The Gate of Time

by Philip José Farmer

  Two Hawks waited until an hour before dusk to begin the initial stage of his plan. Raske was not likely to come to the field at this late hour, so Two Hawks felt safe. On the pretext that one of the planes had a motor that sounded peculiar, he grounded the plane. Then, as if the thought had suddenly come to him, he announced that he wanted to try an experiment. While some mechanics were trying to locate the source of the “funny noise”, others were welding attachements to two gasoline tanks. These, Two Hawks explained, were to be installed on the underside of the wings. The tanks were fitted to the mounting apparatus for the rockets. Hoses were connected to the tanks and run up to the motor’s gasoline intake. He supervised the installation of necessary valves. By then, those working on the motor said that they could not locate the supposed trouble. Two Hawks told them to forget about it; he might have been mistaken. He climbed into the cockpit and restarted the motor. The main gas tanks had been drained until they were almost empty. Two Hawks let the motor run for several minutes before turning on the valve to the auxiliary tanks. The motor continued to turn over without a single miss during the switchover.

  It was midnight by then. Two Hawks ordered the auxiliaries disconnected and removed. He had the tanks carried back to the hangar rear, where they would be out of Raske’s sight. On the way back to the apartment in Berlin, he explained what he had done to Kwasind.

  “I want you to get hold of your contact and find out what he intends to do. Tell him the plans have been changed. No, better still, have him talk directly to me. I have to explain in detail what’s needed.”

  Kwasind protested that the Blodlandish would refuse. It was too dangerous to contact Two Hawks personally.

  “Tell him if he doesn’t, the whole thing’s off. Now, when can I meet him?”

  “Early tomorrow morning. Before you leave for the airfield,” Kwasind said.

  When they walked into their suite, they found two soldiers with Ilmika Thorrsstein. She sat on a sofa, her hands folded on her lap, her back straight, her face haughty. Despite her dignity, she looked washed out. The coil of long blonde hair on top of her head was loose, with strands of straying hair, and she wore no makeup. Moreover, she wore a loose-fitting blouse and skirt of cheap dyed cotton, a slave girl’s garments.

  When she saw Two Hawks enter, her eyes widened and her lips parted. Evidently she had not been told whose apartment this was. Perhaps, she did not know what her lot was to be.

  Two Hawks dismissed the soldiers.

  She spoke first. “What am I doing here?”

  Two Hawks told her bluntly. She took the news without flinching.

  “You must be tired and hungry,” Two Hawks said. “Kwasind, bring her some food and wine.”

  “And then?” she said. She gazed steadily at him. He grinned at her until she flushed.

  “Not what you think,” he said. “I don’t want a woman who doesn’t desire me. I won’t force you.”

  She looked at the two Kinnukinuk girls, who had just come out of the kitchen.

  “What about them?”

  “They’re slaves. They won’t be staying tonight. You can sleep in their room. What’s more, you can lock the door on the inside.”

  Suddenly, tears ran down her cheeks. Her lips quivered. She rose to her feet and then began to sob loudly. He put his arm around her shoulders and pressed her face against his chest. She cried violently for a few minutes before drawing away from him. He gave her a handkerchief to dry her tears. Kwasind appeared and said that her supper was ready in her room. Ilmika, without a word, followed Kwasind.

  When the giant had returned, Two Hawks said, “I’ll talk to her before she goes to sleep. She has to know what’s going on.”

  “Why are you doing this for her?”

  “Maybe I’m in love with her. Or maybe I’m hopelessly chivalric—a red-skinned Gawain. I don’t know. I do know I can’t just let her be locked up for the rest of her life or be sent to an army whorehouse.”

  Kwasind shrugged to indicate that he did not understand. But if Two Hawks wanted it that way, so be it.

  After a short and unrefreshing sleep, Two Hawks left the bedroom to go to the kitchen. He stopped when he saw a man in the recreation room talking to Kwasind. The stranger wore the blue- and-grey of a servant and carried a bundle of linen. He had long brown hair, a thick brown moustache, and a hawk nose. His name—his real name—was Rulf Andersson.

  Two Hawks ordered the two into his room. While Andersson busied himself changing the bedclothes, he talked in a low voice.

  “Kwasind told me your plan. You’re insane!”

  “Would Blodland like to have a brand-new flying machine?” Two Hawks said. “A readymade model the possession of which would cut months off of the designing and building of others? My plan isn’t impossible. In fact, it’s the very daring, the very unexpectedness of it, that will aid its success.”

  “I don’t know,” Andersson said, “It’s fantastic.”

  “Can you get in touch with your compatriots in Tyrsland?”

  “Yes. But to set up what you want, we need a few days.”

  “No extra time,” Two Hawks said. “Raske is bound to notice the auxiliaries sooner or later. Or somebody will tell him about them. We have to move fast. Day after tomorrow, the latest.”

  “All right, we’ll do it. I’ll see Kwasind later, and he’ll tell you if we’ll be able to make it.”

  Two Hawks explained his plan in detail and made sure that Andersson knew exactly what was required. The agent left. Two Hawks tried the door to Ilmika’s room. It was locked.

  “Kwasind, you stay here today. We have to pretend we are going along with the idea she’s my slave. So you make her do some work here, dust, cook, and so on. Get her some makeup and pretty clothes. I wouldn’t want my slave mistress to be unattractive, would I?”

  He left for the airfield. He was busy that day, since he also had to do Raske’s work. The German was at a conference with the High Command. This was fine with Two Hawks. He did more work on the auxiliary tanks and then took the plane up for a flight test of the apparatus. After landing, he was met by the officer in charge of assembling two planes in the rear of the hangar. The officer told him that the planes were ready for installation of their gas tanks. The auxiliaries would have to be removed from the plane and the attachments cut off. He was sorry, but there were no other tanks on hand to use.

  “Very well,” Two Hawks said. “Do it tomorrow.”

  “But Raske ordered that the planes be assembled without delay. The second and third shifts can install the tanks tonight.”

  Scowling, Two Hawks spoke harshly.

  “I want Raske to see my auxiliaries. They’ll extend the range of our planes by a hundred miles. No, this is far more important than a day’s hold up on those machines. I order you to leave those gas tanks alone.”

  “My men won’t have anything to do! Raske will hold me responsible for the delay!”

  “I’ll take full responsibility,” Two Hawks said. “You and your men take the night off. You’ve been working too hard. I’ll sign the order for a night’s leave.”

  The officer seemed reluctant, but he saluted and then walked off to tell the others the new orders. Two Hawks watched him. There was a chance the officer might phone Raske to get verification of the change. If Raske heard of this, he would guess at once what the American meant to do.

  Two Hawks went after the officer.

  “You seem to be worrying that you may get into trouble,” he said. “I suggest you call Raske now. If he orders you to continue work, then do so. I will still be responsible for any delay up to the moment you get into contact with him.”

  The officer brightened. He hastened away, only to return in ten minutes with a frustrated expression. “He is in conference. He refused to talk to me but did send word that if I had any problems, I was to go to you.”

  “So, you see, you have no more responsibility.”

  Two Hawks breathed easier; his gamble had paid off.


  Kwasind met Two Hawks the moment he walked into the suite.

  “Andersson says that the agents in Tyrsland have been informed about the change in plans. And the agents at the emergency field are ready, just in case. Andersson can’t tell us any more until tomorrow morning. But he’s very worried. If the winds along the coast are too strong, the plane can’t be gotten out.”

  “In that case, we’ll have to forget about the plane and take the fishing boat,” Two Hawks said. “Where’s Ilmika?”

  “She just went into her room.”

  Two Hawks knocked at her door. It swung open to reveal a different woman—on the outside, anyway. Her Psyche knot was flawless, her eyes were made up, and her lips rouged. She was wearing a Neo-Cretan gown, cut low in front, a golden belt tight around her waist, and a hoop skirt with a broad V in front which showed a rich silk petticoat.

  “Her Ladyship looks beautiful,” he said. “However, you’ll have to change into something less attractive but more durable and unrestraining. Can you look like a Perkunishan soldier?”

  She laughed and said, “I’ve been cutting and sewing all day to refit one of your uniforms.”

  Seeing him raise his eyebrows, she said, “Blodlandish ladies have slaves or servants to do the work, but they’re still taught all the domestic arts. How can we properly educate and supervise our slaves if we know nothing ourselves?”

  “That seems sensible,” he replied. He had much to say about slavery, most of it condemnation. This was, however, no time for discussion.

  “We’ll leave early enough to get to the airfield before daybreak. I’ve purposely not held to a rigid schedule, so there’ll be no suspicions about variations in departure.”

  She looked so fresh and beautiful that he wanted to kiss her. He restrained the impulse, knowing that she would be offended. Even if she were attracted to him, she could show no more affection towards him than towards any faithful servant or devoted commoner.

  He said goodnight to her and went to bed. He fell asleep at once and, it seemed a minute later, was being shaken by Kwasind.

  “It can’t be time yet?”

  “No. You’re wanted on the phone. It’s Raske.”

  “At this hour?” By the dim light of the gas jet, he looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was 2 a.m.

  “What the hell can he want?”

  Kwasind said, “I don’t know. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

  Two Hawks lurched into the next room and picked up the phone. There was a hiss and crackle on the line, and Raske’s voice sounded a little blurred. The Perkunishan system of reproducing voice left much to be desired.

  “Raske?”

  “Two Hawks!” Raske exploded. “What’re you trying to pull? As if I didn’t know! You ought to be smarter than that, my Indian friend!”

  Two Hawks said, “What are you talking about?”

  Raske told him. It was as Two Hawks had feared. The worrywart in charge of assembly had not been reassured enough. After agonizing for a long time, he had tried again to get hold of Raske. This time, he succeeded in reaching the German, who was at a party given by the Kassandras’ wife. As soon as Raske was told about the auxiliaries, he had guessed Two Hawks’ purpose.

  “I’m not going to say anything to anybody about this,” Raske said. “I like you. What’s more important, I need you. So you’re getting off easily. But you’re going to have less freedom. You’ll follow a schedule to the minute; I’ll know where you are and what you’re doing every second of the day and night.”

  Raske paused. Two Hawks did not reply. With a slightly plaintive tone, the German resumed.

  “Why do you want to run off? You’ve got it made here. Blodland can’t give you a thing. Besides, Blodland is doomed. It’ll be conquered by this time next year.”

  “I’m just not sympatico with the Perkunishans,” Two Hawks said. “They remind me of the Germans too much.”

  “You red-skinned swine!”

  Raske stopped again. Two Hawks could hear him breathing heavily. Then, “One more trick, and you go to the firing squad! Or to the torture chamber! Do you understand me?”

  “I get you,” Two Hawks said. “Anything else? I want to get back to bed.”

  Surprisingly, Raske laughed. “You’re a cool one. I like that. Very well. You will leave your suite at exactly 6 a.m. and will report to the airfield commander as soon as you arrive. Moreover, your slave Kwasind, is to be restricted to the suite. I’ll notify your guards at once. Another thing. If you don’t behave, your little blonde playmate will be taken away. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Two Hawks said. He hung up.

  13

  He repeated Raske’s conversation to Kwasind. The giant listened without change of expression. He said, “What now?”

  “It’s now or never. We can’t go out the front way, so we’ll use the back.”

  Kwasind looked puzzled. Two Hawks said, “Out the window. You try playing Hercules with the steel bars of my bedroom window. I’ll wake Ilmika.”

  Five minutes later, he and Ilmika entered his bedroom. She was in the uniform of an officer of the Perkunishan Imperial Air Force. Her cap sat snugly on her head, since she had cut off her long hair.

  Kwasind had torn one bar out of its stone socket and was bending another. The two watched him in awe. Slowly, the inch-thick steel curved. Kwasind, face impassive and free of strain, feet braced against the wall, pulled. Just before the separation of the bar ends from the stone, he lowered his feet to the floor. Now the lower part of his body was against the wall, and the upper part bowed outwards. Screeching, the steel tore loose. Kwasind caught himself, bent his knees, half-turned. He placed the bar on the carpet and grinned.

  “We can squeeze through now.”

  They cut strips from the bedsheets and knotted the ends together. They had just enough material to make a strong, double-thick rope which reached from the third-story window to about five feet from the ground. Two Hawks scanned the broad street and sidewalk below. There was no one in sight. However, he knew that a sentinel was stationed at the north exit, to their right. He was on the other side of a massive pillar. Unless he stepped out on to the great portico, he would not see the white ribbon hanging along the outer wall.

  “Stick that bar in your belt,” Two Hawks said to Kwasind. “I’ll take the other. We might need them.”

  He went through the window first. He slid out without hesitation, having tested the security of the knot at the upper end. This was tied to a bedpost. Hand under hand, he descended swiftly. When he dropped to the ground, he looked around. No one had appeared on the street yet. Umika followed him a minute later, then, Kwasind.

  Two Hawks led them down the street, away from the guard at the north door. He wanted a car, but they walked four long blocks—over a mile—before they found one. Rather, it almost found them. A glare of headlights from a sidestreet warned them just in time. They ran into a deep doorway and pressed against the door to be as far as possible in the shadow. Two Hawks decided he would have to risk a peek. The car sounded as if it were traveling slowly enough for him to run up to it and jump upon the running board.

  He looked and saw the white body of a topless car and the image of a knight in armour with raised sword on its hood. It was a police car with three men in it. He told Kwasind what to do. Both had the bars in their hands. The hood of the vehicle drew even with the doorway. Two Hawks said, “Now!” He ran out with the bar held slantwise in front of him, Kwasind even with him.

  The patrolmen had been talking. They stopped, rigid and speechless for a second with surprise. Then the driver slammed on the brakes when he should have stepped on the accelerator. Two Hawks leaped up into the top of the rear door and hurled himself at the man sitting in the rear seat. He swung the steel bar as he did so. The patrolman stood up and raised his rifle to parry the blow.

  There was a clung as the bar drove against the gun barrel. Both fell on the seat with Two Hawks on top.

  Two Hawks, using the bar as a
sword, jammed its end into the man’s mouth. A rifle exploded, almost in his ear, but if it had been aimed at him it had missed.

  The patrolman’s teeth broke. Two Hawks got to a kneeling position on the man’s chest and leaned his weight on the bar. It entered the throat, and, despite the frenzied efforts of the patrolman to push it out, remained there. His eyes bulged; his face darkened. Suddenly, he quit struggling.

  Two Hawks held the bar until he was certain the man was dead. He rose, took the bar out, and turned his attention to the others. Kwasind had no need of him. The driver was lying on his side on the seat, his neck was broken by a blow from Kwasind’s bar. The other, the man who had fired the rifle, had been knocked out of the car. He, too, was dead, strangled by Kwasind.

  “You hit?” Two Hawks said.

  “His rifle went off as I knocked it downwards,” Kwasind said. “I’m all right.”

  Two Hawks looked up and down the street. If anyone had heard the gunfire, they were making no outcry about it. He dragged the corpse off the back seat and on to the pavement. While he restarted the motor and became acquainted with the controls, Kwasind dragged all three bodies into the doorway. A few minutes later, armed with revolvers and single-shot rifles, they drove off. Two Hawks followed the route taken to the airfield every morning. Twice, they passed patrol cars going the other way. The drivers tooted at them, Two Hawks tooted back, and that was all. Two Hawks asked Kwasind if he knew where the Blodlandish agents were located. He had some hope that they could be used to make a diversion, as originally planned. Kwasind replied that his contact had refused to give him that information.

  “Then we’ll have to do this by ourselves—The Lonesome Three. The only trouble is, we’re way ahead of schedule. I’ll bet that worrywart officer went back to the hanger and had the auxiliary tanks removed. That means we’ll have to land once to refuel before we get to the coast. If the Blodlandish don’t have the gas ready, we’re screwed.”