A Barnstormer in Oz

by Philip José Farmer

  Hank's face burned, but he said nothing.

  Glinda sipped some berry juice, then said, "I've been considering for some time whether or not to tell you a certain thing. I decided this morning to let you know about it. I want you to put it in your report to your people."

  She paused. Hank said, "Yes?"

  "I've had hawks circling the area where the green cloud has been forming. The next-to-last time that the green cloud appeared, one of my hawks went through it into your world at my order. When the gate formed the last time, she came back through."

  Hank said quickly, "Was she still sentient?"

  Glinda nodded and said, "Which means that, though your world does not generate mind-spirits, mind-spirits can exist there."

  That news would frighten those who knew about the project. That is, it would if they believed him.

  But... was Glinda telling the truth? Or had she made up this just to scare the authorities?

  "There's only one way to convince them of that," he said. "When the gate next appears, send a hawk through. They can't ignore a talking bird."

  Glinda laughed and said, "But they can't speak Quadling!"

  "That won't matter. They can get a Gothic scholar, and he'll be able to work out the sound-changes and grammatical changes and most of the vocabulary. The only trouble is, they'll have to swear him to secrecy. But they might not trust him to keep his mouth shut. Any scholar would have a hell of a time not telling others about an intelligent talking bird."

  "Would your people let the hawk come back after they'd studied her?"

  Hank hesitated, then said, "I don't know. Well... I doubt it. Not for a long time, anyway. She'd have to be studied thoroughly, and that would take months, maybe a year. Even then..."

  "I won't send one of my people into prison," Glinda said.

  Hank did not say so, but he thought that the hawk would probably be killed eventually. The scientists would want to dissect her after they had exhausted all study of the living creature. They would be very curious about her brain-nerve structure.

  "Why can't you just send them moving pictures of you and others talking to the hawk along with a phonograph recording?"

  "I can, but they'd think it was faked."

  "If they did think so, they'd have to believe that you were a traitor."

  Hank was startled. After a few seconds, he said, "Not necessarily. They might, probably would, believe that I was being coerced. And that would give them an excuse for sending in an invasion force to rescue me."

  "And, since we would resist them, declare war on us?"

  "They couldn't do that officially, that is, publicly, unless they wanted to let everybody know about this world."

  Glinda smiled. "Complicated, isn't it? Human affairs are always so."

  Hank did not reply. A moment later, Glinda dismissed him. He went to the hangar and began the disassembling of Jenny needed for inspection and repair. She was long overdue for them. Jenny asked him what he was doing; she seemed nervous about being taken apart. He explained, and then he had to answer many questions about other things. Jenny was always trying to educate herself. When he was not around, she bugged the mechanics and anybody else, human or animal, within range of her voice.

  He quit working a half hour before supper, and he gave his helpers some drawings and instructions for gaskets they should make. After eating, he and Lamblo went to the weekly entertainment held in the ballroom. This consisted of jugglers, acrobats, fire-eaters, jesters, clowns, and a two-act play based on a Quadling legend. Hank got bored, but he could not leave before Glinda did. Fortunately, she was even more bored, having seen much the same acts for three hundred years. She left after forty minutes, and Hank and Lamblo retired to his apartment.

  A servant, a cute brunette named Mizdo, woke him at dawn. He had left word that he should be awakened then because he wanted to put in a full day on the plane. Mizdo, however, was not just carrying out her duty as alarm clock. She was wide-eyed and a little pale and agitated. "The queen says that you are to come at once!"

  Lamblo sat up, blinking and saying, "What? What?"

  "Not you, Captain!" Mizdo said. "Hank the Giant!"

  He was out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. Over his shoulder, he said, "What's up?"

  Mizdo pointed a tiny finger at the French windows. "There! There!"

  Hank whirled, and, the nightshirt flapping against his ankles, strode to the windows. These were locked and barred because of possible attack by Erakna's hawk assassins. He opened them and stepped out onto the balcony. The sun had cleared the horizon. To the south, high in the air, was a green, roughly rectangular shape. The opening. But it was far larger than before. It had to be as big as two football fields put together.

  "What's going on?" Hank said. "They're not due yet!"

  The haze began shrinking, but, when it was the size of half a football field, it stopped. Hank watched it for two minutes without noting any change in it. Then, remembering that the queen had summoned him and that it was not wise to keep her waiting, he tore himself away from the spectacle. Ten minutes later, he was in Glinda's suite.

  "What do you make of that?" she said.

  The haze was still of the same dimensions.

  "They've found some way to stabilize the opening," he said. "They're conducting an experiment, a test."

  "It's a good thing that Jenny can't fly just now," she said. "Otherwise, you might be trying to escape."

  "Never," he said.

  "They could fly in an army of planes now, couldn't they?"

  "Yes, but I doubt they will. As I said, they need secrecy..."

  "Perhaps they don't now."

  "We can do nothing but wait and see."

  The cloud suddenly dwindled and disappeared as if it were a green handkerchief pulled back through a hole in the sky.

  "It's always appeared at noon before," Glinda said. "Why should it come just before dawn now?"

  Hank did not reply.

  "Could it be that it's been small enough not to cause much notice?" she said. "But they don't know that people couldn't help seeing something that big during the day? So they're conducting their tests before many are up and about?"

  "I suppose so," he said.

  He was awakened at dawn again the next day. Mizdo had just entered the suite, but he had been yanked from a sound sleep a few seconds before. Horns were blaring, drums were pounding, and now through the opened door came the yells and shouts of many and the slap of feet against the floorstones.

  "What now?" he roared at Mizdo.

  "Flying machines! Many of them!"

  Breathing heavily after his dash to the top of the highest tower, Hank watched the aircraft as they emerged from the green cloud and headed towards the castle. By the time he had gained the top, the lead planes were circling over the castle. The first to arrive were two Thomas Morse MB-3As, pursuit biplanes. These would be armed with two .30-caliber Colt-Browning machine guns.

  Behind them were three D.H.4B two-seater scout and light bomber biplanes just like the one which had crashed.

  And behind them were three D.H. biplanes. Airmail carriers!

  The Air Service must have brought these in to transport supplies and ammunition. Each had a mail load capacity of 550 pounds.

  Here came a Dayton Wright Model FP-2, a twin-float two-engine biplane specially built for the Canadians, who used it for patrolling forests. Had the Army borrowed or rented it?

  The FP-2 normally carried a crew of four, but Hank supposed that it was jammed with soldiers and equipment now.

  Here came a Loening Air Yacht, a flying boat. It carried four passengers and a pilot, but the passengers would not be civilians this time.

  Behind it was an E. M. Laird Company "Swallow," a three-seater Curtiss land biplane.

  And behind it was an Orenco Tourister II four-seater commercial biplane.

  Glinda arrived then. Her short legs had not been able to keep up with Hank's, but she was in better condition than he. She wa
s not breathing hard.

  "What do you think they're going to do?" she said.

  Hank walked to the other side of the tower and pointed to the northeast.

  "See that lake and the big treeless meadow by it? I bet they're going to land there. The seaplanes will land in the lake and the land planes on the meadow. They'll set up defenses there, their base. There's a road there and embankments by the ditch along the road. On the other side of the meadow is a grove of trees. They'll cut down trees and make some sort of log wall behind which they can shoot from. The lake will protect one side; the embankment, another; the logs, the other two."

  "And I suppose that some of those flying machines will stay in the air and protect them from attack there."

  "Probably while the other planes are landing. After that, I don't know."

  An Elias Commercial biplane had joined the widening circle. It was powered by two LeRhone eighty-horsepower engines and had three cockpits. The pilot was in the front, two passengers in the middle, and one in the rear.

  Hank was beginning to understand what the Army had done. It had not pulled out squadrons from one unit or base field. It had plucked one craft from here, another from there. And it had arranged to borrow, lease, or rent some commercial craft. That eleven-passenger Aeromarine Airways, Inc. Flying Cruiser, for instance. The Army must have made secret arrangements to obtain one for a short period and had flown it to near Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, where it would have landed in the Missouri River.

  Here came another commercial craft, the Huff-Daland "Petrel," a three-seater.

  He wondered why the planes were circling above the castle. Was it to frighten the inhabitants? If so, they were doing a good job. Everybody except Glinda was obviously upset. And down below, on the farms and in the towns, everybody was staring upward. If it had not been for the roar of the engines overhead, he would have heard the cries of the mob.

  Now the two pursuits were peeling off and heading, as he had expected, toward the meadow. Others followed them, one by one, as new arrivals entered the southern side of the circle.

  The pilots had had more in mind than just shaking up the Quadlings. They had also wanted their passengers to get a good view of the castle and the layout of the land around it and to check them against the maps he had sent. If they attacked, they wouldn't be doing so blindly.

  Hank shook his head. "I can't believe it!"

  "What?" Glinda said.

  Hank pointed. "Ten Jennies. No, eleven. No, twelve!"

  Shortly thereafter, he counted a total of twenty, When they banked to circle, he saw that ten carried a soldier each in the front cockpit and ten had seemingly empty front cockpits. He was sure, however, that these held weapons, ammunition, and other supplies.

  "It's a big operation," he muttered.

  Glinda, standing close to him, looked up.

  "I could order an attack," she said. "I've made plans for just such a situation. But I wish to find out just what they intend to do first. You'll have to interpret."

  Hank said, "As you wish, Glinda."

  While they went down the stairs, she told him what to say to the invaders' commander.

  "Stress that they cannot leave the meadow except to return to Earth. I will not have them spreading disease. If they do leave the camp, they'll be attacked. Don't be diplomatic about it. Tell them in plain words, harsh words, if you must. They must not leave the meadow except to fly back. And they must do that as quickly as possible. I will not argue with the commander. He must do as I say."

  "I'll tell them," Hank said. "But I don't know if it'll do any good. They have their orders, and they'll carry them out."

  They entered the courtyard and got onto the chariots. Riding out through the gates, Hank saw that the castle guards had been reinforced by the nearby garrison. They had formed a deep rank across the road and were keeping back the mob that had streamed out from the town. Other soldiers were moving the farmers out of the houses between the meadow and the town.

  A woods to his right seethed with hawks and eagles. They were waiting for Glinda's orders.

  When the chariots were a quarter of a mile from the meadow, they halted. Glinda said, "This is as close as we'll come—except for you. Go and talk to them. No, wait. What are your feelings about this, Hank?"

  He laughed raggedly.

  "How do I feel? We Americans have a saying. ‘My country, right or wrong.' Most of us, I'm sorry to say, agree with that. But some of us don't. My Mother taught me that ‘right' is higher than anything, well, except God; and He's supposed to always be on the side of right. She also taught me that it's not always easy to see what's right and what's not.

  "In this situation... I'm torn, Glinda. I love my country, even though there are a hell of a lot of things wrong in it. I want it to be always in the right, to do right. But it hasn't always been and isn't and won't. Still, it's the best country, among the best, anyway, that I've ever seen or know of.

  "Now, though... they're wrong, dead wrong, to come barging in here like this. They, the authorities, the big shots, have been told what will happen here if they come. They'll be bringing something far more deadly than bullets. Knowing this, having been told to stay out, they come anyway. Why? Because of greed and fear.

  "They're wrong, Glinda. It hurts me to say that. Worse, they're evil. They would deny that; they think of themselves as good men, doing what they're doing for the good of the country. But their thinking is warped."

  "I know all that," she said. "And more. But just what is your position in this? Are you for or against me... us?"

  "I can't be a traitor to my country!" he said, a near-wail shaking his voice. "I just can't!"

  "Which is your country?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "The land you were born in or the land of the right?"

  The two seaplanes had landed and taxied near to the shore. Soldiers had poured out of them, sinking in the lake up to their waists. Then canvas boats were unfolded, and these were loaded with boxes and pushed ashore and unloaded and shoved back to the seaplanes to be loaded again.

  While the two pursuits circled high overhead, the land planes touched down one by one and taxied to the area near the lake. Soldiers and pilots got out to help remove weapons and supplies from the craft. Hank saw ten .50-caliber and four .30-caliber Browning machine guns and two light mortars. Most of the troops were armed with BARs.

  Guards were stationed at the perimeters. Some men were digging latrine trenches, and a large number were chopping at the bases of middle-sized trees.

  The last plane, a Jenny, landed and discharged a soldier and several boxes.

  A man in an officer's uniform stood near the embankment, his binoculars trained on Hank's group. Hank wondered what the fellow made of the tiny people and the moose-drawn chariots. He would be verifying that the natives had no firearms, though he had doubtless been told that. What else had he been told?

  One man was operating a movie camera, and two men were setting up radio equipment.

  One by one, the planes took off, climbing to about two thousand feet and circling while the others caught up with them.

  Hank waited for Glinda to tell him to approach the base, but she seemed to be interested only in watching the procedure. That wise old brain behind that devastatingly beautiful and young face must be considering all possibilities, though.

  Presently, the circle above broke up as the planes headed in single file towards the south. The two pursuits, however, dived, turned, and flew towards the Quadlings on the road. They were only fifty feet up as they raced along, and they shot roaring and whistling over the Quadlings. The queen's troops must have been frightened, but they held firm. Nobody was going to break discipline, not when Glinda was around.

  "They could have killed us all if they'd wanted to," Hank said.

  He watched the pursuits pull up and turn towards the others.

  "I didn't think they wanted to," she said. "Go to them, now, Hank. But don't touch them. Stay away from them.
I don't wish to quarantine you again."

  "As you wish," he said, and he walked down the road. When he came to the wooden bridge across the ditch, he turned and crossed it. A guard, a young private wearing the crossed-rifles insignia of the infantry, challenged him.

  "Henry L. Stover, late lieutenant of the Army Air Service," Hank said.

  The guard had been informed about him. Not, Hank thought, that he could have been anybody else. Who else in this world stood so tall and spoke English? Except for the invaders, of course.

  The guard bawled out a summons to a corporal nearby, and the man came running to escort him to the officer with the binoculars. Hank was surprised when he saw his captain's bars. He had expected that an expedition of such importance would be led by a colonel at least. The officer, like all the soldiers Hank could see, had no cloth insignia.

  Hank stopped ten feet from him and said, "Henry L. Stover at your service, sir."

  The captain was almost as tall as Hank. He was lean and lanky and had a deeply tanned angular face with high cheekbones, pale blue eyes, and straw-colored hair. He did not look over thirty.

  "Captain Boone Longstreet," the fellow said in a deep but rasping voice. The accent was Southern, probably Tennesseean or Kentuckian. "Of the United States Regular Infantry."

  Longstreet advanced towards him; Hank stepped back. Looking puzzled, the officer stopped.

  "I have orders not to get any closer than this to any of you," Hank said.

  "Why not, suh?"

  "I don't want to catch anything from you."

  A flush spread out beneath the tan.

  "That sounds insulting, suh."

  "It's not meant to be anything but realistic. These people are wide open to Earth diseases."

  The captain looked startled. Hank thought, Good God, didn't the brass tell him anything about that?

  "Also, of course," Hank said, "you and your men are very vulnerable to the diseases of this world."

  Longstreet paled. The fellow was a regular chameleon.

  Why had he lied so spontaneously? Why? Because he did not want them here. They had no right to be here.

  But these feelings did not mean that he was a traitor or ready to be Glinda's agent for whatever she wanted him to do.