“Who are you?” asked Zoran irritably. “Why are you here in this village?”
Galen sighed. He was safe. “I was taking these two humans to another farm. Listen to them. They are more intelligent than most.”
Zoran stared at Galen thoughtfully, weighing the chimpanzee’s words. The doctor looked around him at the dying wrecks that once was the labor force of the village of Trion. The problem of the disease was certainly bad enough; but Zoran had staked a lot of his personal ambitions on his being able to come up with a solution. He had risked his own future, in front of the Supreme Council, in front of Zaius, in front of General Urko. When Zoran thought of the gorilla chieftain, his lip curled angrily. It was all because of that monstrous Urko that Zoran was here at all. He certainly didn’t especially want to be—of what remarkable value were these dismal looking human beings? There were always plenty more, breeding away in some other village. And the sun was hot—
Zoran realized that his attention was wandering. He looked at Burke. “So you, too, are familiar with this disease.”
Burke did not hesitate in his reply. “It’s malaria,” he said.
Zoran laughed out loud. He turned to Inta, his assistant. “How clever,” said Zoran. “He’s even given it a name. Oh, call the guards, Inta. I haven’t time for this fool.”
Inta nodded, mounted his horse, and rode off toward the barracks of the gorillas.
Galen was alarmed. “Sir,” he said quickly, “the guards won’t be necessary.”
Virdon had stopped worrying about his own safety. He knew that he had to convince this Zoran of the truth of his knowledge, or the people of Trion were as good as sentenced to death. Virdon would not have much time, or much chance of success, but he knew that he had to try. “Listen to me, sir,” he said, hating the term of respect even as he uttered it, “malaria means ‘foul air’. Like the kind you find around stagnant pools, like the kind we saw on our way into this village, not far away. You see, sir, the mosquitoes around this stagnant water carry the disease, and it’s communicated by their sting.”
Zoran had just about all he could stand. He was not used to talking with human beings—whenever that became necessary in his job, it was usually taken care of by Inta—and he definitely did not find it pleasant to be contradicted by one. Zoran was glad that Inta had gone, so that the assistant could not see what, to Zoran, was a horrible embarrassment. The Chief Medical Officer exploded. “That is enough!” he screamed. “I don’t know whether to have you shot for plain stupidity, or hanged for insolence. Plagues flying through the air on the backs of insects! Diseases of the lower species are communicated by bodily contact.”
Burke ignored Zoran’s words “the lower species”. He spoke as calmly as he could. “This one isn’t,” he said.
Zoran was even more furious. “You are challenging my word!”
Galen grew even more agitated. It seemed that Virdon and Burke were deliberately trying to get themselves further and further into trouble! Didn’t these humans realize that they couldn’t risk antagonizing someone as powerful as Zoran? It made no difference who was right in this matter; all that was important was that Zoran had the authority, and that Virdon and Burke were, after all, only humans.
“Believe me, sir,” said Galen in a conciliatory tone, “he does not mean to be insolent. As with all humans, fear has put foolish words in his mouth.”
The sound of returning hoofbeats caused Galen to look around nervously. Virdon and Burke watched the road carefully; they realized that, perhaps, they had gotten themselves into a situation that no amount of talking could get them out of. It might be, as much as they didn’t like the idea, that they might have to fight their way out of Trion.
Zoran noticed their discomfort. “Fear, eh?” he said. “Is that what causes their foolish words? I have a certain cure for that disease.”
Galen tried one last time to convince Zoran. “These men do know something of medicine.”
Zoran waved the suggestion away. “Impossible,” he said.
Meanwhile Neesa rode into the village, roughly knocking several humans aside with his horse. With him rode Inta and another gorilla guard. Virdon noticed that Neesa was sweating profusely—the gorilla was on the very edge of exhaustion. It seemed that only the blond astronaut saw Neesa’s condition. Zoran pointed at the two humans. “Arrest those two!” he cried.
At first, it looked as if Zoran’s angry demand would go ignored by Neesa, who was having difficulty controlling his horse. Neesa rubbed his heavy brow with a gloved hand. The horse feeling the gorilla’s unsteadiness, began to prance around. Neesa shook his head to clear his dizziness, then reined in tightly. The horse quieted down; after a moment Neesa spoke as though nothing were bothering him. He glared at Virdon, Burke, and Galen. “Arrest them?” he said angrily. “I’ll shoot them. They’ve crossed the quarantine line against my orders.”
Zoran looked thoughtfully at the gorilla guard. Such bloodthirstiness still did not sit well with the more intellectually inclined chimpanzee. Nevertheless, Nessa represented the gorilla guards, who were the apes’ only protection against whatever dangers might develop in these outlying areas. They probably knew what was best in these matters; it was not Zoran’s position to countermand the gorillas’ orders. After all, Zoran had a difficult enough time as it was. He shrugged. “Do as you please,” he said, turning away.
Virdon and Burke started to protest. Galen held them back, knowing that their interference would only make things worse, and hasten theur execution at the hands of Neesa and the second gorilla guard. The two astronauts exchanged helpless glances. Galen stepped in front of them and spoke to Zoran, who had turned his back and was walking away “Sir,” said Galen, “I must protest your actions here—”
Galen’s argument went unnoticed by Zoran, who continued across the road. Neesa however was happy to have the situation in his control, he raised his rifle and tried to aim it at Virdon. At the same time, the second gorilla raised his own rifle and pointed it at Burke. Before either could fire, though, Neesa’s strength finally failed him. He dropped his rifle and fell from his horse. “Kava,” called Neesa hoarsely. Kava, the other gorilla, was too startled to answer. He grabbed the reins of Neesa’s horse to prevent the animal from trampling its master. While Neesa rolled in the dust of the road, Kava struggled to control the riderless horse.
The commotion behind him caused Zoran to turn and watch the scene for a moment: he saw Neesa convulsing on the ground. Virdon and Burke knelt, examining the gorilla. After a moment of silence, Burke stood and addressed Zoran. “Shove this up your theory,” said Burke “Has he had ‘bodily contact’ with any of the lower species? He has malaria!”
Kava, Neesa’s companion, was frightened. Even with the gorilla’s rigid military training with its Spartan emphasis on discipline and restraint, fear showed on his face. Rising in his saddle, he urged his horse closer to Zoran. Burke’s words had gone straight to Kava’s heart. Now Kava exploded with indignant rage. “What is he saying?” he demanded, “How could this be? Explain!”
Zoran stared at the writhing Neesa. He did not seem to hear Kava’s desperate questions, or his peremptory command for an explanation. Zoran was as frightened as Kava, but on top of it was the sudden insight that there was a good deal more to the situation than anyone yet suspected. Perhaps these puny humans were correct, after a fashion. Perhaps the apes did not have such a complete grasp of medical science, after all. In a way, that idea was more disturbing to Zoran. He studied the dying Neesa and shook his head in disbelief. All logic seemed to desert him. “I . . . I can’t explain . . .” he said.
Kava glared at Zoran with contempt. “You fool,” said Kava. “Will you dare tell that to Urko?”
Zoran had no answer.
THREE
The next day was as hot and clear as the previous one. In the village of Trion, more humans died. Outside the village, in Urko’s command tent, a hastily assembled meeting of the Supreme Council was trying to reach a decision.
The meeting was going much less smoothly than the one before. Now the emotions of all the members seemed to interfere with the coldly logical reasoning on which they prided themselves. Outside the tent, two gorillas stood guard. Watching the horses of the council members, they tried in vain to hear some of the progress of the meeting. All that they heard were the sounds of angry voices, and an occasional word that was shouted above the raucous clamor.
“Fire!” cried Urko. “Purification by fire! It is the only course left to pursue.”
One orangutan tried to speak. He started several times, each time drowned out by the excited arguing of the others. At last Zaius came to the orangutan’s aid, banging his gavel over and over until everyone settled down. Then the orangutan proceeded. “The situation is different now, Zaius,” he said. “Apes are being threatened.”
Zaius did not appear to be moved. “Please,” he said calmly, “we must quiet ourselves and think rationally.”
The orangutan pounded his fist on a table. “But an ape is dead, Zaius. An ape! It’s no longer a minor problem.”
Almost every member of the council took the opportunity to demonstrate the intensity of his feelings. Unfortunately, the cumulative effect of so many simultaneous demonstrations was complete and uncontrollable chaos. Zaius banged his gavel, but this time there was no quieting the apes. At last Zaius gave a sigh and stopped, his gavel-banging was only adding to the noise and confusion. After a few moments, realizing that they were making no progress at all, the council members returned to their seats.
Zoran conspicuously took no part in the loud display and sat silently in his seat, a shaken and doubtful chimpanzee. Urko noticed Zoran’s frightened manner and took advantage of it. “You,” he cried, pointing his hugely muscled arm at Zoran, closing his fingers into a threatening fist, “you and your ‘theories’ ” Urko turned from the Medical Officer and addressed the rest of the council. “He should be burned with the others.”
Zaius pounded his gavel to stop the uproar that greeted Urko’s words. “I do believe that suggestion is a little extreme, even for this situation,” said Zaius. “In any event, you are out of order, Urko. I suggest that we hear Zoran’s appraisal of the circumstances.”
A member of the council, an orangutan, shouted out his approval “I agree,” he said. “He promises us success.” It was a challenge to Zoran’s professional abilities.
Everyone in the command tent looked at Zoran. There was a sudden, deep, and unnerving quiet. Zoran took a breath. He understood the importance of what he would have to do in the next few days. It was possible that he might emerge from this dilemma a discredited and broken ape. It had all begun so simply! He almost wished that he had let Urko have his way at the previous council meeting. Still, the possibility remained that Zoran might yet wrest a victory from these unpromising events. Zoran rose from his seat, his thoughts racing. Everyone waited for him to speak. “Upon . . . my arrival in Trion,” he said, considering each word carefully, “I discovered that the fever . . . was of a different type than I had assumed. It is of a . . . rare variety . . . called . . . Malaria . . . and it is obviously fatal to apes as well as humans. This leads me to conclude . . . that it is . . . obviously . . . not transmitted by bodily contact . . .”
“Then in what other way could it be communicated?” asked Zaius.
Zoran wondered if he believed what he was going to say, himself. “I have reason to suspect . . . the disease grows in . . . stagnant pools of water . . . and is carried into the bloodstream by the sting . . . of . . . mosquitoes.”
The council members stared at Zoran in amazement. They had never before heard such a preposterous statement, and they surely didn’t expect such a thing from so noted an authority as Zoran.
“You can’t be serious,” said one of the orangutans.
Urko laughed harshly. “He’s got the fever himself.”
There was a great deal of unpleasant muttering from the council members. Zaius rapped his gavel for order. “Zoran,” he said, “are you aware of what you are asking us to believe?”
“There are such stagnant pools in Trion,” said Zoran. “Both the humans and,” he addressed Urko, “your soldiers have been exposed to these areas.”
“And what action do you propose we take now?” asked Zaius.
That was the question that Zoran dreaded. He had thought about the matter until his mind refused to consider it any more; he had gone over everything the two humans had told him, and it still made no sense. He had to stall. Perhaps something would happen, or some idea would occur to him in the meantime. “I will need a few hours to . . . further appraise the situation,” said Zoran, in his best bureaucratic manner.
General Urko took the opportunity to take another swipe at Zoran; the difference was that this time he voiced sentiments that were shared by almost all the other members of the council. “I’ll be damned if I’ll back down to a mosquito!” he roared.
Zoran knew that he had to defend his shaky position. The problem was in finding a way to do it. He had little sympathy left among his colleagues; Urko was gaining more and more influence. Zoran’s reasonable talk was sounding increasingly like vague and unfulfillable promises. “Urko,” said the Medical Officer, “since this disease is fatal to our people, too we should use this . . . this situation to develop a cure. Can’t you understand that?”
“Yes,” said Zaius, to Zoran’s great relief, “perhaps there’s a positive side to this. We can experiment with the humans. Even if we lost the entire village—as long as an ape cure were developed—it would be worth it. Historically, medicine has progressed because of such experimentation. Yes. I believe we should seize this opportunity.”
One by one, thanks to the backing of Zaius, the other members of the council nodded agreement.
“So be it,” said Zaius. He turned directly to Zoran. “You’ll report to us.”
“Yes, sir,” said Zoran.
Urko did not voice his disapproval. He merely rose ponderously to his feet and pushed through the others. He left the command tent unaware of the nervous looks the members of the council gave him as he passed.
The day was getting hotter. Urko shielded his eyes when he emerged into the bright sunlight. He stood motionless for a moment, then signalled to one of his guards to prepare a horse for him. The young gorilla brought Urko’s mount, and the general still fuming at the council’s foolish delays swung up into the saddle and rode away. A few moments later Zoran came out of the tent. Now more shaken than before the meeting, he felt trapped.
In the village of Trion work groups had been organized. Parties of men still strong enough buried the dead. Those who had been weakened by the disease were carried into one of the largest huts. More people carried water from the village well into the hospital hut.
In other parts of the village, women and children were fashioning crude gloves and cloth headpieces with narrow eyeslits. Virdon went from group to group, inspecting their work. He gave them all encouragement; he knew that, even if this labor didn’t actually stave off the attacks of the fever, it at least absorbed the attention of the survivors. It substituted a positive plan for panic and hysteria.
Burke felt differently; he thought that the very fact that they knew what was striking down the people of Trion was a tremendous advantage in fighting it. At least, they weren’t digging pits and filling them with water. At least, they weren’t bleeding the people. What simple things they could do were along the right lines. He thought for a moment about how the scientists of his own time had fought malaria and yellow fever. A bacteria had been developed that attacked the particular mosquito that spread these diseases. When the bacteria was introduced into the pools where the mosquito bred, the mosquito larvae died in a few days. The method, harmless to man, was much safer to the ecology of the area than spraying with insecticides. But Burke, wiping the sweat from his brow, would more happily settle now for an elementary medical textbook of his own era, one that would direct him and Virdon with more authority.
Virdon heard the sound, too, and looked up, shielding his eyes with one hand. He waited for Burke to join him from the hut. Zoran rode into the village and dismounted. The Medical Officer walked about the village, examining the activities that the astronauts had organized. They picked up a pair of gloves and a mask that the women were making. “What are they doing?” he asked.
“Protective masks and gloves,” said Burke. “We’ve got to send a work crew to drain off the stagnant water.”
Zoran considered Burke’s words. Now he did not attack their suggestions: his personal situation was so desperate that he had to accept whatever help was available, no matter how unorthodox it seemed. He had committed himself this far; the only reasonable thing was to see the thing through to the end, whatever that might prove to be. “I am in a most difficult position with the council,” he said. “I have related your . . . mosquito theory.” Zoran paused, studying the faces of the men. He took a deep breath. “Of course, in order to save you from punishment—should we fail—I told them it was my own . . .”
Virdon and Burke exchanged wondering looks. This benevolent attitude they rarely encountered among the apes. Usually, the masters were all too willing to let the blame for failures fall upon the “inferior” human beings. “You’re very generous,” said Virdon.
Planet of the Apes 01 - Man the Fugitive Page 4