had plagued Ethbaal, but those birds were a pair, bright blue in color and flying in the air, and this one was motionless and matched the gray of the rocks. Still... The man paused and considered, wondering whether to continue his attack. "Hello Ittobaal," the bird said in the clear voice of the goddess Megan as it magically changed to a brilliant green. Ittobaal shrieked and jumped back, his hunting rock still clutched in his hand. "Looking a bit scruffy this morning, aren't we?" the bird said in a conversational voice. "Do the Jebusites know you're parading around in their tribal colors?" "You!" Ittobaal blurted out. "Yes, it's me. I'm flattered you recognize my voice." The man was at a total loss for words. "How did you find me?" he finally asked in a squeak. "Wrong question Ittobaal. I'm very disappointed. Your question should have been, when did you find me? And the answer to that is, over a week ago, the day before the Philistines moved in to seize you." Megan made a clicking noise with her tongue. It was a familiar expression for a Canaanite woman to use to shame and scold her young children. "Ittobaal, consider your sorry life. Your brand of politics was too slimy for even the Philistines to stomach, and that is saying something." The insults from the feminine voice were unbearable. "Be gone from me, you demon of darkness!" Ittobaal screamed at the bird as he hurled his rock. The bird lowered its head slightly and the throw barely missed. Megan laughed. "Oh, you can't get rid of me that easily!" Ittobaal trembled at the reality of his predicament came crashing down on him. He whispered, "You have no power over me..." He was dismayed that the bird continued laughing. Or at least, the goddess speaking through the bird kept laughing. Except for the head bob, the bird was still as unmoving as stone. It was extremely disconcerting. "No power?" laughed Megan. "Ittobaal, this bird represents the very latest and greatest in Madeiran surveillance technology. Sonic has more power than you can possibly imagine. That's the bird's name by the way, Sonic. It has a twin named Super less than five thousand cubits from here. They work as an integrated pair. I'm controlling both. And Super is leading a group of men dedicated to giving you the reception you deserve for coming back to Canaan." Ittobaal was speechless for a moment, and then the goddess's words sank in. "You lie!" he retorted in a shout. Megan made her tongue clicking sound again. "Now that was just plain rude Ittobaal. Name me one time you've caught me in a lie. We can make a game of it if you want. I can start listing all the times you've lied to me. Want to try? I'll let you make the first move." "You lie!" Ittobaal said again, but this time it came out as a hoarse whisper. His hand groped along the ground and found another rock. Megan continued in her conversational tone. "Think so? Look in the valley below. You can see your reception party yourself." There was a pause. "No, not there. A little more to the east, by the grove of cedars. That's right. Super will flash a light for you. See them now?" Ittobaal gave a small shriek. "Ah, I see you've found them. Want to say hello? I can patch you through. There a certain Hittite that would love to say a few words to you. Stand by..." Ittobaal face turned deathly pale. He felt that he had awakened into a nightmare. He began cursing the bird loudly. Megan's voice returned. "Hear that Uriah? If you want to reply, just speak." Uriah launched into a short burst of Hittite than Megan could not understand. She was seated below decks in a control room forty kilometers away aboard the M.N.S. Urushalim Express, anchored a few hundred meters off Sidon's coast, and she took a moment to run the speech through a new lingual cross referencing program. It could only make out one word of Uriah's shout. The word was cockroach. But Ittobaal clearly understood everything. He sprang up and began racing along the ledge away from the bird. The bird came to life, rising as if by magic more than a meter into the air and then zipping in front of the fleeing Ittobaal in an instant. "The game's over Ittobaal." Ittobaal stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping. He looked back to confirm the bird was no longer at his old campsite, and then turned and glared at Sonic with wild eyes. "You can't escape Ittobaal, not with me watching your every move. You'll save Uriah some time and effort if you just give up quietly." A look of dismay crossed Ittobaal's face as he realized how hopeless his position was. The magical bird was betraying his location to his hunters. He wailed in despair and then hurled the rock in his hand directly at the bird. Another miss, again by a scant centimeter. "Oh, that won't work," said Megan. "This new model has some really neat collision avoidance software programmed into it." Megan's last words were in Portuguese. Ittobaal stared at the bird without understanding. "It's physically impossible for you to hit Sonic with a rock," said Megan switching back to Phoenician. "Unless you can throw a rock three times faster than sound. Want a demonstration?" The bird swooped down and grabbed a fist-sized rock in its claws and then flew over and dropped the rock near the feet of the astonished Ittobaal. Sonic then hovered a mere meter away, directly in front of his glaring face. Ittobaal stooped down slowly, eyeing the bird closely as he felt for the rock and picked it up, accepting the bird's challenge. He faced his adversary for a bare second, and then did a lightning fast side-swing with the rock, aiming to bash the bird's brains out with a head strike. At the last possible instant, the bird seemed to melt below the swing, just far and fast enough for Ittobaal's strike to miss completely. He growled in frustration and tried again. The bird turned one way, then the other, rising just a bit higher on each dodge. Each strike was missing by mere centimeters. In one particular strike, Ittobaal was sure his rock must have brushed the feathers, even though he felt no hint of an impact. And all the while the bird's eyes stared directly into his, mocking him. Ittobaal howled in feral hatred at the insult as he spun around and around, his eyes locked on the weaving bird, his swinging arm never quite connecting. And then the bird turned and paused in the air slightly above him and less than two meters out in front, its eyes directly away, blind at last, presenting its rump to Ittobaal and lifting up its tail feathers as if to shit on him. It was a supreme insult, and Ittobaal's face grew contorted with fury. He saw his chance and leaped instantly without thinking, as fast and high and silently as he could, swinging his arm in a vicious overhead arc to have the rock come crashing down directly on the demon bird's delicate back. And maddeningly, the bird seemed to squirt forward just enough so that the rock cut only air on the downswing. Ittobaal had stretched his arm as far as he could, hoping for at least a glancing blow on its rump, but again there was no connection at all. He then bent his knees to land from his leap and discovered in shocked horror there was no ground beneath him. He had jumped off the cliff. His body made an aerobatic twist in the air, but he was still carrying the momentum of his leap and in the air there was no way to change his direction. The side of the mountains was a steep rock face, almost vertical, and his screaming body stayed in front of the rocks for almost a hundred meters until it slammed into a boulder in the valley below. Sonic sped down to the body and examined it. Ittobaal had hit head first and his head had exploded upon the boulder. Megan felt both weary and a heavy sense of relief. Ittobaal couldn't have suffered more than five seconds of fear. Death was surely instantaneous on impact. She patched through to Sonic's twin and informed the search party of Ittobaal's new position and condition. Uriah replied with a single word in Hittite that he had already taught her. The word was gratitude. Megan sat unmoving in the isolated cool comfort of her ship's surveillance center. She pondered her actions as Uriah and his team worked their way to the body. Uriah's gratitude was not for sparing Uriah the work of killing Ittobaal himself. He would have done that gladly without hesitation or remorse. Uriah's gratitude was for sparing the new king the grief of dealing with a living Ittobaal. Hannibal had given Uriah clear orders to let Ittobaal surrender peacefully if he chose to. And that was something Megan could not accept. Megan pondered the violation of her medical oath as she surveyed the body. She had baited a man into killing himself. True, it was a man well deserving of death. Hannibal himself had come to her in Sidon the previous evening, asking for help in setting up a judicial branch of government and also inquiring with great embarrassment if the Madeirans had some merciful way of executing criminals. Brave and noble in battle, Hannibal never had to face the prospect of executing someone in cold blood. Megan's mind went back to her husband's words, so many years ago, that sometimes life hands you difficult choices. Megan was a doctor of medicine, a veterinarian to be sure, but still someone who had vowed to protect life and not wreck mischief upon it. But she was also a mother who had vowed to protect the life of her daughter. The issue of slavery was causing a deep chasm to form within the Canaanite society. Having Hannibal run a slave-free farm as an example was one thing, having him tell you that you no longer had property rights on your own slaves was something else entirely. Megan shook her head at Hannibal's desire to establish a judiciary. He had the right ideals but at the wrong time. There was common recognition that the society was at a crossroads, but there was also great uncertainty among the coastal cities as to which direction the society should take. Hannibal was holding the country together but the grip was tenuous. His two greatest assets were the promises of friendship with the Madeirans and the fact that his opposition did not have a strong leader to rally around. All the king's men except Ittobaal and Uriah were dead, and Uriah was firmly in Hannibal's camp. There was no fighting now, but Ittobaal! The man in a prison cell, even for a short time, could provide the nucleation site for the next round of civil war. He had half convinced the Philistines to help him kidnap Hannibal's young son as part of a complex plot to have Ittobaal become the next king of Canaan. The deal had fallen through, but what would be Ittobaal's next plan? Would his mind return to Edom's young daughters, the girls he had almost branded for slavery? And Kelsey would be arriving tomorrow in Sidon on her sixth birthday for a three-week stay with them. After much soul searching, Megan decided Ittobaal was one snake she would not suffer to live. And Megan was sure Captain Silva supported her decision. He had assigned her an unusual solo shift in the surveillance control room within the ship, and had given her explicit orders not to do recordings unless there was some essential need for it. Was there any other way to interpret such orders other than for her to help Hannibal if she could? Megan paused for a moment and then duly logged in her report that Ittobaal had died by leaping off the cliff while attempting to attack Sonic with a rock. Megan was certain the captain would not press her for further details. The tracking team finally made it to Ittobaal's body and began collecting stones for a simple grave in the rocks. Sonic joined its twin and the two birds hovered silently for a moment and then helped with the gathering of stones. The two birds worked much more quickly than the men, and after a while the men just stood quietly by and admired the birds' work. Soon the body lay buried under the rough cairn. Uriah waved at the birds and then saluted the magical pair with his sword. The birds bowed their heads and wings in respect, and then a very somber Megan brought them home to the ship. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2007-07-01 Last Modified: 2008-09-01 / 06:07:17 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------