Silent Key, page 2
The parallel with Sikorsky's helicopter and the MagiX' Intellagama electric jet was two-fold. It became viable when its engine and power supply came into being. The Chinese-supplied power plant provided the necessary thrust enabling its unmatched range. Its unique solar panel technology supplied by another Australian company called NoviX provided the power needed for nearly endless sustained flight. Both technologies had come into maturity together, enabling MagiX to realize the Intellagama. The company offered a product that seemed as magic as the first helicopter seemed over 100 years ago, in 1939.
Two years before now, the plane famously left Perth at sunrise, headed west for 22,000 miles, and returned to Sydney before sunset 36 hours later, having stayed within the sunlight for the entire trip. That flight formed the basis for the aircraft's allure and formed the foundation of MagiX's enigmatic ethos; "Intellagama, sunset forever after eve."
The Intellagama promised unrestricted mobility, which is attractive to global business customers. It enjoys sales from corporate customers in remote rural China, where industry has expanded into the countryside faster than infrastructure contributing to the insatiable demand for energy and information, exacerbating the world's energy crisis. The Intellagama has a continent-traversing range and a water landing ability that provides unparalleled access. The unique solar cell technology is seamlessly integrated into each wing's upper contour and the hull's top surface. Collectively the panels produce almost all the energy consumed by its dual electric jet engines as it flies, making it capable of near-perpetual flight. It is a claim substantiated by MagiX's highly publicized sustained global traverse.
While he was impressed and intrigued by the pioneering machine as any aviation enthusiast, Ethan wasn't at the airshow to see the Itellagama. His company had sent him to the symposium for exposure to cutting-edge autonomous Man- Unmanned Teaming technology. The airshow always invited the latest in autonomous unmanned drone hardware. Dubai was renowned across the world as a hub for autonomous flight, having been the first to adopt and promote a network of flying taxis around the city. Ethan wanted to experience a flying taxi during his stay in the foreign land. He was eager for the novel experience, but he knew the convenience's premium price was not covered as an allowable expense on his business trip. Still, the windmills of his mind pondered how he might find an occasion for the experience while he was in Dubai for the airshow.
| Chapter 2 |
Feme Sole Trader
Jumeirah Beach, Dubai. UAE
Ethan emerged from the electric surface taxi at the Jumeirah Beach Hotel. He glanced at the searing sand of the venue's namesake. Baked by the day's relentless sunshine, the beach seemed to yearn for sunset. Ethan donned his stylish new comm-specs pressing the infrared-vis button on the frames as he dropped them over his eyes. With the infrared image augmenting his private view of the scene, he could view a section of the beach in front of the hotel that was significantly cooler than the surrounding terrain. It was where the subsurface refrigeration system strained against nature to extract enough heat from this tiny sliver of the gulf coast that a guest might be encouraged to lounge by the sea. The gimmick wasn't working. No one was on the sand. The air was so scorching, the soles of Ethan's shoes stuck to the light-colored pavement as he made his way for the hotel entrance.
The infrared-vis feature in his new comm-specs was working, however. Ethan was pleased with his recent purchase, despite this being the first time he had found any utility in the gimmick. The sophisticated sunglasses had their roots in military night vision technology. They were the latest selling feature of the newest generation of comm-specs, an internet access wearable with equivalent functionality to the ubiquitous comm-band.
Ethan had ditched his comm-band during escapades in London last year. Instead, his wrist was decorated with a handsome turquoise timepiece. A Pacific-centered map of the world adorned on its face. Ethan switched off his comm-specs' infrared vis feature to view the time. It was 5 pm. Good, he thought, time enough for a cold beer.
He proceeded to the nearby bar at Burj Al Arab Hotel. Its boat-like form was inspired by the sail of a dhow, a traditional Arabian sailing vessel used for fishing and pearling.
Ethan encountered a duo at the bar who were a few drinks into a one-up-manship conversation. Ethan took a seat a few vacant stools down from an attractive blonde woman who was keeping to herself across the bar from the sparring men. The pair of men were in heated debate and sat across the ellipse-shaped bar from the woman, speaking loudly so all could hear. Ethan perceived that the men were trying to outdo each other with impressive statements to attract the favor of the feme sole trader. Ethan viewed both the men and the woman from his stool near the ellipse-shaped bar top's apogee.
The first man with salty grey hair and matching beard remarked on the weather, "It's hot here in Dubai, no good for flying; after all, hot air is less dense than cool air."
The second man, who was clean-shaven, added, "At least we're at sea level. It would only be worse if we had this heat at a high altitude. High and hot, both poor conditions for flying"
Ethan surmised they were also staying in town for the airshow, judging by their conversation topic. He tipped the barman and downed a refreshing swig of the cold beer. Eavesdropping on the exchange was keeping him mildly entertained.
The salty-haired man added, "what we need is some humidity in this desert town. Denser air will be good for the airshow."
Ethan couldn't help but correct him. Politeness and social etiquette fell low on Ethan's priority when logic and fact were in jeopardy. Ethan interjected,
"Excuse me, but I can't help but point out the common misconception that humid air is more dense than dry air. Humid air is less dense. Hot and humid would make poor flight conditions for the show."
The salty-haired man immediately went on the defensive, "That can't be. If there is more water in the air, it's going to be denser."
"Not true," Ethan countered, "think of this bottle," Ethan motioned to his beer, "most people think that if you add water vapor to an empty bottle, you have more of something in there.
To make a given volume moister, you need to add water vapor molecules to the volume. To add water molecules to a bottle like this," Ethan rotated the artifact as he continued, "other molecules must be displaced." He took a quick sip and continued, "The pressure and temperature aren't changing, so any fixed volume of a gas has the same number of molecules."
"Yeah," said the well-kempt man taking sides with his former silver-haired adversary against their new common enemy, "but you just proved the point. It'll have the same number of denser water molecules."
Ethan fired another salvo of reason, "Dry air molecules weigh more than water molecules, which means that when a given volume is made moister by adding water molecules, heavier molecules become displaced by lighter water molecules. Therefore, moist air is lighter than dry air if nothing else changes."
The bearded man was unsure of himself now, "We are talking density of air, not the weight of molecules," He looked at his friend and then at the mysterious woman across the bar for some sign of approval. He hoped that somehow she too would take sides against his new come intruder.
Ethan launched a logic missile, "The amount of water vapor in the air also affects the density. Water vapor is a relatively light gas compared to Oxygen and Nitrogen in the air. Thus, when water vapor increases, the amount of Oxygen and Nitrogen decreases. The density decreases because mass is decreasing. So moist, humid air is bad for flying." Quod Erat Demonstrandum. Ethan took another swig of his beer and waited for a retort. None came from the defeated men, but Cross heard a soft clap.
The solo woman was smiling his way and gently tapping the fingers of one hand to the palm of her other. She stopped, picked up her beer bottle, stood, and walked toward Cross. She took a stool next to him. Cross was a sharp-looking man. With blue eyes, a masculine jawline, dark crew-cut hair that looked good even when it was mussed, and an athletic build, he didn't have difficulty getting a date. Still, Cross thought, 'This never happens,' as she sat and stuck out her hand.
"Alyne Jimmie." Cross detected a heavy Australian accent. It was a charming departure from the Northeastern American dialect to which he was accustomed.
"Ethan Cross." He flashed a blue-eyed smile, pleased with himself as the two challengers across the bar rose and moved to a table by the windows overlooking the Persian Gulf.
"You know your weather. Are you a pilot?" Alyne inquired as she leaned over the bar top holding up three fingers to the barman.
"No, I'm an…. I'm here for the airshow. You?" Cross avoided telling her he was a defense contractor. He knew to be cautious of anyone who showed an interest in his job. From his career in the defense industry, he knew all too well that his Top Secret clearance status made him a target for espionage. In every security training video he had ever received, there would be a clip of the cliché seductress tempting the unwitting engineer with the high-level access. In each video, the woman was always a few points hotter than the dude. He wondered if a voyeur would recognize his current situation as that stereotypical engagement. More than that, he hadn't had much success picking up women by leading with his status as a flight control engineer. As she settled back onto the high-top seat next to his, he quickly traced the contour of the smart coral-colored business suit that flattered her feminine physique and instantly decided she was worthy of his best pick-up efforts.
"I’m here for the airshow as well.” She continued. “I work for Rocket Sci. We launch out of New Zealand. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?” Cross had, and he knew the company launched small satellites. She continued before he responded, “I’m afraid our rockets would prefer those hot, humid conditions. Our launch commit criteria doesn’t allow for launch in bad weather, but unlike an airplane, a rocket would perform better in thinner air” the barman placed three freshly opened cold bottles in front of the pair.
“That, I can’t argue.” He raised his bottle for a friendly toast with what was left of his beer. Her insightful comment caused Cross to reassess his initial stereotype of her. She was easy on the eyes, which led Cross to presume she was a marketing saleswoman or a booth babe for the trade show. Say what you will of equality, but Cross’s observation was that corporations were wise to the power of a pretty face. Trade shows were often staffed with many of them. Alyne, however, seemed to have the intellect and charm to accompany her look. She put another beer down in front of him.
“Have another coldie; it’s so hot you have to feed the chooks ice blocks, so they don't lay hard-boiled eggs ‘round here,” her Aussie slang amused Cross. Her Australian accent sounded like an exotic blend of a British spokes model and a truck driver from Down East.
“Thank you, yes. More ice blocks.” Cross smiled at the phrase, “Did you hear that the beach is refrigerated?” Cross motioned casually across the room by tipping his beer toward the window. He looked past the two men shooting jealousy daggers with their eyes at Cross and his new companion.
“Really? Why am I not surprised? I hear they have an indoor ski area here. I want to take some turns before brekky one day this week- just to tell my mates back in Melbourne that I skied in the desert.”
“You ski? Australia has ski areas?” Cross inquired.
“Nah Yeah, Straya has ski resorts. I grew up an hour from Mount Baw Baw. I used to try to make it to Mount Hotham at least once a season. We have had to drive 7 hours to Charlotte Pass the past few yonks to find any good pow. You ski then?”
“I do. North of Boston, there’s plenty of good skiing. The most exotic destination I’ve skied though is in Europe at Ischgl in Austria, but I never thought of Australia as a ski destination.”
“Skiing in Straya isn’t exotic. Skiing in an Arabian desert, now that’s exotic!” Alyne stuck out her bottle to cheer Ethan. Ethan obliged. “Well, it is decided then.” She said, “A bushie and a yank will take some runs together in the big smoke of Dubai. Now that’s a site. You from Boston then?” Ethan was enjoying the conversation. Her Aussie slang was quite endearing, and he was pretty sure she just asked him on a date. He knew to be cautious while on business travel of anyone interested in his occupation, but she hadn’t asked about his work. Yet.
“Well,” Cross smiled at her, “outside of Boston. I rounded to the nearest city.” Alyne smiled over the top of her bottle.
He placed the cold oasis in his hand on the bar, rapidly formulating a discreet opinion of his friendly guest. He was attracted to her, for sure. She was personable. Check. He couldn’t place her profession, but he knew Rocket Sci to be a reputable company. Ethan decided that she was a worthy investment of some of his discretionary time while in Dubai. Skiing indoors would be a great experience. He was cautiously optimistic about the outcome. Maybe she was single? Already he felt he wanted to spend more time with her. The frequency of travel that his job required afforded few opportunities to get to know someone. Familiarity breeds relationship, he thought, as he prepared to elaborate on his response to her earlier question.
He started to speak just as a dark-haired Asian man approached Alyne, put his hand on her back between her shoulder blades, and greeted her with a foreign attempt to replicate her Australian accent. “G’Day, Mate.”
Alyne turned. With a familiar and enthusiastic smile, she offered her hand for a professional greeting, “G’Day, Mr. Chan. G’Day,” Alyne turned back to the bar to grab the unattended third bottle. She was expecting him. Cross should have noticed when she ordered three drinks. Ethan felt a pang of disappointment. “Rick Chan, this is Ethan Cr…” Alyne paused to prompt Ethan to save her from the embarrassment of forgetting his full name. Ethan turned to Rick and stood from his barstool, offering a firm handshake.
“Ethan Cross.” Rick stood a few inches taller than Ethan.
“Rick Chan, Solcom. You?”
Ethan answered with the conditioned indirect first-contact-with-a-foreign-stranger response that a seasoned defense contractor knew to apply, “I’m in Aerospace, here for the airshow,” He paused, “and for the beach scene,” Ethan motioned to the scorching empty beach. Alyne flashed a smile of amusement at Ethan’s clever response.
Alyne bolstered Rick’s introduction, “Rick Chan is Chief Technical Officer of Solcom. His company is Rocket Sci’s biggest customer. Rick and I work closely together,” she paused, looking only at Rick.
“And we are sure to connect every other year at the event.” Rick finished her sentence. She smiled pleasantly at her customer. Rick added, “It’s the highlight of the show.” He reached for her hand and kissed her fingers softly in an old-fashioned, strikingly non-Asian greeting. Rick had no detectable accent. In fact, he sounded American. His skin was light, and his features were more western than most Asians. “Where are you from, Mr. Cross?”
“I’m from the Northeastern U.S., and you?” Ethan’s curiosity about the man’s unique mix of traits compelled him to vector the conversation toward the newcomer. And he was curious about his relationship with Alyne. Ethan sat back on his stool as Rick adeptly slid another between Ethan and Alyne and seated himself.
“Wuhan China, originally. I did my undergrad at the University of Technical Sciences. I finished my first thesis in the States, though, Austin, Texas.” Rick chuckled proudly at his own accomplishment. Alyne laughed politely. Cross thought, First Thesis? No one had asked about Rick’s schooling. Cross rarely mentioned his own Ivy League background as to him it seemed superfluous in most conversations and unbecoming. Ethan wasn’t a fan of the man’s arrogance, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt.
“First thesis?” Ethan indulged Rick’s remark, “You’ve written more than one?”
“My first Ph.D. was in communications networks. My second Ph.D. was in nano-manufacturing.”
“That’s no small feat.” Ethan flashed another blue-eyed smile at Alyne, who smirked. She got the joke.
Rick didn’t seem amused. Alyne spoke next, “Rick’s company has done nearly 100 launches with Rocket Sci this year. That’s more than the Australian and New Zealand governments have launched with us this year combined.”
“What sort of payload are you launching that frequently?” Ethan inquired with genuine interest.
“Communications satellites. Solcom is building a network of low earth orbit satellites to offer global internet services, with a focus on the people of rural mainland China. We service the Australian market as well.” Rick said proudly.
“Just Like Amazon’s Kuiper, or Space X’s Starlink constellation that’s been in service for over two decades?” Ethan offered a passive-aggressive fact to put him in his place. A LEO constellation for internet service wasn’t unique. And what a strange way to say that, with a focus on the people of rural mainland, odd, thought Cross.
“Yes and no. Our Icarus constellation offers a similar service, but it’s sovereign to China, not reliant on a US-based infrastructure. It’s different than Starlink because all the satellites are interconnected via optical communication cross-links.”
“You mean lasers?” Ethan asked
“Yes, Laser communications offer low latency, high bandwidth data transfer. Our initial constellation boasts some of the fastest downlink speeds ever for a satellite-based internet service.”
