Planet of the Apes Omnibus 3 Page 2

  “I wish you could have seen it, Galen,” said Virdon. “The way it was…”

  The chimpanzee waved the idea away. “Obviously I can’t,” he said.

  “Maybe you’ll get a chance,” said Virdon. “I still hope that somewhere, somehow, we’ll find a way back.”

  Burke pointed to Virdon. “I’d be ready to certify that guy’s bananas, but I’m going along with him, so what does that make me?”

  Virdon smiled. “An optimist. What are you complaining about? When you were a kid, didn’t you always dream about camping out, roughing it, even if it was only in your backyard? Well, here’s your chance.” Virdon continued to make camp for the night.

  “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” said Burke, grumbling just a little. Taking Virdon’s example, he opened his backpack and rummaged through it. He continued to mutter under his breath. “He’s okay. Everybody else is crazy.”

  Virdon broke up small sticks and built a pile of kindling for their evening fire. Burke gathered the larger logs that would be needed. They worked together in silence: the routine they established during their travels, had become more habit than necessity.

  Galen, in the meantime had moved to the edge of the clearing and stood motionless, listening intently. At this time of the day, his normal chore was to break up the larger logs into usable sizes; with his greater strength, Galen wedged the limbs into the fork of a tree and pushed. Virdon and Burke were always amazed at the great power of the chimpanzee. They knew that the chimpanzees were, on the whole, smaller than the orangutans, the ruling class of the ape world, who were in turn dwarfed by the massive gorillas. It was no wonder that the human population, now shrunken into insignificance in both physical strength and number, had little hope of regaining its former dominance.

  But now, Galen did not join the humans in the work. Every few seconds he cocked his head, or turned it a few inches, his expression showing deep concentration. Virdon noticed this and was immediately concerned. “Do you hear something?”

  “Not yet,” said Galen, waving to Virdon to be silent.

  Burke, however, was startled by Galen’s strange reply. Why would the chimpanzee be listening so hard, if he hadn’t yet heard anything? Burke and Virdon stood up, and both men walked slowly and quietly to join Galen. “What are you expecting, then?” asked Burke.

  “Trouble,” said the chimpanzee.

  Burke looked annoyed. “What is this, crystal ball time?”

  Virdon gave Burke a quick glance, then tried to hold of! any resentment between his fellow astronaut and Galen. “All right,” he said to Galen, “what’s bothering you?”

  Galen’s answer was simple. “You,” he said.

  “Say it,” said Virdon.

  “When I joined you two,” said the chimpanzee, without any sign of anger or bitterness in his voice; he was merely reciting facts, “I knew I’d be facing the same danger you face, being recaptured. In fact, Urko may even have told his gorillas that I’m the first priority on his death list. I’m a renegade in the eyes of my own people. I accept that. But I did think that, under the circumstances, we’d try to protect each other.”

  Burke chewed his lip thoughtfully. He wondered what Galen could mean. Certainly, the three oddly matched friends had been joined by bonds of more than scientific curiosity; they recognized that they shared common enemies, and that their association might work to their mutual benefit. But this was true, just as Galen said, only as long as all three worked carefully for their joint protection. “Who isn’t protecting what?” asked Burke. “Or did I miss something?”

  Virdon knew immediately what the chimpanzee was referring to. “Hold it, Pete,” he said to his friend. He turned to Galen. “I’ve done something you object to Galen. I’m not sure that I know what it is. If you tell me, I’ll apologize or try to correct it. You know that I wouldn’t deliberately jeopardize you. That would be cutting my own throat. Let’s get this out into the open and settled.”

  Galen grunted. “You can’t pour water back into a broken bottle. You’ve said yourself, so many times, how careful we must be, how we mustn’t tell anyone about ourselves, who we are, where you’ve come from—”

  “Amy,” said Virdon flatly.

  “A child,” said Galen. “You trust her not only with your life and Burke’s, but with mine, also. Can you see my point of view?”

  “Yes,” said Virdon, “yes, of course. But you know that I never would have said anything unless I was certain that she would never talk.”

  “As sure as if you had not told her?” asked Galen.

  Virdon was silent. There wasn’t an answer to that. The chimpanzee was right; Virdon had needlessly and foolishly endangered not only himself, but also two others who were counting on him. He felt a little ashamed that he had failed their trust. His mental anguish was obvious from his expression; Pete Burke tried to salve it. “Knock it off,” he said. “Maybe the bottle’s broken, like Galen said, but arguing won’t paste it back together. Anyway, nobody’s come after us, yet—”

  Virdon recognized that Burke’s words were beside the point. He waved at Burke to be silent. Virdon turned to Galen. “You’re right, of course. I’m wrong. I should not have told her. She… well, I have a couple of children of my own. My daughter was… is about Amy’s age. Sure, I know that’s not an excuse, it’s only an explanation. I’m sorry, Galen.”

  There was silence for a moment in the forest clearing. No one spoke; the sound of the rushing stream grew louder, and the pleasant night noises of birds and insects made the scene seem more peaceful than it was. Perhaps that lulled Galen’s fears, at least for the time being. He raised a hand and spoke softly. He was evidently moved by Virdon’s sincere emotion and candor. “I didn’t think you meant any harm,” he said, “but why did you take the risk?”

  Burke clucked his tongue. “It’s getting late,” he said. “We have a stack of firewood to collect. We have our canteens to refill before it gets too dark. We ought to scout the area a little better before we settle down to supper. We have to clean up after we eat, in order to get an early start in the morning. We have all these things to occupy our time, and our friend Galen wants to get into psychoanalysis.”

  “Into what?” asked Galen.

  “Nothing,” said Burke, with a sigh. “You’re lucky. It’s something your ape culture hasn’t developed. It was a kind of ritual magic. Purification rites. Things like that.”

  “You humans continue to astound me,” said the chimpanzee. “Such things existing in the same society with the scientific wonders you always speak of. It must have been an odd time to live.”

  Burke and Virdon exchanged amused looks, but neither answered Galen. Burke went back to his wood gathering; Galen insisted on an answer from Virdon. The tall blond man thought for a few seconds. “It’s hard to say just why I told Amy,” he said at last. “Perhaps just a need to talk, to confide, to relate to someone who brought back the past for me. I can’t really explain it. Maybe you could just chalk it up to the fact that, despite all my expensive training, I’m still only human.”

  Galen nodded. He spoke with genuine sympathy. “Yes,” he said, “I forget now and then that you can’t help some of the weaknesses you have. As you say, you are only human.”

  Burke slapped his forehead. “Oh, brother,” he said. Virdon laughed. Galen looked puzzled. Then all three began to get their camp ready for the night.

  * * *

  The first evening stars were coming out in the sky over Trion. The sun had set, and a few clouds were blazing a bright carmine color in the west: Slowly the red left the sky, and the evening deepened. Along the main road that ran through the village, torches on poles were lit. Candles and oil lamps provided, light in the small huts, and bright squares of light marked the windows of the gorilla barracks on the hill over the village.

  Amy Talbert was carrying two pails of water from the village’s well to her home. The water splashed and fell on the ground about her as she walked; her father usually
took care of carrying the heavy pails, but tonight he felt too tired to do it. Amy moved carefully through the door of the hut; when she saw her father, she put the pails down and hurried to him. He seemed worse than he had been earlier in the day. Now he was only semiconscious. His body convulsed often, and his face was shiny with sweat. His delirious mutterings were often interrupted by gasping attempts to fill his lungs with air. Amy, terrified, knelt beside him. “Daddy,” she said.

  There was no response.

  “Daddy!” Amy watched in horror for a few moments, then ran out of the hut. In the evening gloom she stumbled over the rough ground, her eyes almost blind with tears. She ran to a nearby hut, tripped, and caught the edge of the door with one hand. With her other hand she opened the door. She was crying when she half stepped, half fell into the hut. “Help me!” she said desperately. “Help me, please! My father!”

  The hut was very much like the Talbert hut. The furniture was rough, hand-made, with few decorative touches. Indeed, there was little in the entire hut that was not purely functional; ornamentation was a luxury that the human race could no longer afford. Amy did not fear that her abrupt entrance into the home of her neighbors would cause any anger: the humans had long ago learned that they had to band together for their mutual support. No one ever knew when he might have to rely on the aid of his neighbor; therefore, a request for help was never refused. In any event, Amy was so worried about her father’s condition that she never gave her loud intrusion a thought.

  Amy stood in the doorway, looking wildly about the hut. No one seemed to be home. At dinner time, where could the people be? It was too late to be still working in the fields. The gorilla guards would certainly prevent anyone from strolling about after sunset. Becoming aware of strange sounds, Amy investigated, moving around the heavy wooden table in the center of the room.

  An elderly couple, their faces pallid and sweating, were lying helplessly on the ground. They murmured incoherently, and the sound was chilling. Amy stared in horror. Backing away, she reached behind her with one hand. She knocked over a chair, and the loud bang startled her. Still she backed away from the stricken couple. Amy ran out of the hut, then stopped uncertainly. After a moment’s hesitation, she ran back to her own hut.

  Her father was still in the same condition. Amy went to his side slowly. She knelt by him, cradling his feverish head in her arms. “Daddy,” she whispered. He did not respond. Amy began to sob uncontrollably. She looked up, pleading. “Oh, please,” she said, and her tears mingled with the rivulets of sweat that ran down her father’s wan face.

  2

  It was a warm day in the central city of the apes. It was not yet noon, but already the temperature was so high that the air seemed stifling. Chimpanzees and orangutans bustled about their private business, under the watchful, somewhat bored gaze of the gorilla police. Almost as numerous as the apes themselves were the human slaves, who worked without respite from the broiling sun.

  Inside one of the important buildings of the ape government, a meeting was in progress that would lead to serious consequences for many human beings, people who did not even know they were being discussed by their ape masters.

  A wooden gavel slammed loudly on a table. The sudden noise quieted the murmur of angry voices that had filled the council chamber. Zaius, an intelligent, mature orangutan, was the presiding officer of the Council of Elders, the wielder of the gavel. He pounded it again for order. The meeting was officially in session.

  “Please,” said Zaius, “please, let us keep order here. You’re babbling like a group of frightened humans.”

  One of the orangutan representatives on the council spoke up, greatly agitated. “There is much at stake here, Zaius,” he said. “We have reason to be concerned. Our historians have brought this to my attention. If I may be permitted to read—”

  “Go ahead,” said Zaius.

  The orangutan nodded and opened a large, crudely formed book. “‘In the early part of the Oman period’,” read the orangutan, “‘several hundred humans were found in a section of the outlying rural zone—all dead from a fever of this description. The entire sector became barren for years afterward’…”

  There was an immediate and violent response from the other members of the council. The chimpanzees, more curious than the other members, wanted to take the opportunity to experiment. The orangutans, the rulers, were concerned chiefly with the administrative problems the crisis presented. And the gorillas, led by General Urko, did not care at all about the more refined implications. The gorillas always met problems in the simplest way possible, generally the most violent as well.

  Zaius banged his gavel over and over until order was restored. When he could make himself heard, he spoke. “I am aware of the potential loss of goods and labor,” he said. “That is why I have ordered Trion quarantined. Pending investigation, that is.” There was no concern for the safety and welfare of the humans in the village, not beyond what the people might mean economically to the apes.

  General Urko leaped up angrily. “Quarantined?” he shouted. “Burn it!”

  “Before we consider such measures, Urko,” said Zaius, “our Chief Medical Officer, Zoran, has a few words.”

  Zaius indicated a large chimpanzee, an intelligent medical expert. Zoran had a very self-assured manner, even in the face of hostile reactions from the gorillas. With Zoran was his assistant, another chimpanzee, though one of a more retiring nature, named Inta. Zoran thanked Zaius for the opportunity to speak, rose from his seat, and paced back and forth before the assembly. “I have done considerable research with diseases of the lower species,” he said, “and I have developed certain… theories of treatment. Including such afflictions as this fever.”

  Once more General Urko jumped up, shouting and waving his great, brawny arms. He was the undisputed leader of all the gorilla forces, all the police and military might of the ape world. At times, this power and responsibility made him act in ways the other apes thought ruthless. It was not only the human slaves and workers who feared Urko. “Theories?” he screamed. “Theories, Dr. Zoran? Just an excuse for you to waste our time and resources on your intellectual games and guesses.”

  Zoran stared at Urko calmly. While the others in the council might react with fear to Urko’s fierce behavior, Zoran wanted to make it clear, particularly before Zaius, that he was not easily intimidated. He waited until Urko had calmed down and then continued. “I intend to test my theories in Trion,” he said simply. This announcement, seemingly admitting the truth of Urko’s accusation, set the whole council to murmuring again.

  Urko was greatly annoyed. He pounded on the desk in front of him with his great fists. “The entire labor force of a sector is threatened and he wants to test theories?” Zaius had a good deal more difficulty restoring the council to order. “Trion is quite isolated,” he said finally. “And with the quarantine, the risk is greatly reduced.”

  Zoran spoke quickly, unwilling to let Urko seize the initiative. “If I can save Trion.” he said, “we need never fear the fever again—ever! And that means zero loss of labor or goods in the future.”

  “All right, Zoran,” said Zaius quietly, trying to keep order by the calm tone of his voice and the hint of authority behind it. “I believe that we’ve heard enough to form our opinions on the matter. Let us vote. Those for allowing Chief Medical Officer Zoran to proceed to Trion—”

  The members of the council engaged in several debates among themselves. Finally, every member nodded yes in turn—every member except Urko.

  “So be it,” said Zaius.

  Urko would not let the matter conclude so reasonably. He rose slowly and ponderously to his feet. Everyone in the council chamber looked toward him, wondering what he could say or do, after the legal vote had been taken. Urko walked slowly toward Zoran, still silent. The other members of the council began to file out of the chamber. Zoran ignored Urko and followed his colleagues. Urko grabbed Zoran by one arm. “I’ll be there at Trion to enforce the qu
arantine, Zoran,” said the gorilla general. “And if you fail…” Urko, leaving the threat unspoken, turned abruptly and marched out of the room. Zoran stared after the gorilla, contemplating Urko’s words. The other chimpanzees and orangutans had stopped at the sound of Urko’s voice. Now Zoran addressed them.

  “You will not regret your faith in me,” he said. Then he, too, walked confidently from the council chamber. His assistant, Inta, followed him nervously.

  * * *

  At the forest clearing where Virdon, Burke, and Galen had spent the night, the three companions were finishing their morning chores. The few utensils that had been used for breakfast were washed in water from the stream. Burke used a knife to dig a wide hole; the ashes and embers from their cooking fire were scraped into the shallow pit and covered over. The area was carefully disguised with dead tree limbs and leaves. When they had finished, it was impossible to see that anyone had been there at all. Everything was repacked, and the backpacks were hoisted into place on the three well-muscled backs. Virdon and Burke were ready to take up the journey again; they waited for Galen, who was at the stream, taking a last mouthful of the fresh, sparkling water.

  The chimpanzee stared in surprise at the sound of a heavy cart coming through the trees into the clearing. Burke and Virdon slipped behind the boles of large trees, out of sight. They waited a moment, and at last saw a single itinerant human, wheeling a cart full of roughly made implements. He looked over his shoulder, and was not aware of the presence of Virdon and Burke, who stepped out from their concealed places. Galen remained motionless by the stream. The stranger was clearly afraid of something; he had been hurrying, fleeing something, and now he rested in the clearing, panting, his face and body sweating profusely. He walked by Virdon, still without saying a word, and went to the stream. He was about to dip his face in the water when he noticed Galen for the first time. In the silent forest his gasp of surprise seemed almost like a scream.

  “Your permission—?” he asked.