A Barnstormer in Oz

by Philip José Farmer

  Hank felt cold run over his skin.

  Though he was violating all his training and his pilot's reflexes, he took his hand from the stick and his feet from the rudder bar.

  The Jenny straightened out just before her wheels touched, and she made a perfect three-point landing.

  Hank swore softly.

  He did not touch the throttle, but it moved, and the motor slowed. When the plane had slowed enough, she began turning slowly, and then she taxied into the hangar opening. Inside, with the rudder turned, the ailerons on the left wing lifted, the engine roared, and the Jenny turned to face outward. When that maneuver was completed, the ignition was turned off, and the engine stopped. Hank sat numbed until the propeller had quit whirling.

  He got out of the cockpit and assisted his passengers to the floor. Lamblo greeted them and said she was to conduct them to Glinda.

  Hank said, "I'll be along in a minute."

  "Little Mother wants you now," Lamblo said.

  Hank shrugged and said, "O.K."

  But he went to the front of the Jenny and stared at the painted eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. The plane stared back.

  "Please," Lamblo said. "She stressed that she wanted to see you as soon as possible. No delays."

  "I'll catch up with you before you get to the big gate," he said.

  Lamblo's eyebrows went up. She looked as if she would like to ask him why he wanted to stay behind, but she said, "You'd better." She and the honor guard marched the two kings out of the hangar. As soon as they were out of sight, Hank turned to the plane.

  "Jenny? Are you there, Jenny?"

  He felt ridiculous, but he had to say that.

  "Jenny?" a Victrolalike voice roared. Though the red cupid's-bow mouth did not move, it was the source of the voice.

  Hank was startled, though he had expected some such response.

  "Jenny? Is that my... name?"

  She pronounced it as "Chenny." There was no "j" sound in any of the many dialects.

  "Yes, your name is Jenny," he said. He whispered, "Jesus Christ!"

  "Chiizuz Kraist?" the painted mouth said.

  "I'll talk to you later," Hank said. "I have to go. Listen, stay here. Don't leave the hangar. Don't turn on the engine. Or can you do that?"

  "Oh, yes, I can," Jenny said.

  "How...?"

  He stopped. There just was not time for any interrogation. He slapped her lightly on the propeller hub, and he said, "I'll be back." He ran off, though not without a backward glance. The airplane did not look alive. Or did she? Was there some faint light in those big blue long-lashed eyes?

  And how would she know what he meant when he said "hangar" and "engine"?

  As he trotted towards the castle, he muttered, "The big brass just won't believe this! I don't believe it!"

  Glinda was seated behind the big desk in the conference room. She rose when the group entered, went around the table, and embraced the two kings. They sounded happy to see her.

  Specially built chairs were brought up for the visitors. The Scarecrow's was of green velvet, the tall headrest bore a huge golden O (for Oz), and a gold crown set with emeralds was fixed to the top of the headrest. The Woodman's chair was of yellow-painted tin with the Gothic W (for Winkie) painted on its headrest, which also bore a tin crown set with yellow topazes. Hank's was a giant overstuffed chair on rollers. Blue velvet covered it, and it had no monogram or crown.

  Food and drink were brought for Hank and set on a small table by his chair. Glinda was given a tall cut-quartz goblet filled with wine.

  Glinda inquired about the ruler's health. Hank refrained from snickering. She then told him that she would not need his report of the trip. She knew all about it. Hank wondered if she also was aware of Jenny's animation, but he did not ask her. He would wait until she was alone with him. It seemed to him, however, that she would not know about the airplane. Who could have told her?

  "As you all know," she said, "the Uneatable has finally launched her invasion. She did not inforrn us officially that she's at war with us and probably won't bother to do it. The latest reports I have—I got them thirty minutes ago—are that one army is halfway through the border forest between Gillikinland and Ozland, and another one, Niklaz, is a hundred miles from your capital. There's a third, poised on the Munchkin border, and it may have struck by now.

  "The army in Ozland is on the road which Dorothy and you two traveled when you were coming to see me. It's not making much headway. The Cowardly Lion is in command of the animal forces there; he's chewed up the advance forces of men and beasts.

  "The Winkies have lost two major battles already, and they're retreating to make a stand near their capital. You should get back there quickly. They need your moral support.

  "Wulthag, the Munchkin ruler, tells me that Erakna tried a personal attack two nights ago, but Wulthag repelled her with no injury to either woman. I expect one against me at any time, though I'm not sure that Erakna is brave enough, as yet, to try me."

  "What about the Natawey?" the Scarecrow said. "I heard that Erakna was attempting to enlist them. She's promised them loot and women."

  "Wasokat, the king of the Pekotashas, is Erakna's ally. But King Tekumlek of the Shanahookas is ready to attack Wakosat if a large Pekotasha army leaves the country to assist Erakna. I've long had an understanding with Tekumlek about that."

  Glinda raised her right hand, the first finger and forefinger extended. A white-bearded counsellor who'd been standing with a small iron box in his arms put it on the table. Glinda produced a key from out of the air as if she were a magician—which she was, though Hank suspected palming—and she unlocked the box. She raised the lid; its rusty hinges squeaked. From it she brought out two objects, each of which was attached to a steel neckchain.

  They were identical: thin iron ankhs or Egyptian looped crosses with an iron G in the loop. The G looked more like an English lower case "r" than anything else.

  "I want you to wear these," she said to the kings. "At all times. They're protective sigils, and they'll help ward off Erakna's powers. Notice that I say ‘help.' They won't be effective, or, at least, will be only half-effective, against the Uneatable's greater powers. The G is not an initial for my name. It stands for Ganswabzham, the witch who made these and from whom I indirectly inherited them. Put them on. Now."

  "I would have sent them with Hank," she said. "But their force had waned with time, and I had to recharge them. That demanded more energy than I was willing to spare at that time."

  She spoke to Hank. "I could give you one, too, but you don't need it. You have your mother's gift, the housekey. I have charged that also."

  She told him that he could leave the conference if he had things to do. The plans for military strategy did not require his presence. He should get his machine ready to fly the two back to their capitals by the day after tomorrow. Hank went to the hangar and checked out the physical condition of the plane. Since there were others around, he did not speak to Jenny. He wanted to be alone with her when he did that.

  He also talked with the smiths and other technical experts assigned to him. The machine guns were ready for testing, and two hundred .30-caliber cartridges had been made for them. These were filled with black gunpowder, though other experts were working on cordite. There were also two hundred .45 bullets for his automatic pistol and six-shooter revolver, and the cases for bombs and small rockets were finished. The latter would not be ready, however, by the time he left for the north again.

  Hank had had some calipers made so that he could be sure that each bullet fitted his specifications. Part of the afternoon was spent measuring them. He only had to reject twenty, not a big amount. Then he test-fired the machine guns on a stand outside the hangar. Satisfied that they were in good operating condition, he supervised their mounting on the upper wing of the Jenny. It was dark by the time that was done.

  Food and drink were brought to him for supper. He ate, then ordered everyone to leave the hangar. The guards sta
tioned themselves outside the building. Hank approached Jenny. "We can talk now," he said.

  "I wondered when you'd want me to talk," Jenny said.

  "Why didn't you say something?"

  "I don't know what to do, what to say," Jenny said. "I... just... I really don't know."

  Hank sipped some of the mixed berry juice and vodka. Who'd believe a scene like this? He, Henry L. Stover, talking, actually talking to a JN-4H, an inanimate flying machine? No, no longer a lifeless object. An artifact that had become sentient and lingual.

  How?

  "When did you first become aware?" he said. "I mean, when did you first see, hear, and feel things?" He could not ask her how she happened to be born.

  "I was in the air," Jenny said. "I was not. And then I was. You'll have to excuse me if I can't describe things properly. I don't know everything I should. I don't have the, uh, words that I need. Not all of them."

  She hesitated, then said, "But I can learn! I can learn!"

  "You have no memory of anything before you, ah, came into existence? I mean, before the moment you found yourself in your body?"

  "No."

  "Nothing?"

  "Nothing."

  But she did have a memory. She could speak, which meant that she was drawing on a vocabulary somewhere within her. She had to have had a preexistence even if she did not remember it.

  Hank described to her what had happened before the glowing ball had disappeared into her engine. He had to stop now and then to explain various references to her.

  "First, I was just a nonliving thing of metal and fabric and wood," Jenny said. "Then, I live and talk and think."

  "Have you ever heard of... I mean, do you know what Quadling means?" Hank said.

  "No. That's a word I don't know."

  "Do you know the name of Glinda?"

  "I heard it, but I don't know who—she?—is."

  "What's my name?"

  "Hank. I heard the others call you that. I've learned a lot just by listening."

  He told her about the Scarecrow, but she was more confused than enlightened.

  "You mean... I'm something like the Scarecrow?"

  "Not physically. But you two have something in common. You both have a soul."

  "A soul? What's that?"

  Hank did his best to explain.

  Silence. Did the huge painted blue eyes look puzzled?

  "There's one thing we'd better get straightened out now," Hank said. "That is, I'm the pilot, you're the airplane. The pilot runs the airplane. From now on, unless I tell you differently, you don't decide whether you go up or down, bank, dive, climb, take off, or land. I'm the master; I handle the controls, unless I tell you to take over. Is that clear?"

  "I think so. Only... I just can't help myself. When you don't do it right or fast enough, I just must do it. It's a matter of... what?"

  "Survival. Making sure that you don't die."

  "Yes."

  "Well, you'll have to use self-control. I don't want you to take over! I don't want you overriding me! Do you understand?"

  "Yes. You don't have to shout at me! You don't have to get nasty with me."

  Hank threw his hands up in the air. A Jenny whose feelings were easily hurt. An emotionally sensitive aircraft. What next?

  "You may not remember your former life," he said. "But you came into this world, into being as a machine, anyway, with a half-grown knowledge of speech and a full-grown personality. You're not a newborn infant."

  He was convinced that Glinda had caused this transformation or possession. But how could she, hundreds of miles away, have been watching him and so affected the possession? "She's got all the answers," he muttered, "and she sure as hell better come through with some. Soon." Or he'd do what? He could do nothing.

  "We'll have some more heart-to-heart talks," he said. "I have to go now. Meanwhile, uh, is there anything I can do for you?"

  "No, thank you, Hank."

  "Well... listen... there is one thing, though. Can you start your engine? If you can, I won't have to get someone to spin the prop when I want to start... you."

  For answer, the propeller spun a few times but the engine died. Hank poured some ether into the carburetor, then told her to try again. This time the propeller spun slowly, the engine whined, then it burst into explosive coughs, the propeller spun swiftly, and the engine roared.

  Hank yelled at her to turn off the ignition. She may not have been able to hear him above the noise, but she understood his gestures. The roaring ceased, and the propeller blades were soon visible, then still.

  Hank patted her cowling and, feeling disorientated and somewhat ridiculous, walked out of the hangar. He talked to the officer of the guard for a moment, making sure that the hangar doors would be closed and that soldiers would be stationed inside and outside the building. Then he went to the castle.

  Late that night, as he and Lamblo sat in the bed and smoked, he said, "I have a new love."

  She sat straight up. Hot ashes spilled from her pipe, and she was busy pushing them off before the cover caught fire. She said, "A new love? You... met someone you like better than me?"

  "I wouldn't say that," Hank said, grinning. "But she can do some things you can't do."

  "That I don't believe," Lamblo said. "Come on, Hank. Don't tease me."

  He told her about Jenny.

  Lamblo shivered and moved closer to him.

  "It's witch-art. Glinda must have done it."

  "I'd like to know how. And why."

  "You're better off not knowing. And not asking."

  "I have to."

  "Don't, please don't, anger Glinda."

  "Glinda the Good? If she's so good, she won't hurt me."

  "Glinda's good is the good of the people. You're just one person, and an alien at that. She doesn't know, no one knows, what's going to happen because you came here. And she can't be sure that you're not a spy."

  Hank was indignant.

  "I am Dorothy's son!"

  "Yes, but that's not the same as being Dorothy. Besides, if your mother came back now, she'd be suspected. She's an adult, and..."

  "Nuts!" Hank shouted. "Pure essence of horse poppy!"

  "Now, now, my little giant."

  "Don't patronize me," Hank said. "Look. I've been tested... the Black Pearl of Truth, you know. What more does Glinda need?"

  "The real test hasn't come up yet. You're going to have to make a choice between us and your country. It's bound to happen. Glinda says..."

  "Well, what does Glinda say?"

  "I have such a big mouth. I'm sorry. I can't say any more on that subject. Glinda will have to deal with that. Please forgive me."

  "For telling the truth? Nothing to forgive." Nevertheless, he was angry with her. How dare anyone doubt his integrity?

  Later that night, after much undulation of anxiety, sleepless while Lamblo snored as gently as a cat, he admitted that Glinda was right. She was always right. He hated her for that.

  Ot, the hawk, had shown up. But she was no longer Ot.

  Hank found that out the next day. He overheard one of his "mechanics" mention her name, and he asked the man to repeat what he'd said.

  "Oh, she showed up before you did. I suppose it was instinct that made her come back here or maybe she hadn't, somehow, forgotten everything. The first thing she did after she rested was to kill a chicken and eat it."

  The mechanic shuddered. "She was caged, of course. She won't be put on trial, but she can't be let loose either."

  "What're you talking about?" Hank said.

  The little man looked up puzzledly at Hank.

  "She was dispossessed. I thought you knew about it. But then..."

  "I'm still an ignoramus in a lot of things. Where is Ot?"

  He was taken to the front courtyard of the castle. There was a stand there with a large cage on top. Ot, or what had been Ot, was behind the bars. She glared at Hank with wild fierce beautiful eyes. Hank spoke to her, but she screamed at him, and when he put
a finger between the bars, she hurled herself at it. Hank withdrew it just in time to escape its being torn off.

  "Reverted;" the mechanic said. "Her soul's gone."

  He crossed himself.

  "Where's it gone?" Hank said.

  "Only God knows."

  "No," Hank muttered. "I'll bet Glinda knows, too."

  He had a theory. If it was right, that first lightning ball, or whatever it was, had left the plane to shoot after Ot with the intention of dispossessing the sentient entity in her and occupying her itself. Though it had ousted the original possessor, it had failed to take occupancy. Meanwhile, a second ball had formed. Or, if it already existed, it had been invisible until it used the electrical energy in the atmosphere to form the sphere.

  Or had he put all his available data into the wrong theory? Was he wrong because he did not have all the data he needed?

  He felt very frustrated. He also felt sorry for the hawk.

  "Is she going to be kept in the cage until she dies?" he said.

  "I don't know. That's up to Little Mother. The hawk can't be let loose. She'd murder more chickens. Even if she were released in the woods, she'd probably prey on the domestic fowl. Also, since she's nonsentient, she'd be handicapped, she couldn't compete with the other hawks. She'd probably starve to death."

  Glinda's hawks got their meat by going to the woods where the wild creatures were, and there they caught mice, rabbits, and other small animals. But, since these were sentient, they were not as easy prey as they would have been on Earth. The hawks never seized enough to satisfy their bellies. They depended largely on the indigenous meat nuts, shelled fruit containing a very high percentage of protein. These filled their guts—they were not stinted on these—but they did not satisfy the hawks' craving for real meat. Hence, they were given leave at regular intervals to go hunting in the woods. The mice, rabbits, gophers, wild ducks, and pheasants did not like that, but their treaty with humans did not include protection from domestic birds of prey.

  "Has this happened to other hawks?" Hank said.

  "Not very often, but it does happen."