Planet of the Apes 04 - Lord of the Apes

by George Alec Effinger

  “That’s beside the point,” said Irnar excitedly. Jason’s expression indicated that he did not agree, but the prefect went on anyway. “I have a feeling that I may be able to stay on as prefect. You’re going to see how my theory works.” Jason only nodded doubtfully.

  Curtains were drawn over the windows in Tolar’s house, protection in the unlikely event that someone from the village approached the house while Burke and Galen were still there. Tolar had retired to his separate quarters. Galen sat by one window, the curtain drawn back just enough so that he could peer out. Dalton and Burke were seated by the fireplace, in which a fire had been built to chase the sharp coolness of the evening. Burke whittled on a stick and Dalton added another bit of wood to the fire. “Humans more important than apes?” Dalton asked incredulously. “There really was such a time?”

  Burke shrugged. “I was there,” he said.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” said Burke, staring into the fire. “That’s something we’ve been trying to learn since we got here. Information, history . . . all of that seems to be jumbled and scrambled and lost. But I can guess. War. Killing. Men destroyed each other. Themselves.”

  “But the arena,” objected Dalton. “You didn’t kill my father. And you could have. You were supposed to.”

  “I had no reason to kill him,” said Burke.

  “It’s the way of the games,” said Dalton. “Ever since I can remember, that has been the way.”

  Burke repeated his statement quietly. “I had no reason to kill him.”

  Dalton looked at him for several seconds, touched by Burke’s sentiments, yet troubled. He rose, his inner feelings in conflict. He went to the window beside Galen and looked out. Then he glanced back at Burke. “In your time, did all humans feel this way about killing?” he asked.

  “It depended on the war,” said Burke. “But there were always some who wouldn’t kill for any reason. Conscientious objectors. Pacifists. Whatever label people stuck on them, they all meant pretty much the same thing; that these people figured human life was just too special.”

  Dalton glanced at Galen. “Do you understand this?” he asked.

  “I’ve never understood the need to kill,” said the chimpanzee. “It’s a thing for humans.”

  “My mother was a . . . ‘pacifist,’ I think,” said Dalton.

  “Do you remember her?” asked Burke gently.

  “Of course,” said Dalton. “I was young, but she told me things. Father doesn’t understand, but I try—”

  “Wait a minute,” said Galen, raising one hand.

  “No, really,” said Dalton, misunderstanding. “I sometimes think about what my mother—”

  Galen was listening intently. He cut off Dalton again. “Horse,” murmured the chimpanzee. “Someone coming.” He moved quickly away from the window.

  “Hurry!” said Dalton. Burke looked at Galen for a moment. There was nowhere to hide in the cabin, with the possible exception of Tolar’s shut-off area. But it was not likely that Tolar would let the fugitives hide there. They ran for the back door. Dalton watched them, concerned for their safety. In a few seconds, he heard the sound of a horse walking. The sound stopped; a short time later there was a knock at the front door. Dalton opened it. Irnar entered, and the young human nodded his head respectfully.

  “Prefect,” said Dalton.

  “How is your father, Dalton?” asked Irnar. Before the youth could answer, Tolar pulled back the drapery and appeared. “Ah,” said the ape, “Tolar. How are you?”

  “I am ashamed, Prefect.”

  “No, no,” said Irnar. “I won’t have it. The champion of Kaymak all these years. Such a glorious career.”

  “All careers come to an end,” said Tolar. “Mine should have, but didn’t. Not in the way I deserved.”

  “No,” said Irnar musingly. “But it was the man who fought you, he should be ashamed. Not you.”

  “Yes,” said Tolar. “I . . .” His voice trailed off. He glanced at Dalton, a mixture of emotions running through him. He hesitated, then looked back at Irnar. “Prefect,” he said, “I—”

  Dalton could guess what his father was about to say. He wondered if Burke and Galen had remained close enough to listen to the conversation and to run if it became dangerous. “I think you should lie down, Father,” said the youth.

  Tolar looked at his son. “I think he should know—”

  Dalton interrupted. “There’s nothing for him to know,” he said. “The prefect needn’t be bothered with every detail of our lives. It is nothing.”

  Irnar’s eyes closed slightly. He glanced from one human to the other. “I am concerned for your welfare,” he said. “What is this ‘nothing’?”

  “My father’s disgrace,” said Dalton smoothly. “You cannot imagine how much it troubles him.”

  Irnar shook his head. “I knew it would,” he said. “Your father is a most proud man. But, Tolar, it will be forgotten. Your shame will be washed away, I promise. The games tonight will make the people forget.”

  Dalton gave Irnar a quick glance. “Tonight?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Irnar, turning to Dalton and smiling. “The torches will be lit and you will bring honor back to your family. You will fight the friend of the man who disgraced your father. And this time there will be a death. Is that understood? I want no error. There will be a death.” With that, Irnar turned and left the house.

  A moment later, the back door opened and Galen and Burke entered, standing just within the doorway, disturbed, looking at Dalton.

  Dalton was stunned by the prefect’s announcement and stood staring into space as Tolar came to him, proudly putting his arm around his son’s shoulder.

  EIGHT

  The cool dusk was marked by the first faint flush of stars. In the west, the sky was still bright red where the setting sun had burnt it. Virdon sat on the floor of the cage, pushing the straw around idly. He was slumped disconsolately against a wall; after the clout he had taken from Jason’s rifle, he had not come near the bars. His attention was aroused by the sound of a key being placed in the door’s lock. He looked up.

  Morko, the gorilla guard, was opening the door. Behind the gorilla stood Irnar. There was a second gorilla standing guard near the prefect. Virdon looked at them without much interest. Irnar entered the cage and walked over to the man. He looked down at him with a sense of compassion. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment, if I may,” he said.

  “It’s your town,” said Virdon, shrugging.

  “I can understand your hostility toward me,” said the prefect. Virdon only looked at the floor in silence. “You say you are from another time, I hear,” continued Irnar. “You and the other human. This is what Jason told me.”

  “Yes,” said Virdon.

  “Is it better than now?” asked Irnar.

  “It’s different. And it’s home.”

  “Yes, I can understand that. As this is home to me. And that’s the reason I—” Irnar broke off sadly. “I’m sorry you ever came to my village. Any of you.”

  Virdon answered flatly. “No sorrier than I am. We had no choice. From the moment you picked up that magnetic disk and put it in your pocket, I had to get it back.”

  Irnar looked at him in surprise. “It was that?” he asked. “That little thing? That’s why Galen came to—? I wish he had simply told me. I’d have given him the thing with my blessing. It meant nothing to me. Instead, that disk has caused us all an untold amount of grief. So foolish.”

  “You can still do it,” said Virdon. “Just give me the disk and let me go.”

  Irnar shook his head sadly. “Give you the disk? So that you can be free to search for your home, while I lose mine? I’m sorry. Truly. But the time for free choice is past.”

  “It never is,” said Virdon. “Not for intelligent minds.”

  “Sometimes,” said Irnar, “there comes a time for action.”

  “Not unreasoned action,” said the human.

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sp; “What happens now is not the result of whim,” said Irnar gruffly. “I can assure you of that.”

  “What happens now?”

  There was no answer from the prefect. Irnar signaled the gorilla guards that he was finished and left the cage. Morko locked the cage again and walked off with Irnar, leaving the second gorilla to stand sentry duty.

  Galen and Burke moved stealthily along the street. There were still a few people about, but these were concerned only with getting to their houses and supper. No one noticed the chimpanzee and the astronaut as they moved closer to the cage, walking in the shelter of the huts’ shadows. One of Jason’s gorillas crossed the street ahead of them. They took refuge against the side of a building, peering around. “It’s impossible,” said Burke under his breath.

  “It’s possible,” said Galen, unaware that he was voicing Burke’s unheard sentiment. “How can we do it?”

  “I don’t know,” said the astronaut. “But it has to be before night falls. And we can’t swing it alone. You’re the one who came up with the plan to—” Burke broke off thoughtfully. “Wait a minute. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He turned and ran, leaving Galen alone, worried, and watching.

  Some time later, Burke arrived at Tolar’s house, out of breath from his run. He rushed up to the house and opened the door. He burst into the main room, which was unoccupied. “Dalton!” cried Burke. There was only silence. “Dalton! Tolar!”

  He hurried to the drapery that shut off Tolar’s bedroom, opened it, glanced in, then went back out to the main room. His idea was in jeopardy; he had not counted on the house being deserted. He looked around in frustration, trying to plan his next move.

  There was a small graveyard near the edge of town. The markers stood in rows like sentinels. Near one particular grave, a huge figure was kneeling. It was Dalton, alone. He was lost in thought; anguish and helplessness showed on his face.

  After a while, during which Dalton was lost in solitary meditation, another figure approached from behind, standing there for a moment, watching the thoughtful young man. It was Tolar. Dalton was as yet unaware of his father’s presence.

  “I loved your mother very much,” said Tolar finally.

  Dalton glanced up at Tolar, then looked at the grave. “What would she tell me to do?”

  “A man is not a woman,” said Tolar. “Even if she were alive today, she could not do your thinking for you.”

  “She said there was no honor in killing,” said Dalton.

  “She said. But she loved me, Dalton. And she would never have noticed me, except for the games. I would have been nothing, except for the games.”

  “That’s not true, Father,” said Dalton earnestly. “You would have made some other life for yourself.”

  Tolar stared at his hands and shook his head. “Doing what?” he asked. “Have you not lived well, because of my success?”

  “How many have you killed, Father?” asked Dalton.

  “The prefect created the games. They brought peace to the village. That is a blessing.”

  “That is beside the point,” said Dalton. “Do you even know? How many men have you slain?”

  “As many as I have fought,” said Tolar impatiently. “As you will tonight. In the arena, it will all look differently.”

  “But I have no reason to kill him,” said Dalton, remembering Burke’s words.

  “It’s the way of the game,” said Tolar.

  “Is it?” asked Dalton, not believing it for a moment any longer.

  The last traces of the sun’s rays were vanishing, and the sky was turning from dark blue to black as Dalton arrived at the house of the prefect. Inside, after Irnar admitted the youth, there was an uncomfortable silence. Irnar studied Dalton, not quite sure what to make of him. Dalton was rather uncomfortable at suddenly doing this rash thing.

  “I wanted to talk to you, Prefect,” he said.

  “I know that you have a strange reluctance about fighting in the games,” said Irnar pensively. “Strange for the son of the great Tolar.”

  “That is possibly my mother’s influence,” said Dalton quietly.

  “It is the nature of man to kill,” said Irnar. “That is something that has been demonstrated to the satisfaction of every scientific investigator.”

  “Then why didn’t the stranger kill my father?”

  “Perhaps there is some unkown explanation,” said Irnar. “These strangers are fugitives and criminals, after all. They are desperate. Perhaps the stranger accepted a bribe, or something of that sort. Not that I’m trying to implicate Tolar, you understand. But possibly there was some illegal contact with another inhabitant of our village. Who knows? Who can tell the ways of humans?”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Dalton.

  “What exactly do you want from me?”

  It was difficult for Dalton to get the words out, but it was something he had to do. “Prefect,” he said, stammering, “I . . . I think the games are wrong. I think maybe that killing is wrong.”

  Irnar completely lost his patience with the young man. “Not in the games!” he cried.

  “Always, my mother said. Always. I never understood until now, Prefect. But the stranger didn’t kill, and now I know that my mother was right.” He paused for a moment as he gathered his courage. “Prefect, I’m not going to fight.”

  Irnar stared at him, amazed at Dalton’s impudence. “I order you!”

  “I can’t,” said Dalton, his sudden courage used up. He felt weary. “It’s wrong. And I have to tell the others in the village. I have to make them understand that it’s wrong, too.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” shouted Irnar. “You are directly attacking me and my system of government. You are being rebellious. Be careful what you say, Dalton.”

  “The people have to know what has been shown to me,” said Dalton. “They have to know that the games are wrong, that killing is wrong—”

  Irnar was incredulous. In a fury, he rushed to fling open the door and call out. “Sergeant!” he shouted. “Sergeant! This human has broken curfew!” He looked at Dalton. “That’s all I need . . .”

  Tolar’s main room was no longer deserted. The huge human paced across the floor, raging. Near him stood Burke. Tolar was nearly out of his mind with hatred. Burke watched and listened carefully; somehow he had to get through to Tolar.

  That seemed unlikely, in Tolar’s present frame of mind. “Destroyer!” he cried. “Destroyer of me! Destroyer of my son!” Tolar stopped his frantic pacing, breathing heavily. He turned to face Burke. Tolar’s hands clenched and unclenched, and he flushed with anger. Burke backed away a step or two, warily, as Tolar slowly moved toward him.

  “Easy, Tolar, easy,” said Burke in his most conciliatory voice. He was trying to avoid setting the man off entirely. The one thing he didn’t need was a rematch of their battle in the arena. “Just relax, Tolar, just—”

  Tolar had other ideas. “You tell him killing is bad! What have you done but kill? You killed my honor! You killed my son’s manhood! You—”

  “Wrong, Tolar, wrong,” said Burke, frightened by Tolar’s intensity. He raised his hands as though to ward off the man’s savage emotional outburst.

  Tolar had had enough debating. With a snarl he leaped for Burke, his hands outstretched to catch and twist the smaller man’s neck.

  The door opened and Galen ran in, sizing up the situation as quickly as possible. Burke was going into a defensive crouch, his knees slightly bent, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. “Tolar!” cried Galen. “Tolar, don’t!” Tolar stopped at the unexpected interruption. He momentarily halted his advance on Burke to see what the voice behind him meant. “Tolar!” said Galen. “Your son! He was arrested! He’s been put in the cage!”

  There was only stunned silence from Tolar. He didn’t know how to deal with this latest and most unexpected turn of events.

  “Tolar!” said Galen, trying to stir the man to positive action. “Your son’s been arrested!”

 
The news finally penetrated. Tolar tried desperately to understand. “Dalton? In the cage?”

  “Yes,” said Galen. “Because he was against the games.”

  Tolar’s anger and outrage grew. He forgot the fury he had felt for Burke, now that it was turned in a new direction. “In the cage? My son?” His voice became almost a scream. “My son?”

  Virdon once again had company in the cage. This time, however, it was neither Irnar nor Jason. It was Dalton, and the young human was a prisoner, also. Virdon was trying to catch up on the activities of his friends, whom he hadn’t seen since much earlier that day. “Did they have any kind of scheme or plan?” he asked.

  “No,” said Dalton. “At least, none that I heard.”

  Virdon chewed his lip while he thought. The situation in Kaymak, as peaceful as the village had appeared to be, had turned into one of the most perilous the three fugitives had ever experienced. “If they’re smart,” said Virdon, “they’ll just take off.”

  Dalton didn’t understand Virdon’s words. “ ‘Take off’?”

  “Go away,” said Virdon. “Leave. An expression from my time.”

  “In your time,” said Dalton. “If there had been no killing then, men might still be important now. That’s true?”

  Virdon glanced at Dalton. In all of his travels about the ape empire, Virdon had met very few humans or apes who understood that simple truth. “It’s possible,” said Virdon after a moment.

  Dalton thought for several seconds. “It could still happen,” he said. Virdon looked at the young man, realizing that there was more depth to Dalton than he had first guessed.

  Two gorillas stood on guard outside the cage. One of the apes nudged the other and pointed down the street. “Look,” he said. His companion looked and saw Tolar striding down the street toward them. His bearing and quick pace indicated that he was in a dangerous mood.

  “No closer,” said the first gorilla, raising his rifle as Tolar came near them.