They emerged, panting and bruised. “Virdon,” said Burke.
“No time!” said Galen, wheezing slightly. “Later!”
Inside the arena, Irnar and Jason were trying to shove their way through the crowd toward the entrance. Jason walked ahead of the prefect, roughly hitting the humans, clearing a path. As the two apes came out of the amphitheater, they looked around in frustration. Burke and Galen had escaped.
SEVEN
Jason stood at the window of Irnar’s office, staring out at the street with great annoyance. Behind him, Irnar paced nervously. In all of the twenty-five years he had been prefect of Kaymak, no one of Jason’s importance had ever visited him. And now, the official visit had to happen on the worst day of his entire career. From the window came indistinct crowd noises; they faded slowly. After a moment, the door opened and a gorilla entered. Irnar looked up at the ape. “Well, Morko?” asked the prefect.
“We’ve finally managed to clear all the humans off the street,” said the gorilla, panting a little, obviously exhausted.
“Any damage?” asked Irnar. “Any injuries?”
“Nothing serious,” said Morko. “One of my troopers was slightly hurt. I’ve never seen the humans so—”
Jason interrupted the report of the rural officer. “What did you say?” he cried, as though he couldn’t believe what he had heard. “A trooper hurt? By a human! Don’t you have rifles?”
Irnar tried to soothe Jason’s outrage. “My orders are that weapons are used only as a last resort. You may go, Morko.”
“I don’t like this,” said Jason in a dangerously quiet voice. The gorilla trooper gave him an anxious look, then left Irnar’s office. Jason turned on Irnar in angry incredulity. “Your reports always described this as a peaceful village!” he said.
“It was!” said Irnar, protesting. “I mean, it is! The game wasn’t brought to its proper conclusion, that’s why they—”
Jason had heard enough. Everything about this rural village and its prefect sounded to him like sheer lunacy. “Games!” he shouted, slamming his fist on Irnar’s desk. “You don’t govern with games! You govern with this!” He raised his gauntleted hand, fingers open, and slowly closed it again into a rock-hard fist. “And you don’t allow two important prisoners to escape! I’ve never seen such incompetence!”
“I don’t believe that I can be held responsible for their escape,” said Irnar coolly. He had had enough of Jason’s attitude; he was angry enough to forget just how powerful Urko’s aide was.
“Well, then,” said Jason acidly, “who can I hold responsible? You bring him in here, because I have some plans for him.”
Irnar ignored that. “I had no way of knowing that chimpanzee and the horse-thief were important prisoners, not until you came.” Irnar was showing signs of irritation and anxiety. He was swinging Virdon’s metallic disk on its thong as he spoke. The habit annoyed Jason.
“Must you play with that thing?” growled the gorilla. Irnar caught the disk and stared back angrily at Jason. The silence grew very tense. Irnar’s resolution failed him first and he looked away from Jason’s angry eyes. He opened his desk drawer and dropped the disk into it. Then he closed and locked the drawer.
“Is that all right?” asked Irnar in a dull voice.
“Thank you,” said Jason dryly. “Now let’s see the one prisoner you haven’t lost. Not yet, anyway.” He turned and started for the door. Irnar looked at Jason’s back, his thoughts filled with disdain for the gorilla’s crude manner and self-pity for having gotten involved in the entire sorry situation.
On the opposite edge of town from the amphitheater was a thick stand of trees that began only a few yards from the last hut in the village. The small forest ran on a couple of hundred yards, with only a narrow, grass-covered trail through it. In a clearing at the farther edge of this woodland stood Tolar’s house. The structure was a rather primitive wooden shack, crude even by the standards of the rural humans. Not far from the house, about halfway between the building and edge of the woods, stood a well. Dalton was at the well, drawing up a bucket of water, which he transferred into another bucket. He turned and carried the water toward the house. He did not realize that, as he labored, he was watched by two pair of eyes, one pair human, the other chimpanzee, staring out from the shelter of the woods.
Hidden by the underbrush, Galen and Burke watched Dalton enter his house. For a moment longer the two held still. Then they crawled back a short distance and crouched among the trees.
“I don’t understand your thinking, Pete,” said Galen.
“Trust me,” said Burke.
“But what makes you think they’ll help us? Until now, we’ve been nothing but enemies to them, particularly you. You attacked them in the clearing, you were held as a criminal in the cage, and you fought Tolar in the arena.”
“I could have killed that man,” said Burke, peeling the bark from a twig and staring into the distance. For a few seconds he did not speak. The events of the day had been a heavy emotional drain on him. “The crowd wanted me to,” he said finally, a trace of sadness in his voice. “He owes me something, don’t you think?”
Tolar had made a separate sleeping area for himself by putting up poles and draping heavy, dark material over them. Now his quarters were even darker, for he had covered the window with the same thick fabric and closed the crude shutters over the outside. Tolar lay on his rough bed, his eyes wide open in the gloom, staring into the darkness that covered him. He heard the door open and Dalton enter, but he did not move. Dalton pulled back the hanging material that separated Tolar from the rest of the living room, and light flooded across Tolar’s body. Still, Tolar didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge in any way his son’s presence.
“Father?” said Dalton. “Fresh water from the well?”
There was no response from Tolar. There was not even a flicker in the man’s eyes to indicate that Tolar had heard his son speak. Dalton looked at his father for a moment, troubled. Then he made a decision and crossed to Tolar’s window.
“You should have some light in here,” said Dalton.
“Leave it closed.”
“But, Father,” said the youth, pulling back the dark fabric.
“Do as I say.”
“This darkness is unhealthy.”
Tolar’s breath was exhaled in a sudden burst. “The dead have no need of light,” he said bitterly.
“And the living?” asked Dalton, pushing open the shutters.
“He disgraced me, Dalton,” said Tolar, his voice filled with recrimination. “Why didn’t he use the sword? Why? It is something I cannot understand. The man was no coward.”
Dalton couldn’t answer immediately. He, too, wondered the same thing. When he did reply, his words were hesitant. He was trying to express ideas he had not thought out fully. “I’m . . . not sure, Father,” he said. “I think . . .” He broke off, grappling with concepts entirely foreign to what he had always been taught. “I keep remembering things Mother said. Secret things she’d tell a small boy because she couldn’t tell you. About violence and killing and what is right and wrong. She tried to make me understand that there are other ways to prove one’s manhood.”
“Your mother could know little of that,” said Tolar.
“Perhaps more than either you or I,” said Dalton.
Tolar dismissed the idea. “I’m a dead man who breathes,” he said, “and he did this to me.”
“He spared your life, Father,” said Dalton. “Can that really be bad?”
“Without honor, a man should not live. He took my honor and left me my life. You think that could be good, Dalton? Did you hear the people of our village, our neighbors, yelling for my blood? Do you think I can walk among them now?”
Dalton, more confused than ever, didn’t know how to answer that. His father was indeed humiliated in the eyes of the people of Kaymak. More importantly, Tolar was humiliated in his own eyes. Dalton’s arguments meant nothing to his father. Instead, Dalton turned an
d silently left the sleeping area, letting the drapery fall closed again. Tolar continued to stare silently up at the ceiling. Dalton went into the main room. He stood there, alone, by the window; he stared out, confused . . .
Virdon, his back to the street, was leaning against the bars and thinking. He had grown tired of pacing the small cage like a wild animal. Suddenly, he was hit with a staggering blow to the back of his head. He cried out and tumbled forward as someone prodded him in the back. He rolled across the cage and came to a stop against the solid wall, rubbing his head. He got to his feet, facing his attacker, breathing heavily.
Jason and Irnar were opening the door to the cage. The door swung open and the two apes entered, under the watchful gaze of four armed gorilla guards. Jason held a rifle, with which he had just hit Virdon; now he walked menacingly toward him while Irnar looked on, somewhat dismayed at the gorilla’s unnecessary viciousness. “Where did your friends go?” said Jason in a surly voice. “Where is your meeting place?”
Virdon held himself upright, although the pain in his head made him dizzy and sick. He glared up at Jason. “When you questioned me before, I told you that there wasn’t any meeting place,” he said. “If you didn’t believe me then, you won’t believe me now.”
“I don’t believe you now,” said Jason.
“And there’s no way I can possibly persuade you that I’m telling the truth, so I won’t even try.”
“I might be persuaded,” said Jason roughly, “if you told the truth.”
“There isn’t any meeting place,” said Virdon.
“You’ll tell me where it is, or I’ll—” Jason raised his rifle and turned it, preparatory to giving Virdon another clout with the butt end.
Irnar raised a hand. “Jason,” he said, “I don’t approve of this method of interrogating the prisoner.”
Jason ignored Irnar’s objection. “I’m not very much interested in your approval,” he said to the prefect. Then he turned back to Virdon. “I’m giving you good warning. I have had a good deal of training, and I can promise you that you’ll talk before much longer. The condition you’ll be in at that time is entirely up to you.”
“I forbid this!” cried Irnar. “I’m still prefect in this village, and you’re under my jurisdiction.”
Jason turned sharply, glaring at Irnar for a moment. “You don’t have any jurisdiction, you clumsy country chimp! Talk to Urko, if you have any doubt about who has precedence here. You’ll be lucky to get out of his office with your head on your shoulders. I won’t hear any more of your empty threats, Irnar. I advise you to enjoy your title, Prefect, because you will no longer have it, once I make my report.” Jason turned and stalked out of the cage.
Virdon glanced at Irnar. “Thanks,” said Virdon.
Irnar whirled to face the astronaut. He gave a cry of anguish, seeing his peaceful future vanishing, his one dream of contentment ruined. “Why did you ever come here?” he shouted. Then he turned and left the cage. The door was locked again by one of the guards.
Moving quickly, Burke and Galen ran from the woods, raced across the open area, and reached Tolar’s house. They listened for a few moments, but there was only silence. The two looked at each other. Burke shrugged.
Inside the house, Dalton sat alone in the main room. Tolar had not stirred or said anything further. The dark drapery remained undisturbed. The youth stared at it, lost in thought. He was startled by a knock at the door. He glanced in that direction, puzzled, wondering who it could be. Tolar and Dalton had received few visitors, despite the father’s previous glory. With many broken, confused thoughts spinning in his mind, Dalton got up and went to the door. He opened it and was even more surprised to see Burke. Galen stood to one side, out of sight.
“Can we come in?” asked Burke.
Dalton hesitated, turning to look at the somber barrier his father had erected. Finally Dalton nodded and stood away from the door. Burke entered; when Galen followed, Dalton reacted with even greater astonishment. For a few seconds, he could only stare at the young chimpanzee.
“I want to speak to your—” said Burke. He broke off when he saw the way Dalton was responding to Galen’s presence. “Oh,” said Burke, “this is my friend, Galen.”
Dalton was confused. “Friend?” he asked. “An ape?”
“Don’t let his appearance fool you,” said Burke.
Galen smiled, understanding what the young wrestler was feeling. He was not at all insulted. “Oh, yes,” he said. “It’s quite possible. Hello.” Galen held out his hand to Dalton.
“Hello,” said Dalton, more out of reflex than social grace. Hesitantly, though, he held out his own hand.
The young man and the young ape shook hands. Now, suddenly, Dalton smiled broadly, as though he had made a great discovery. It was, indeed, merely a confirmation of something he had always suspected. “Yes,” he said. “It is possible, isn’t it?”
“Look,” said Burke, “we need your father’s help. Yours, too.”
“What kind of help could we be?” asked Dalton curiously.
“Our friend’s in the cage,” explained Galen. “We have to get him out.”
“No.” Burke, Galen, and Dalton turned to see Tolar, who stood in front of the dark curtain. “No,” said Tolar again, this time more forcefully. He was very tense and angry; his hands were clenched at his sides and his face had flushed a deep red color. He glared directly at Burke.
“You have disgraced me,” said Tolar in an anguished voice. “We will not help you disgrace the prefect, too.” He turned to Galen with a touch of deference. “We are loyal citizens here,” he said, not knowing Galen’s relationship to Burke.
“Listen to me for a moment,” said Burke, not yet understanding Tolar’s reluctance to help them. “My friend’s a human being. He’ll be taken back to Central City and Urko will have him killed.”
“He’s a stranger,” said Tolar. “We owe him nothing. He is a criminal. We have no debt to him.”
“You owe me something!” said Burke hotly. “You owe me your life!”
Tolar walked across the room until he was very close to Burke. He looked into the astronaut’s eyes as he had before throwing the dirt in Burke’s face, as he had in the arena. On each occasion Tolar’s reasons had been different, but his expression had been the same, the same as it was now—determined and proud. He spoke, and his voice was tight and filled with bitterness. “For that I tell you to leave my house!” he said.
“No, Father!” said Dalton sharply, almost without thinking.
Startled, Tolar whirled, staring at Dalton in shock.
“He’ll stay,” said Dalton. “And if I can, I’ll help him.”
There was a long moment of silence as the man stared at his son, not knowing what to say. The youth was only a little smaller than his father. They were nearly matched in strength; only Tolar’s vastly greater experience allowed him to defeat Dalton in their practice wrestling matches—that, and, of course, Dalton’s natural reluctance. But now, with Dalton asserting himelf, Tolar was at a loss. “So,” he said finally, “you are taking on the authority of father.”
“I am sorry,” said Dalton, anguished. The situation was very difficult for him. He had never contradicted his father in this way before. “You have retired to your bedroom. You said that you were no longer among the living. Well, this man’s friend is among the living, and he needs help.”
“This is your decision?” asked Tolar.
“I can’t turn them away,” said Dalton.
Tolar looked from Dalton to Burke. Slowly, his proud demeanor almost visibly altered. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he turned slowly and went back through the curtain, into his sleeping area.
Jason was making use of Irnar’s desk, writing his report. He barely glanced up as Irnar entered the hut. Jason continued to write. Irnar glared; the implicit insult of Jason’s working at Irnar’s own desk and the omitted acknowledgment of Irnar’s presence were clear enough.
“The approach you we
re taking with that man would not have worked,” said Irnar, attempting to be firm with Jason. The gorilla didn’t bother to reply. Irnar pressed on. “Some men do not respond to force. I have made a study of human behavior. I have had a good long time to observe them.”
“You’ll have your opportunity to tell Urko all about your studies,” said Jason contemptuously. “It will get you nowhere. Urko doesn’t share your tender concern for humans.”
“My way is practicial,” said Irnar. “It controls humans with the minimum effort and cost.”
Jason gave a short laugh. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said. “That’s precisely what I’m putting in my report. I saw an example at the arena.”
“The people reacted that way because they need a death to finish off their games,” said Irnar. “They didn’t get it.”
Jason put down his stylus with exaggerated calm. He looked up at Irnar; his expression was ugly. “I’m very, very sick of hearing about your games. Irnar!” he said.
“But it’s true!” protested the prefect. “Human nature! Violence! Aggression! Hostility! My way keeps them from—”
Jason interrupted the flow of Irnar’s arguments. “You’re raving,” he said. He was about to add something, when he suddenly slapped the top of the desk. “I’m such an idiot!” he cried. “Your way,” he said, in response to Irnar’s questioning stare. “Your humans want a death. We should let them have the prisoner.”
“But I thought your orders were to capture the two humans and the chimpanzee and return them to Central City,” said Irnar. “Don’t you have to keep him protected until Urko can question him?”
“Officially, yes,” said Jason, letting his voice trail off meaningfully. Irnar looked at him for a long moment, then grinned.
“You needn’t send in that report, either, Lieutenant,” said Irnar.
Jason looked up with a good deal of distaste. “I am General Urko’s lieutenant,” he said slowly. “At least, sometimes I am described that way. More accurately, I am his aide de camp and his military liaison office on detached duty. My own rank is colonel. Even a raw gorilla recruit would know that from the insignia on my uniform.”
Planet of the Apes 04 - Lord of the Apes Page 14