A BARNSTORMER IN OZ by Philip José Farmer Read online

  Hank had thought that the Quadling technology was at about what it had been on Earth in A.D. 1300. But even A.D. 1923 did not have this fire-quenching foam. He had better wait until he was familiar with this culture before he made any conclusions about the comparative advancement of science and technology here and on Earth.

  He could now get near enough for a closer look at the wreck. Breathing through his mouth because of the stomach-churning stench of roasted flesh, he walked around the wreck and also looked at the pieces that had been scattered by the two impacts. The hawk had reported correctly. The fuselage had been severed about three feet behind the rear cockpit as if by a giant’s sword. The missing part might be out on the desert to the south, but he doubted it. It was probably lying on Kansas soil.

  The burned and twisted skeleton of the plane looked like that of a D.H.4B, a two-seater scout and light bomber biplane. The Army Air Service had over a thousand of them. It usually carried two .30-caliber machine guns in front of the pilot in the front cockpit and one mounted by the rear cockpit. The two fore guns, bent, lay about thirty yards ahead of the wreck. There was no third machine gun visible. Hank thought that it may have been removed from its mounting before the plane took off for the fatal mission.

  Normally, the D.H.4B carried two men, but there was only one, the charred mass in the pilot’s seat.

  However, the crash had hurled from the rear cockpit some cartons of ammunition, a BAR (Browning Automatic .30-caliber assault rifle) 1918 model, a smashed camera, and cases containing film. The BAR was undamaged except for some scratches.

  He stood by while soldiers got the body out of the cockpit. When it was laid out on the rock, he forced himself to approach it. Though he had seen some badly burned corpses in France and two at a Missouri landing strip, he felt like vomiting. The gloves and clothes had been burned away, and the boots fell off in strips while the body was being carried. The fingers were missing. The face was smashed in, but it would have been gone anyway. The goggles had been knocked off the head. The ears and nose were gone, and the eyesockets were empty.

  He looked into the black mass of the face and wondered what the pilot had looked like when alive. Grimacing, he searched for dog tags but could find none. If the man had identifying papers on him, they had been destroyed by fire. However, the two gold bars embedded in the fried flesh showed that he had been a first lieutenant.

  A soldier brought a charred belt and holster containing a Colt .45 automatic pistol. The ammunition in its clip had exploded and destroyed the weapon.

  However, some of the boxes thrown out of the rear cockpit held loaded magazine boxes for the BAR, and others contained ammunition which would fit his New Service revolver. And he had plans for making more.

  Glinda seemed to be undisturbed by the ghastly stinking thing on the rock. Some of the soldiers, however, were retching, and many were as pale as he probably looked.

  Glinda asked him some questions about the airplane. Hank replied that the flying machine was a military one. He was assuming that it had been sent through the green haze on orders.

  “Are you thinking as I am?” she said. “That the hazes through which you and this man came through are not natural openings? That they were made by your people?”

  “I may be wrong,” he said, “but they could be the results of experiments by the Signal Corps. Its headquarters are at Fort Leavenworth. Still...”

  He did not believe that forcing the openings could have been the goal of the Signal Corps. These had come about as accidental byproducts—what was the word?—serendipitous, from serendipity, coined by Horace Walpole in the eighteenth century? At least, the first time had been unforeseen, but the second time must have been on purpose.

  “If they were formed by your people,” she said, “they don’t know how to keep them stable. And you must have accidentally come across one and flown through. I wonder if that was their first attempt or if others had been made before then?”

  “I don’t know. They must have been surprised when I disappeared into the haze. If they saw me, that is. But I think they did. That would explain why they sent an Army plane through.”

  The big brass must be wondering what the hell is going on, he thought. They had probably clamped a security lid on the project. Though they had probably done that from the beginning, before the haze appeared.

  Glinda gave some orders. A leather bag was brought from a wagon, and the body was stuffed into it. Six of the huskier troops carried it off and placed it on top of a firefighting wagon and tied it down with ropes. Hank marvelled at Glinda’s foresight in bringing the bag. She must have been shaken by the plane’s sudden appearance and destruction. Yet she had calmly made arrangements for the disposal of the body. In fact, since she could not know how many men there were in the craft, she’d ordered six leather bags.

  At Hank’s request, Glinda had the machine guns put on the wagon.

  “Is there anything else you’d like brought to the castle? We should be leaving as soon as possible.”

  She looked up at the bright blue sky where at least a hundred birds, lookouts, were wheeling. If they spotted a nearby fizhanam, they’d notify her.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  They walked back through the desert and rode the chariots to the castle. The body was taken on a cart down a ramp into the underground. Hank had expected to be questioned by the queen, but she told Captain Lamblo to take care of Hank. If he wished to go to town or retire to his apartment, whatever he wished, she should see that it was done.

  “Within reason, my dear,” Glinda said, and she smiled.

  Glinda went off accompanied by her high-ranking officers and government officials. Hank looked down at the exquisite little blonde, who was smiling up at him.

  She must be tired of looking up my nostrils, he thought. In some ways, it’s an advantage to be a giant. In other ways, no.

  Though he was twice as tall as she, he did not scare her. Almost from the beginning of their acquaintance, she had been at ease with him, maybe too familiar. She could be a smartass now and then.

  “Well, magla (little boy), what is your desire?” she said, smiling.

  “I think, mawlo (little girl), that I’ll check up on my luftskip (airship).”

  “Very well. You may look at it, but the queen said that you couldn’t—not yet, anyway—get into it.”

  “Her trust warms the cockles of my heart. Where did she think I could go?”

  But if he’d been in Glinda’s place, he would have done the same.

  They rode in her chariot to the meadow where the hangar had been built around the Jenny. There were also two guards there at all-times to keep the curious from damaging her. Hank was delighted when he saw the plane’s painted smiling face. It was like seeing an old friend, his only reminder of Earth.

  He gave her a good inspection while Lamblo watched him as she chatted with the two female soldiers. She wasn’t the only one with eyes on him. The two cows nearby observed him with their big brown eyes and occasionally made low remarks in the eerie voices. They resembled Black Anguses except for their size. Hank glanced at them now and then, seeing not the living animals but thick juicy rare-done steaks. Though he felt ashamed, as if he were contemplating cannibalism, he could not dissolve the mental image nor stanch the saliva flow.

  He would soon have to replace his gasoline with grain alcohol. He would have to increase the size of the jet openings to the carburetor because alcohol was less efficient as fuel. That was no problem. The Quadlings had the equipment to do that. He would also have to advance the spark ignition because alcohol burned slower than gasoline. The engine would give him starting problems, but he could get ether to put into the carburetor before he started it. His flight range would be shorter.

  There was plenty of castor oil to use for engine lubrication.

  Spare parts would be a problem. He would also need replacement batteries, but he could get these made—he hoped.

  There was no rubber for the two wheel
s, but he could use ironrimmed wooden wheels. The landings would be harder, but what the hell.

  He would have to train mechanics....

  Suddenly, he knew that he was planning on staying here. Why not? He was like a 20th-century Columbus who’d discovered, not a continent, but an entire planet.

  Yet... if a green Tlaze should show up and he could fly back through it to Earth, would he turn away from it?

  He did not know yet. The chances were that he would never have to make a decision.

  Having satisfied himself that the Jenny was ready to fly at a moment’s notice, he left the barn. Lamblo, giggling at something a guard had said, followed him. They rode into the town, which held about ten thousand citizens, not counting the animals and birds. Its red-brick main street ran for six blocks and was lined mostly with stores selling various goods. The sidestreets near it were mixed residential and business areas, and these were not longer than four blocks.

  The big square was where the farmers and vendors came to sell their products. The town hall, the military recruiting headquarters, a printing press, the weekly local newspaper, library, two temples, and some other buildings also fronted the square.

  “Suthwarzha (Southguard) is the largest community of Quadlingland,” Lamblo said. “It’s as big as the capital of Oz, though not nearly as splendid, from what I’ve heard.”

  Oz, which had an area about equal to Rhode Island’s, was the central sovereign state of this oasis-land. It was bordered on the north by Gillikinland, on the east by Munchkinland, on the west by Winkieland, and on the south by Quadlingland. The northwest part of Gillikinland, however, was where the dark-skinned Natawey dwelt. Hank’s mother had not reported that because she had never heard of it.

  Nor was the entire oasis-land called Oz. Readers of Baum’s first book knew that Oz was the small country in the middle of the land and not the name for the whole area. But in his second book, Baum decided to extend the name to cover the whole land.

  Hank had been so influenced by Baum’s series that he tended to think of the oasis-country as the Land of Oz, though he knew better.

  Now, as he walked under the bright sky through the noisy crowded market of the town square, he thought of many things. It was impossible for him to concentrate on one subject because there were so many distractions. A cross section of an alien culture was around him.

  What occupied his mind for a moment was the role and status of animals. He saw a group of men, women, beasts, and birds entering the granite three-story-high town hall. He asked the blonde about them. Lamblo said that they were the elected representatives of the Quadling people. Hank decided that they would be called senators in the U.S. He felt again the slight disorientation and numbness of mind. Cattle, moose, deer, sheep, eagles, robins, cats, and... bullsnakes! These were senators?

  “Why not?” Lamblo said.

  Hank did not answer that. He would have had to describe the difference between American and Quadling political systems, and that would have plunged him into the lack of sentiency in Terrestrial animals, and that would have swept him into only-God-knew-what. He was here to learn, not to teach. At least, he was as of today.

  He was told that, though nonhumans were citizens and had the right to vote, they were the descendants of slaves. In many respects, they were still second class. They just were not as intelligent, in the main, anyway, as humans. They had never produced philosophy, music, literature, painting, sculpture, science, technology, and new institutions. They were dominated by instinct much more than their human cousins were.

  Hank questioned her further. In this world, all governments except the Natawey’s were benevolent despotisms. Though sometimes, as during the reign of the late Witches of the East and the West, the despotism had been malevolent.

  However, though the supreme rulership was based on heredity or a coup d’etat or just the very long life of the ruler, there was no nobility and the lower levels of government were quite democratic. The officials of the local and county governments and much of the state government were elected by popular vote.

  “How long have women had the vote?” Hank said. He was thinking that in his own country, up until a little more than two years ago, they had been denied suffrage in most states.

  “For at least a thousand years,” Lamblo said.

  In America, Negroes had the right to vote but were afraid in many areas to go to the polls. And Indians were denied the right.

  “A philosopher of my world, I forget his name, said that the best government was a benevolent despotism. The main trouble with that system was that the despot died, and usually someone not so benevolent took over the reins of power.”

  “Is that so?” Lamblo said. “We haven’t had that disadvantage in Quadlingland. Our queen has reigned over us for almost three hundred years.”

  Hank would have been more staggered by this revelation if he had not been conditioned to accept it by Baum’s Oz series. Though he had thought that Glinda’s longevity was a fiction, some part of his mind had accepted it as true.

  “She looks as if she is only twenty-five.”

  “She’s looked that way for two hundred and seventy-five years.”

  “What’s her secret?”

  “Witchcraft, of course,” Lamblo looked puzzled. “But she is a white witch. Her long life and non-aging come from a different source than that of the red witches.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I don’t know. If I did, I’d be a witch, too.”

  She wrinkled her snub nose. “Maybe. It takes great courage, some say great foolishness, to be a witch or wizard. And, though the advantages are great, there is always a great price to pay.”

  “What is the price?”

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t dare ask Queen Glinda, and even the priests and priestesses won’t say. Probably because they don’t know.”

  If there was true magic in this world, then its principles of physics were not quite the same as in his world. But he had had evidence from the beginning that this was not just an exact counterpart of Earth.

  He shook his head as if his thoughts were drops of water he was trying to shake off. Too much data was coming in too fast. He was confused. To the confused, the world was chaos. He needed time and experience to sort out the facts. He had to organize them into a system his mind could be comfortable with.

  He would not, however, be as comfortable as these people. They apparently just accepted what was and did not question it. But then, he was, in his own world, much like them. Why did he accept the “law” of gravity, for instance? Or the principle that all people were, in theory at least, politically equal? Or that he had a right to eat meat because cows and pigs could not speak?

  Yes, but what about the carnivorous domestic creatures, the cats and hawks? What did they eat?

  He sighed. He must be patient, take his time.

  Nevertheless, he could not stop asking questions.

  Hank knew from the maps his instructors had shown him that this oasis-land was about the area of Alaska. People had been here for thousands of years, yet it was not crowded. There were many large forests and comparatively uninhabited mountain areas. Why was the land not jammed with humans? Especially when they seemed to be much healthier, much less disease-ridden, than those on Earth?

  “The wise rulers of the past knew that they would soon run out of land on which to grow crops for the ever-increasing people. The trees would all be cut down. The rivers and lakes would be poisoned. There would be terrible wars for the land and the water. In time, this green land might become like the desert surrounding it.

  “So they used a medicine made from a Natawey plant. This made males sterile while it was being taken. And laws were passed that only so many babies could be born, just enough to replace the dead. Of course, the number of babies was allowed to increase until the number of people had reached the estimated maximum. I mean, the maximum that the land could support and still have many woods. Though it was long ago determined that t
his land could feed and house even more, it was decreed that the limit not be exceeded. That was a thousand years ago, and since then the laws have been strictly enforced.”

  Hank was skeptical. What about passion and negligence?

  What happened when the male neglected to take the contraceptive but nevertheless impregnated a woman? What about the babies born from rape?

  “No innocents of Guth (God) are killed!” Lamblo said. “That would be horrible! Unthinkable! Surely, your people don’t murder babies?”

  Hank hesitated, then said, “Only from anger or cruelty or negligence or indifference or madness. It...”