The Gate of Time

“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 Ki

“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-ski

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!”