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                              War No. 81-Q

                                   by
                            Cordwainer Smith
                            a pseudonym for
                     Paul Myron Anthony Linebarger

      First appeared in _The Adjutant_, Vol. IX, No 1, June 1928.
        This was a Linebarger's first published story, appearing
                     in a high school publication.
       Note this story was later rewritten; this is the original.




(“Karloman Jungahr”)

It came to war.

Tibet and America, each claiming the Radiant Heat Monopoly, applied for
a War Permit for 2127, A.D.

The Universal War Board granted it, stating, of course, the conditions.
It was, after a few compromises and amendments had been effected,
accepted by the belligerent nations.

The conditions were:

a. Five 22,000-ton aero-ships, combinations of aero and dirigible, were
to be the only combatants.

b. They were to be armed with machine-guns firing nonexplosive bullets
only.

c. The War Territory of Kerguelen was to be rented by the two nations,
the United American Nations and the Mongolian Alliance, for the two
hours of the war, which was to begin on January 5, 2127, at noon.

d. The nation vanquished was to pay all the expenses of the war,
excepting the War Territory Rent.

e. No human beings should be on the battlefield. The Mongolian
controllers must be in Lhasa; the American ones, in the City of
Franklin.

The belligerent nations had no difficulty in renting the War Territory
of Kerguelen. The rent charged by the Austral League was, as usual,
forty million dollars an hour.

Spectators from all over the world rushed to the borders of the
Territory, eager to obtain good places. Q-ray telescopes came into
tremendous demand.

Mechanics carefully worked over the giant war-machines.

The radio-controls, delicate as watches, were brought to perfection,
both at the control stations in Lhasa and in the City of Franklin, and
on the war-flyers.

The planes arrived on the minute decided.

Controlled by their pilots thousands of miles away, the great planes
swooped and curved, neither fleet daring to make the first move.

There were five American ships, the _Prospero_, _Ariel_, _Oberon_,
_Caliban_, and _Titania_, and five Chinese ships, rented by the
Mongolians, the _Han_, _Yuen_, _Tsing_, _Tsin_, and _Sung_.

The Mongolian fleet incurred the displeasure of the spectators by
casting a smoke screen, which greatly interfered with the seeing. The
_Prospero_, every gun throbbing, hurled itself into the smoke screen and
came out on the other side, out of control, quivering with
incoordinating machinery. As it neared the boundary, it was blown up by
its pilot, safe and sound, thousands of miles away. But the sacrifice
was not in vain. The _Han_ and _Sung_, both severely crippled, swung
slowly out of the mist. The _Han_, with a list that clearly showed it
was doomed, was struck by a lucky shot from the _Caliban_ and fell
several hundred feet, its left wing ablaze. But for a second or two, the
pilot regained control, and, with a single shot, disabled the _Caliban_,
and then the _Han_ fell to its doom on the rocky islands below.

The _Caliban_ and _Sung_ continued to drift, firing at each other. As
soon as it was seen that neither would be of any further use in the
battle, they were, by common consent, taken from the field.

There now remained three ships on each side, darting in and out of the
smoke screen, occasionally ascending to cool the engines.

Among the spectators, excitement prevailed, for it was announced from
the City of Franklin that a new and virtually unknown pilot, Jack
Bearden, was going to take command of three ships at once! And never
before had one pilot commanded, by radio, more than two ships! Besides,
two of the most famous Mongolian aces, Baartek and Soong, were on the
field, while an even more famous person, the Chinese mercenary T’ang,
commanded the _Yuen_.

The Americans among the spectators protested that a pilot so young and
inexperienced should not be allowed to endanger the ships.

The Government replied that it had a thorough confidence in Bearden’s
abilities.

But when the young pilot stepped before the television screen, on which
was pictured the battle, and the maze of controls, he realized that his
ability had been overestimated, by himself and by everyone else.

He climbed up on the high stool and reached for the speed control
levers, which were directly behind him. He leaned back, and fell! His
head struck against two buttons: and he saw the _Oberon_ and _Titania_
blow themselves up.

The three enemy ships cooperated in an attack on the _Ariel_. Bearden
swung his ship around and rushed it into the smoke screen.

He saw the huge bulk of the _Tsing_ bear down upon him. He fired
instinctively—and hit the control center.

Dodging aside as the _Tsing_ fell past him, he missed the _Tsin_ by
inches. The pilot of the _Tsin_ shot at the reinforcements of the
_Ariel_’s right wing, loosening it.

For a few moments, he was alone, or, rather, the _Ariel_ was alone. For
he was at the control board in the War Building in the City of Franklin.

The _Yuen_, controlled by the master-pilot T’ang, rose up from beneath
him, shot off the end of his left wing, and vanished into the mists of
the smoke screen before the astonished Bearden was able to register a
single hit.

He had better luck with the _Tsin_. When this swooped down on the
_Ariel_, he disabled its firing control. Then, when this plane rose from
beneath, intending to ram itself into the _Ariel_, Bearden dropped half
his machine-guns overboard. They struck the _Tsin_, which exploded
immediately.

Now only the _Ariel_ and the _Yuen_ remained! Master-pilot faced
master-pilot.

Bearden placed a lucky shot in the _Yuen_’s rudder, but only partially
disabled it.

Yuen threw more smoke-screen bombs overboard.

Bearden rose upward; no, he was still safe and sound in America, but the
_Ariel_ rose upward.

The spectators in their helicopters blew whistles, shot off pistols,
went mad in applause.

T’ang lowered the _Yuen_ to within several hundred feet of the water.

He was applauded, too.

Bearden inspected his ship with the autotelevisation. It would collapse
at the slightest strain.

He wheeled his ship to the right, preparatory to descending.

His left wing broke under the strain: and the _Ariel_ began hurtling
downward. He turned his autotelevisation on the _Yuen_, not daring to
see the ship, which carried his reputation, his future, crash.

The _Yuen_ was struck by his left wing, which was falling like a stone.
The _Yuen_ exploded forty-six seconds later.

And, by international law, Bearden had won the war for America, with it
the honors of war and the possession of the enormous Radiant Heat
revenue.

All the world hailed this Lindbergh of the twenty-second century.




                           TRANSCRIBER NOTES


Mis-spelled words and printer errors have been fixed.



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