A BARNSTORMER IN OZ by Philip José Farmer

by A Barnstormer In Oz V1. 1(Lit)

  “Even so,” the Scarecrow said, “the Gillikins will break out of the woods within a few days. We won’t be able to stop them in their march to the city. The country’s too open. Tell Glinda that all I can do now is to prepare for a siege. That ought to tie down most of their army.”

  “She probably already knows that,” Hank said.

  “Yes, probably. But she has to get the news officially.”

  A hawk arrived with an order from Glinda. Hank was to forget about the planned strafing of the Gillikins. He took off three days later. He felt tired and defeated but not discouraged.

  Stover reported the latest developments to Glinda.

  “All bad news, I’m afraid.”

  “No,” the queen said. “Not all. You must have slain almost a fourth of Erakna’s hawks, and that means that her intelligence and messenger force is greatly reduced. Also, you dealt a heavy blow to the Winged Monkeys.

  “However, the Uneatable will have learned from her two encounters with you. The next time she sets a trap for you, she’ll do it differently.”

  “Why am I so important to her?”

  “It’s not you so much as it is the airplane. She must have an exaggerated idea of the danger it represents to her armed forces.”

  Hank winced, but he had to admit that she was right. Jenny’s main use was just carrying passengers. She could have been of limited benefit in strafing or bombing the invaders if it were not for the hawks and eagles. But these could bring him down fairly easy. He had been lucky escaping them. Also, the hawks were far superior scouts.

  Now, if only he could have an MB-3A pursuit plane. No use thinking about ifs, though.

  “You’re not the only teller of bad news,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “The day before Erakna sent the Winged Monkeys after you, she killed Wulthag.”

  “Oh, my God! The East Witch is dead?”

  “Yes. Somehow, Erakna got through her defenses and incinerated her. A Gillikin army is marching almost unhindered to the Munchkin capital. Old Mombi is with it; she’s to be the ruler, subject, of course, to Erakna.”

  “That’s terrible!”

  “Not altogether. Erakna is spreading her forces too thin. She’ll have a hard time conducting a war on three fronts. Four fronts when she starts invading Quadlingland. The Gillikins are already short-handed on the farmlands. She’ll probably bring in slaves from the conquered areas to replace the farmers. But they’ll have to be guarded, and she’ll have to use a lot of soldiers to do that. She’ll also have to tie down many soldiers and occupation troops.”

  “Could she also have thought about capturing me so she could question me? She must be very curious about me. Maybe she thinks that I have knowledge that she could use, especially of weapons.”

  Glinda sipped berry juice, then said, “You’re very shrewd, Hank. Like your mother. Yes, I suppose that was in her mind, but she obviously preferred that you should be killed. She is more concerned about how much you might help me than about possible aid to her.”

  Hank hesitated, then said, “Pardon me, Little Mother I...”

  “Call me Glinda when we’re alone. I get tired of titles.”

  “Well, uh, Glinda, I wonder... that is, when Erakna attacked Wulthag, she must have used up a lot of energy. Wouldn’t she be weaker then, her defenses not so strong? Why didn’t you take the opportunity then to attack her?”

  Glinda’s eyes narrowed, though she smiled.

  “Erakna used up much energy when she attacked, yes. But by the time I detected that, she’d slain Wulthag. Poor dear. As soon as Wulthag died, Erakna immediately took over Wulthag’s store of energy. That not only recharged Erakna, it made her stronger than before. That’s why I did not attack.”

  “Thank you for the explanation,” Hank said. “Though it’s not really so illuminating. I need a clear and detailed description of both the theory and the practice of magic.”

  “You’d have to go through the discipline of witch-art,” she said. “That’d take years, and it’d be very dangerous. Out of every hundred who begin training, half quit before they get very far. Out of the remaining fifty, only two or three, if that, become full-fledged witches or wizards. The others... die.

  “I should modify that. A few settle for being minor witches. Like Mombi, for instance.”

  “Why don’t you attack her?”

  “I will when conditions are right.”

  She told him to make out his report for the Signal Corps and she would read it. When the green haze came again, he should have everything ready. She might wish to censor it, however.

  “They just won’t believe it,” he said.

  “Even if they think you’re crazy, they’ll keep trying. They might attempt to send through another flier. Or, perhaps, many. Once they can control the size and duration of the opening, they’ll invade. I’m sure of that.”

  “I’m not. You’re very worried about disease. But they’ll be just as concerned about the diseases here. They could be wide open to them.”

  “But we don’t have any. None for them to worry about, anyway.”

  “They don’t know that. You made sure of that.”

  “Did I?”

  “Sure. What makes you think you didn’t?”

  “I’ve had three hundred years experience, but I still run across people who are so tricky that even they fool me now and then. Human ingenuity is deep and complex, and it’s most ingenious when it’s involved with crime or war. You’re tricky, and you haven’t declared for us. I wouldn’t believe you if you did say you were on our side.”

  She paused.

  “I might if you marry Lamblo. But even then I couldn’t be sure of your loyalty. You could marry her as a ploy.”

  “Damn it! I’m not that deceitful! I have integrity! I’m honest! If I was such a double-dealing swine, I’d have jumped at the chance to marry Lamblo!”

  “Cool down,” she said, smiling. “You’re as hot-tempered as your mother. The difference between you two is that her anger was always appropriate. You’re not as self-secure. Of course, you might be faking indignation.”

  “I’m not very good at faking!”

  “Hotter and hotter. The point just now is what you would do if there was no danger from your people and your patriotism wasn’t being tried. Would you then marry Lamblo?”

  “I really don’t know,” he said. “I’m not in love with her. That is, I’m not possessed with headlong unthinking passion.”

  “Passion isn’t always love. In fact, it seldom is. If you’re waiting for that...”

  Hank said nothing.

  “Whom are you waiting for? Anyone I know?”

  “There’s no woman on Earth...”

  “Here?”

  “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  There was a long silence. Glinda looked at the pile of papers waiting for her to study and sign or not sign. She sighed. Nobody else, he thought, could convey so much in just an exhalation. There was a deep, centuries-deep, weariness in it. Or, perhaps, not weariness but frustration. Or, perhaps, sadness. Or all three, not levels of them but inextricable strands.

  He felt as if he needed the relief of tears.

  At that moment, he loved her more than he ever had; he ached for her, but he also felt a shadow. And that was the darkness of understanding that he could never have her for mate or wife. She was human and beautiful, but she was also a very very old human. She would as soon take a year-old infant for lover as him.

  She raised her eyes and fixed him with them.

  “You’re in love with me, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, no,” he said quickly.

  He hated himself for the lie. Why had he blurted that out? Why was he afraid to admit the truth? Had he thought that he would offend her? Hurt her? A woman who had had three hundred years to form every defense against every kind of emotional hurt? Who probably did not even need defenses by now?

  She smiled slightly but said nothing. Those eyes. They looked
like the eyes of the Sphinx of Gizeh. Time-worn, they stared out into infinity and eternity, and these looked back at her, and she became part of them. No. Became them.

  Glinda came back from wherever she had been. She said, briskly, “Now. It’s very doubtful that your people, the Americans, will be able to open a way at ground level. For some reason, the weak places in the walls now seem to exist above the surface of the two worlds. The Americans won’t be able to send through ground troops. What are their chances for sending in an army in the flying machines?”

  Hank thought for about thirty seconds before speaking.

  “The Americans don’t have any large transport airplanes, civilian or military. They could buy some from the British, I suppose, but they would have a tough time keeping that from the public. And, as of now anyway, the whole project is highly secret. They could send in two-seater planes and some bombers, but the biggest bombers we have, in the Army, anyway, don’t carry more than three men. But the planes would also have to carry supplies, ammunition, and weapons. That means that they couldn’t carry the full complement.

  “Of course, if they operated quickly enough, they could establish a base which the first wave could defend while shuttle aircraft brought in more soldiers and supplies. But... I don’t know. If they wanted to keep the operation secret for some time, it’d have to be a small one. The more people involved, the higher the chance of someone talking.”

  “What if the officials decide to tell the public?”

  “They wouldn’t, I think, do that until their hand is forced. They don’t want other nations to know about this until they’re sure they’ve got a monopoly here. Also, they’d be risking reaction from their own people. There’s a lot of sentimentality about the fictional Land of Oz. Many people would be outraged if they knew that the military was invading this world. To tell the truth, I don’t know what they’re thinking there, what they hope to do.”

  Glinda, looking very determined, said, “What I want is the cutting-off of communication and travel between the two worlds. At least until the time, if it ever comes, that your world is more civilized.”

  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
.”