transcontinental was too ambitious. too many hops, too tough on the ladies. but the shuttle. a lean athlete's body, easy grace in every movement. strikingly handsome features that convey not only intellect, but kindness and decency. washington, new york, boston. i think it's the future. will you go there with us? she's trying to crack her lobster, but can't take her eyes off her host. i'm rattling on here, and you've got a morning train. but she's just staring in his eyes. this could be her last chance to ask. oh, fine. really? he smiles, gently. actually, she hasn't been feeling her best. she'll probably summer in newport. so my kid's stuck with dad again. you suggesting you're less boring than i am? gore would love that. he has a little crush, i'm afraid. he's eight. well, then. he breaks the look. fishes out some cash for the bar tab. g the next adventure. what is it? she shrugs. no idea. because we're running out of oceans. i'm serious, amelia. her soft smile. the only way you can stay where you are. and be who you are. serious indeed. is to keep feeding the beast. she can't smile anymore. because this is the very fear she lives with. and the beast always needs something larger, greater, more daring. amelia he costs money, too. the price of fame, literally. do you and george talk about this? silence. with all respect. yes, you do. if you don't drink, why do you come o bars? what worries me is, in some of these bars the nuts are the ambience. specially when they make a pass at you. you keep advertising that, but i'm still waiting to see it. she looks down at her fingers as they shell. barely audible. well, here's your chance. i'm taking gore to the conference in bermuda. he wants you to come. sure. i'm completely indifferent. that's a wonderful idea. especially now. something in the way he said that. a good time for some positive press about you as a role model. her eyes harden. whatever do you mean? you don't read the papers? well, someone should. because they're all saying you took recklessly dangerous solo flights for no earthly purpose except publicity. meaning, money. dead. silence. g look, george had you taking money rom the sugar cartel for the hawaii flight, the mexican government for theirs, he's selling commemorative stamps which you carried on the flights. i'm sorry i said it that way. this s actually about you, because i'm picking a fight, apparently a useless one, for the benefit of someone i care about. if you want to make money, my guess s that people viewing you as lady lindy, america's sweetheart of the skies, the wife. mother. daughter they all wished they had. would be helpful. thanks for not being defensive. full beat. there are men who say they flew around the world, but they didn't ly around all of it. ask her about the pacific. the maximum range of the electra is 4000 miles. and the closest land est of honolulu is farther than that. gore looks to her. well? go out to the car and get sara. ask if she'll take you for an ice cream. okay? the boy knows he's being dismissed. looks from his dad to amelia, who steps forward to give him a hug and a kiss. the only good thing about losing our former relationship is i feel a little freer to tell you when you're being completely crazy. you're not a good enough pilot to o mid-air refueling. you will not be able to control the electra or that docking maneuver for that amount of time. i've noticed. don't be so proud of it. he reaches into a pocket. pulls out a folded sheet of paper. it opens to reveal a map of the pacific. a dot is circled in red. this is howland island. it's half- way between honolulu and new guinea. it has no elevation, no trees, it's a mile wide and a mile and a half long. hardly anyone knows or cares that it exists. we're colonizing it, because when the japanese make their move, we're going to need a refueling strip there. she blinks. the japanese. try reading the newspapers between he lines. we haven't started building the runways yet. maybe if someone i knew could get the president's attention. she stares at the map. the dot. it's really tiny, a grain of sand n the middle of a thousand miles f nowhere. her eyes are clicking through a calculus of their own. can you handle that? thanks for letting me come. as they sit, gene looks from one to the other. i guess i'm already outvoted. but you're flying howland last, when you're exhausted. she knows this. in the silence. maybe i'm obsessing on howland because it was my bright idea, and i'd feel responsible if. i'd appreciate that. draws a breath. you miss that island. you'll be out of fuel, with 2000 miles to go. you and fred alone for a month. how do you feel?