Planet of the Apes 01 - Man the Fugitive

by George Alec Effinger

  “Are you really sorry we came back?” asked Virdon quietly.

  Burke watched the gorillas, now so close that he could hear their strange battle cries. “No,” he said. “Why would you think that? Just because we’re about to be engulfed by a bunch of refugees from an old two-reel silent film? What ever gave you that idea?”

  Galen interrupted Burke’s sarcastic musings. “What do we do now, my friends?” he asked. “Do we take Amy and try to get away?”

  Virdon nodded in the direction of the gorillas. “I’m afraid it was too late for that quite a while ago,” he said reflectively.

  Galen looked around and saw that gorilla soldiers had completely surrounded the village. They had obviously been there for some time, preventing any escape, and only a small percentage of Urko’s forces were riding with him in the main attack. This explained why Burke and Virdon had so resignedly discussed the matter, without making an attempt to flee. Galen appreciated once again that the two astronauts were a good deal more aware of their surroundings than any ape ever was. Perhaps apes had grown too complacent in their world. These two men were always alert. If he were to contribute to their association, if he had any hopes of the fugitive life that had been forced upon him, Galen knew that their talent was well worth cultivating.

  Burke and Virdon watched the gorillas on horseback, and stared at the soldiers that ringed the town. There was no weakness in the apes’ formation; there was no place to break through. The only thing to do was wait.

  Virdon spoke quietly. “It seems our future is in the hands of the Chief Medical Officer,” he said.

  Burke said cynically, “Watch closely,” he said. “You may see the future come to a very quick end.”

  “We’re helpless,” said Galen, wondering why the humans did nothing but watch. “We can’t run and . . . and we have no weapons.”

  Virdon shook his head. “We have one,” he said.

  Virdon turned and walked into the hospital hut. Galen and Burke exchanged puzzled glances; neither knew what Virdon’t last words meant, but they knew that he was planning something. Both knew that at times like this it did no good to question the blond man. Virdon hated to talk about his plans prematurely.

  Galen and Burke shrugged and returned their attention to Urko and his soldiers, who had ridden down to the bottom of the hill and had reached the road. The mounted warriors turned onto the road; they would make good speed, now. For good or ill, things would soon be over. The two friends watched, both feeling a little helpless, a little afraid.

  “You know what this feels like?” asked Burke.

  “Yes,” said Galen. “But if I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”

  “This feels like the last quarter of the Michigan—Michigan State game, my senior year. The score was fourteen to fourteen. I can remember it like it only happened yesterday.”

  “What?” asked Galen.

  Burke paid no attention. “The State punter kicked this real cloud-hanger, man, I thought it would take forever to come down. I just stood there watching the ball sailing toward me, end over end, and listening to those gigantic linemen coming after my neck.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Galen.

  “It felt just like this,” said Burke. “Well, maybe not as bad as this. But, come to think of it, there was a time in the Ohio State game, my junior year.”

  “Burke,” said Galen, exasperated, “I don’t understand. I purposely didn’t tell you my experience, because I knew that you wouldn’t understand me.”

  “Huh?” said Burke, suddenly recalled to the present. He realized what he had been doing. “Oh, I’m sorry, Galen.”

  “That’s all right, my friend,” said Galen. “I am beginning to realize how much you human beings have to live in the past.”

  Burke stared out along the road. “I’ll tell you, my boy, I sure do wish we could.”

  Kava still lay where he fell, in the grass on the hill. The torch that had lighted the area around him had burned out. The sentry had left, gone with Urko to attack the village. Kava was the only one of the gorilla forces who hadn’t accompanied the general. Kava was all alone.

  He was calmer, but he was still feverish and weak. He rolled over and raised himself up on his arms. From that position he could look down and see the village of Trion, and the marauding gorillas led by General Urko, who had almost reached the town. Confusion overwhelmed Kava; he was filled with regret, an emotion he had consciously subdued during the last few years. He tried to get up, not precisely sure what he could do. He failed to stand. He rolled back in the grass and stared into the sky.

  Zoran pulled his horse to a halt squarely in front of the onrushing Urko. Urko had to pull up, also, or risk a collision that might seriously injure both apes. The other gorillas with Urko halted when the general did.

  “You have great courage, doctor,” said Urko. “Move your horse aside.” His tone was one of intense scorn.

  “It is several hours yet until noon, Urko,” said Zoran.

  “Stand aside or you will die with those in the village.”

  Zoran could hardly control his anger. The only thing that kept him in check was the knowledge that his behavior here would affect the remainder of his life. “The council voted,” he said simply.

  Urko stood in his stirrups, as if to swat the chimpanzee aside like some troublesome gnat. “The council be damned!” he said.

  A third voice answered Urko. “That is treason, General,” said the new party.

  Both Zoran and Urko turned to see Zaius, who had ridden up while the two apes argued. Behind Zaius was the remainder of the council, prodding their horses forward uncertainly.

  Urko would not be stopped this close to his goal. He defied even the council. “Better treason than madness!” he shouted.

  Zaius would not be moved by Urko’s display of might. “I command you to withdraw, Urko,” he said. His voice was level and completely without fear.

  Urko laughed harshly. He turned to see what effect Zaius’ words had on his subordinates. The gorillas all sat expressionless, just as Urko had trained them. The general turned back to Zaius, confident that his men would follow him anywhere, even against the dictates of the Supreme Council. “You command?” asked Urko. “You have words. I have weapons.”

  One member of the council, an orangutan, spoke up wearily. “Perhaps another vote,” he suggested.

  Other voices were raised, agreeing. “Yes! Another vote!”

  Zaius gave only the slightest shake of his head. “The vote was taken,” he said. “We shall stand by the decision!”

  Urko lifted his rifle. “Remove yourself, old man!” he said, grunting.

  “Would you kill me, Urko?” asked Zaius quietly.

  “Before you allow him,” he indicated Zoran, “to kill my men. Yes!”

  There was a loud mutter of approval from the gorillas, who heard in Urko’s words a loyalty and feeling of brotherhood that they never received from the chimpanzees and the orangutans. None of the other apes had such a clannish attitude, and now it looked to the gorillas as if Zaius and the council were attacking them all, through Urko. The soldiers leveled their weapons at Zaius and the other members of the council.

  Zoran turned to the gorillas. “Listen to me!” he pleaded. “Urko doesn’t care for you! He thinks only of his own position. He wouldn’t let me help Kava. He would let Kava die, just to discredit me and strengthen himself.”

  Urko was shaken by just how close to the truth Zoran had come. “No,” said the general, “Zoran is the one who thinks only of himself! He could not help Kava. He could not help anyone!”

  Zaius laughed softly. He saw something that Urko could not. “It would appear that you are misinformed, Urko,” he said.

  The eyes of the soldiers, of Urko and Zoran, and of the remaining members of the council turned to where Zaius was looking.

  The sick human beings of Trion, who a couple of days before had been wracked with fever and virtually given up for dead, were walking
out of the hospital hut. They were obviously still weak, but even more obviously they were greatly improved, a visual tribute to Zoran’s success. Zoran, Urko, and the council watched silently. There was some murmuring among the gorilla soldiers.

  Along the narrow road walked the sick of the village. The old men and women, so close to complete collapse the day before, were now well enough to take part in this demonstration. Each formerly dying person was supported by one of the healthy villagers, and they all moved in a slow line toward the position of the shocked gorillas. Behind them came the rest of the villagers, those who had worked such long hours to make this recovery possible.

  Leading the weak, walking in the very front of the bold exodus of human beings, was Amy Talbert. Behind her was a line of stumbling, but definitely improved men, women, and children. It was obvious even to the gorillas, even to Urko, that the fever had been beaten down. It was more obvious to Zaius and the council members. Alongside Amy walked Inta, Zoran’s assistant, who smiled, evidently relieved.

  Virdon and Burke stood by a window and watched the march. Despite all they had done for the people of Trion, this was not their show. This was a blow against the tyranny that Urko and his kind were trying to establish; men, throughout their relatively brief ascendency in the world, had made this fight time after time. It seemed that the two astronauts had taught a valuable lesson, one from which other apes could benefit just as much.

  There was also no good reason to be recognized by either Urko or Zaius.

  “This rather changes the picture, then, does it not, Zaius?” asked Zoran, a note of gloating in his voice.

  “Yes,” said Zaius, “it is certainly a quite different situation than that which we expected to witness this morning. Nevertheless, we still cannot be completely certain of its significance. We must still wait.”

  “But the people—” said Zoran.

  “I will admit that it seems to be a victory for your new theories,” said Zaius. “But it only seems to be. We must be certain.”

  Urko and his gorillas were still trying to understand what was happening, why they were being prevented from carrying out the actions they had worked so hard to prepare. The general himself, who understood what those cursed people of Trion were trying to do, was caught offguard. He turned in his saddle to speak, but he had nothing very remarkable to say. He had lost a lot of his usual fire and swagger. “It’s a trick!” he shouted. “A lie!”

  “No!”

  All eyes shifted to see who had spoken. Kava, still weak, fevered, but very much improved, stumbled forward to address himself to Zaius.

  “Last night,” said Kava, glancing at his general nervously, but determined to do what he felt to be his duty, despite the consequences, “last night, someone from the village . . . came to me . . . I was dying.”

  Urko was enraged at this act of insubordination from one of his trusted soldiers. Besides the simple act of betrayal, as Urko saw it, Kava’s actions might entirely undermine the authority of the gorillas. Urko glared at Kava, then rose one arm as if to strike him. “Silence!” he shouted. “That is an order.”

  For a moment, Kava was confused. His general, whom he had followed without question since Kava had been a young gorilla, represented the only way of life that Kava had known or desired. He had been given a direct order by his supreme commander. Nevertheless, there was a person to whom Kava owed even greater allegiance, and that was Zaius, in the latter’s function as presiding officer of the council. Kava wavered in his mind. After all, it was as Urko had said: Zaius had the words, but Urko had the weapons. If the circumstances were not settled quickly, Zaius and the council would be dead, and Urko would assume all the powers and privileges of dictator. The gorillas would receive the special status they had sought for hundreds of years. All of the gorillas, except Kava. Kava would be dead.

  “They gave me something to drink,” said Kava anxiously. “Bitter medicine. Urko, you are wrong. The medicine made me better. It saved my life.”

  The gorillas studied Kava. They had all seen him as he lay on the grass of the hill, helplessly convulsed by the fever, suffering indescribable pain, delirious with the sickness. Now the gorilla was coherent again, although weak. He stood before them and spoke sanely and calmly. Beside him, Urko seemed like a rash and thoughtless child. The soldiers turned wondering looks on their general.

  Although more intelligent than his men, Urko could feel his grip on them loosening. His mind raced to find an answer. His power was being taken away. The more he thought, the more he realized he was helpless.

  Zaius considered the situation. It was much more difficult than any he had had to face in his long tenure as presiding officer of the council. A wrong word here, a misinterpreted gesture, and the whole thing might yet blow up into tragic bloodshed. Zaius did not have any personal attachment to the people of Trion, nor did he overly worry about his own death at the hands of Urko’s enraged followers. Even the murder of the council was not so disastrous: each of the members could simply be replaced by apes equally as competent. The real horror lurking behind the scenes here was the potential of Urko wresting all power and all control of the lives of apes and human beings everywhere. And that was an event that Zaius had sworn to guard against.

  “I tell you again, Urko,” said Zaius. “Take your troops and withdraw, while you still have them to command.”

  Urko stared at Zaius with impotent fury. Then he turned to face his soldiers. The gorillas, who were all stupid enough to be easily swayed by the arguments of anyone with a scrap of authority, were all watching their general with growing insolence. It was apparent that it would be quite a while before rigid military discipline could be imposed again upon this company. Urko sneered at them, but said nothing. He wheeled his horse and rode away. For a moment the gorilla soldiers hesitated, but they all realized that they had no other life than with Urko. They too shouldered their weapons and followed him.

  The thunder of the hoofbeats filled the air and shook the ground. Zaius and the council sat impassively while the gorilla horde charged away. Once again Kava had been left behind; now it seemed that Urko considered him a traitor. Kava was not worried about that as yet. Like the humans of a few days before, he had more immediate concerns. “Would you treat me,” he asked Zoran, “in the village . . . with the others . . . until I am better?”

  Zoran smiled. He had bluffed Urko. The arrival of Zaius, and the remarkable showing of the humans had rescued him from the gravest situation of his career. He could afford to be generous. He helped Kava up on his horse; the gorilla sat unsteadily behind Zoran. Together they rode slowly along the dusty street toward Trion.

  Zaius turned his horse and studied the members of the council. They all looked subdued and embarrassed, recalling the less than honorable way they had behaved during the showdown between Urko and Zaius. The presiding officer spoke with unconcealed disgust. “How quickly compromise becomes attractive,” he said. “You, who are charged with fashioning the edicts by which our entire culture must survive, would gladly have granted Urko anything if he had spared your worthless lives.” Then he, too, prodded his horse and rode off. Entirely ashamed, the council members followed at a distance.

  In the village, things were getting back to normal for the first time since the disease first came to the town. Men who had been preparing medicine and tending to the sick were now able to return to their fields. Women and children were in the street, visiting with neighbors and helping each other restore their huts to normal.

  A little while later, in the hospital hut, Zoran moved down the narrow aisle that separated the rows of mattresses. He checked the patients, all of whom were greatly improved, thanks to the quinine that Virdon had taught them to make. The men and women were eating again, smiling, talking among themselves, relaxing after the long ordeal. Inta was tending a human child’s needs. Zoran was intrigued by the situation, and by the change in attitude his assistant had made. The Chief Medical Officer was obviously very pleased at the progress.
He stopped by one end of the hut and looked back.

  Burke, Virdon, and Galen were talking and laughing with Amy at the other end of the room. The young girl seemed to be almost entirely recovered, her young, strong body reacting quickly with the medicine to throw off the last ravages of the fever. The scene gladdened Zoran’s heart; it was unusual for him, too. Before this situation had occurred, he always felt uneasy even being in the same room with a human being.

  Zoran walked to the small group. Amy, Burke. Virdon, and Galen were laughing when he approached, and they did not hear him until he spoke up. Zoran’s voice was uneasy and disturbed. “I would like to speak to you two a moment,” he said, indicating the two human astronauts. The laughter died around Amy’s cot. There was a moment of awkward silence.

  Zoran turned and left the hospital hut. Puzzled by Zoran’s sober tones, Virdon, Burke, and Galen looked at each other worriedly. Then Galen shrugged and turned back to Amy. He was learning a great deal about the daily life in the village. Virdon and Burke stood up and followed Zoran outside.

  Amy looked at Galen, not suspecting anything out of the ordinary. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” answered the chimpanzee. He stood up and followed his friends, more out of curiosity than concern.

  Zoran, Virdon, and Burke walked slowly along the street, away from the hospital and the hearing of the others. “I suppose you’ll want to be leaving soon,” said Zoran, his voice shaking just a little.

  Virdon nodded. “Yes,” he said. “We thought we’d be going later today.”

  Zoran looked as uneasy as he felt. His voice was developing a nervous quality that neither of the astronauts liked. “I’m afraid . . . that won’t be possible.”

  Burke was puzzled by the chimpanzee’s words. “Why not?” he asked.

  Zoran took a deep breath. He had had to do a number of difficult things in the last few days, but this was the worst of them. “Well,” he said, “I just can’t let you go.”