Backscatter

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."