Backscatter

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.