Kira looked up, embarrassed to be caught so plainly wandering. “It’s delicious,” she said. “Really. I’m just not very hungry tonight.”
Leander understood that something serious must be troubling Kira. She was not at all her cheerful self. Her depressed mood had put a ceiling of unpleasantness on the entire evening. “It can’t still be the patient you lost today,” he said.
“No,” said Kira, “I’ve taken care of that. I’ll write the report in the morning, and you’ll have it tomorrow afternoon.”
“No, no,” said Leander, waving a hand. “I’m not concerned about that at all. But if it isn’t the patient, then there’s something else worrying you.”
“I was thinking about that orderly we sent to disciplinary camp for not obeying orders. I wonder, was it really necessary to treat him so harshly?”
Leander laughed to discover that the matter was so simple. He had been afraid that Kira was growing tired of him. “He behaved like an unruly beast; he needed punishment. Where is the harshness?”
Kira toyed with her food for a few seconds before she spoke. Her thinking was in direct contradiction to the very basis of the apes’ society. “But are humans nothing but beasts?” she asked finally.
“At their best, they’re useful animals. At their worst, they are carriers of hatred and destruction.”
Kira followed Leander’s chain of reasoning in her own mind. The conclusion she came to was not pleasant. “In that case, it is our duty to stamp them out?” she said.
Leander sat back in his chair and nodded. “Like the plague,” he said.
The comparison was especially unpleasant to Kira. It brought to mind the only way the apes had of controlling plague: by slaughtering every human and ape who had come in contact with it, sometimes whole villages; mercilessly hunting down anyone who might have escaped, and then killing all those innocent people who had been unfortunate enough to come across the path of the fugitives. Kira’s innate sense of compassion revolted, but before she could reply to Leander, there was a knock at the director’s door.
“Come in,” said Leander.
The door opened and a young chimpanzee intern entered. Kira recognized him as Dr. Stole, a bright young ape whom Leander had assigned to his own personal staff. That was a practice that Kira secretly disfavored. Leander consistently took the best of the new doctors to do his own administrative work, leaving the least qualified surgeons to perform the actual operations. Kira, as chief surgeon, often had her hands full, consulting and correcting the work of her juniors.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, Director,” said Dr. Stole. “There’s a new arrival, a Dr. Adrian. He says that Dr. Kira is expecting him.”
“Quite all right, Stole,” said Leander, yawning. He turned to look at Kira.
“That’s the new visiting physician,” she said. “I’d better show him to his quarters. I’m sorry that I have to leave, Leander. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
Leander frowned, but he tried to make his reply pleasant. “The loveliness was in you, not the evening,” he said. Kira nodded gratefully, got up, and followed Dr. Stole out of the room. Behind them, Leander still sat in his chair, brooding, pensive.
Outside, in the courtyard that faced the main gate, Kira walked toward the security booth. The air had cooled since sunset, and the breeze was very pleasant, but Kira did not notice. Her thoughts were on what she had consented to do, and on what Leander had said over dinner. At the front gates the cart with Burke and Galen waited. There was another human being there, a slave kept by the hospital staff, about forty-five years old, named Travin. Kira nodded at Travin’s greeting. Seeing Kira, Galen called out to her. “Ah, Dr. Kira,” he said. “I’m sorry that I’m late. We had an accident. One of my orderlies has been injured.”
Galen pulled back the tarpaulin to reveal Virdon lying in the back of the cart. Kira looked at him briefly, trying to conceal the fear that grew steadily within her. “Is that your treatment, Dr. Adrian?” asked Kira. “Throwing a tarpaulin over the creature?”
Galen was startled, but realized that Kira’s words would do more to cement his identity with the witnesses, Travin and the gorillas at the gate, than all the effusive greetings in the world. “Shock, Doctor,” said Galen. “I was afraid that the human would go into shock, so I wrapped him well. It was the best that I could do on the road, without the resources you have at your disposal here.” Kira only grunted in reply.
“Travin,” she said, “find room for these two in the humans’ quarters.” Kira turned to Galen. “I’ll show you to your room, Doctor,” she said.
Travin helped Burke carry Virdon toward the humans’ quarters, a low building at the edge of the compound. Galen went with Kira toward the main hospital building.
High above them, staring down at the torch-lit scene, Leander stood, his expression unreadable. His thoughts were confused for the first time in a long while, and his usually unshakable self-confidence was weakened. Couldn’t Kira have sent the intern to show the new doctor to his quarters? Why did Kira take the opportunity to leave? Leander let out his breath in a loud sigh. He couldn’t deduce her reasons, but there would be time enough to find the answers. He turned away from the window, his mind already burying his worry beneath smooth, comforting layers of assurance.
Meanwhile, Travin led Virdon and Burke to the humans’ barracks. Travin and Burke half-carried, half-dragged the wounded man slowly and arduously across the hard dirt yard. Travin studied the two newcomers distrustfully. He didn’t like anyone whom he didn’t know, anyone who might present a threat to his small scrap of authority among the other humans. Before they entered the barracks, Travin spoke to Burke. “I’m not even going to ask how your friend here got a bullet in him,” he said. “Your ape friend said you had an accident on the road. It must have been some accident.”
Burke looked calmly at Travin. “I’m glad you’re not going to ask about the bullet,” he said. “Let’s get him inside.” Travin muttered under his breath, but said nothing.
The humans’ quarters consisted of a large central room, little more than a hovel, that served as entrance hall, dining room and, for the humans of the lowest status, sleeping place. Several humans were about; one of them, a plain-looking, timid, withdrawn girl of about eighteen years, was cleaning up after supper. She stopped her work and stared as Travin and Burke carried Virdon across the threshold. The two men carefully rested Virdon on one of the straw pallets that lined the perimeter of the room; Travin started to leave. Burke caught the man by one arm. “Not here,” said Burke. “He’ll need his own room.”
Travin stared in astonishment. “I have my own room,” he said with a sneer. “All the other humans sleep here.”
Burke chewed his lip. Virdon often argued that their common enemy was not the apes; it was power and the individuals who abused it, whether simian or human. Here was an instance that proved Virdon right.
“He’s sick,” said Burke at last. “He needs special care.”
Travin snorted. “We don’t provide special care for sick humans,” he said. He said humans as though it meant a kind of creature he had never himself seen. “If a man is sick, he rests. If he lives, he returns to work.”
Burke frowned; he noticed that both of his hands were clenched into fists. He forced himself to relax, to think through the situation carefully. The tiniest misstep would land Virdon and himself, and Galen, too, in the hands of the gorillas and General Urko. And then they’d be dead. “That’s a very progressive system you have there,” said Burke, “but it doesn’t apply to us.”
“It applies to everyone,” said Travin angrily.
Burke laughed, putting on an air of confidence he didn’t feel at all. “Sorry, Mac,” he said. “We work exclusively for Dr. Adrian. And he gets very nervous when his servants get pushed around. So whatever passes for the luxury accommodations around here, that’s where my friend goes. Can you understand that? It’s really not all that difficult.” And without waiting for an answer from
Travin, Burke turned to Virdon and started to help him to his feet.
Virdon grunted and did his best to stand, but he just couldn’t. His face twisted with agony. “Come on, pal,” urged Burke, “I’ve just arranged for the Presidential suite.”
“Maybe I ought to stay put,” said Virdon. “We shouldn’t cause trouble.” Once more he tried to stand, and again the exertion proved too painful.
“Your friend is making sense,” said Travin. “You really oughtn’t to make trouble. You don’t know the way things work around here. You don’t know who can make trouble for you—if you understand me.”
“I think you’d be amazed how well I understand you,” said Burke contemptuously. He turned to Virdon again. “There won’t be any problems, Alan. He won’t tangle with, uh, Dr. Adrian.” Without turning around again, Burke spoke to Travin. “Give me a hand,” he said.
Travin scowled; he was frustrated and angry, but Burke had been right about one thing. The invocation of a chimpanzee doctor’s authority had stopped him. Reluctantly Travin helped Burke lift Virdon and carry him toward the interior of the building.
Later that night, after they got Virdon settled comfortably in Travin’s own quarters, Burke sat at a dining table, trying to dig into a plate of some unrecognizable food. Behind him, at the fire, was the same girl who had been cleaning up when Burke and Virdon had arrived. Next to Burke, Travin was eating his own meal in glowering silence; half a dozen other humans, all men, sat at the table, no one making any conversation. Burke took a bite of the food, chewed it several times, and made a disgusted face.
“This is really terrific,” he said. “I’ve been all over, and, believe me, this is the lousiest food I’ve ever eaten. What is it, dried mule hooves? I’ve had better food when I got a mouthful of sand at the beach.” Burke looked around him, but there was no answer. None of the others even looked at him. “Yeah,” said Burke, “and remind me when the time comes to make a few comments on the ambience of this place, too. It reminds me of a lot of traffic courts I’ve been in. But the food tops that. I can’t believe the food.”
There was still no answer. The others continued eating without reacting to Burke at all.
“You wouldn’t happen to have some chili sauce for this, would you?” he asked. “Anything. Just to kill the taste.”
Travin did not look up from his own dish. He spoke in a quiet voice, his tone filled with scorn. “We have what we have,” he said.
Burke realized that his comments weren’t making him very popular with the local humans. He was sounding like the pampered servant of an ape, one who had become used to fine living, while Travin and the others passed their lifetimes as slaves. Burke was playing his role well, but he got an inkling that he might be going too far for his own welfare. “Well,” he said, “that’s okay. They probably didn’t have great food camping out with Attila the Hun, either. All that paprika had to be covering something up.”
The girl came up to the table and set some bread down before each man. Nobody said anything to her, until she placed a piece of bread before Burke. He smiled at her; she either didn’t or wouldn’t notice. “Thanks,” he said. “What’s your name?”
There was a heavy silence for a brief interval. Then, suddenly, Travin exploded with outrage and anger. “Don’t talk to her!” he shouted. He slammed his hand on the table next to Burke, almost upsetting the dark-haired astronaut’s plate.
“You almost spilled my food,” said Burke. “That would have been a real shame. Then you would have killed off all those bugs on the floor.”
“Did you hear me, you fool?” shouted Travin, still standing over Burke threateningly.
“I heard you,” said Burke softly. “I just asked her name.”
Travin’s brows drew together, and his face flushed red with rage. Slowly he let out his breath and sat down. When he spoke again, it was from between clenched teeth. “She has no name,” he said.
Burke leaned back and looked calmly at Travin. He picked at a piece of food lodged between his teeth. After he had let Travin stew for a few moments, he said, “Everybody has a name. That’s kind of a tradition among us folk. That’s so we don’t get confused who we are.”
Travin looked like he was about to throw a punch at Burke’s jaw, but the memory of what the man had said about Dr. Adrian stopped him. “Her name has been taken from her,” he said. “She is no one.”
Burke looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “I really can’t believe you people. Her name was taken away? What did she do, run a red light?”
Travin glowered at Burke, but did not answer. After a few seconds he got up and left the table in anger. One of the other humans cleared his throat and spoke.
“The girl is his daughter,” said the man.
“What?” said Burke, not sure that he had heard correctly.
There was no further conversation. The man who had answered him returned his attention to his bowl of food. The room was once more sunken in silence. “That’s terrific,” muttered Burke. “It’s really great being here with you guys. I think I’d almost rather have the bullet in the back.” But he didn’t say it loudly enough for anyone to hear; he had the definite feeling that what he said could easily be arranged.
A few hours later, when the day had ended and the men had chosen their sleeping places on the floor of the main room, a figure entered, illuminated only by the light of a flickering lantern in the adjacent kitchen area. Travin, for that was who was walking carefully and stealthily among the sleeping men, checked that Burke was among them, and that he was sound asleep. Then he walked on through to the interior of the building.
He stood on the threshold of his own room, in which Virdon lay, asleep. Virdon was on a crude cot in a corner of the small room. Travin entered, put down the lantern which he had taken from the kitchen, and sat down on the floor. For a long time he stared at the sleeping man. Satisfied that Virdon was sound asleep, Travin got up slowly and quietly and went to the bedside. Carefully, he began to search Virdon’s pocket.
Virdon awoke suddenly, startled. The motion was painful, but he forced himself to grab Travin’s arm. “All right,” he said, grimacing in the dim, flickering light, “who are you and what are you doing?”
Travin fought down the panic that was rising in him. He knew that Virdon didn’t know who he was as well as Burke did; he knew that Virdon was probably half-asleep and partially delirious from his wound. He forced himself to calm down, and in a firm voice he said, “They told me to look in on you. I wanted to make sure that you were all right.”
Virdon nodded. His face was dripping with perspiration. “I’m all right,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Thank you.”
Virdon closed his eyes again and slowly lowered his head to the cot. Travin watched him and saw the twinges of pain that stabbed through Virdon’s body. “I wish it was that other guy,” muttered Travin, as he turned to leave.
Outside, alone in the compound under the black night sky, Travin slowly opened his fist to examine the object that he had found in Virdon’s pocket and had concealed from the man.
It was Virdon’s compass, a crudely made model fashioned from a few scraps that the astronaut had picked up in his travels. Still, it was something that had not been seen in the world in many centuries. The gorillas and the other apes, dependent upon the stars for navigation at night, were often hindered by clouds. It was the compass that enabled Virdon, Burke, and Galen to outrun their pursuers on many occasions, for the three always knew in which direction they were traveling. In the hospital compound’s yard, Travin turned the compass around in his hand, and wondered at the needle that always pointed in the same direction. His limited imagination couldn’t figure a reason for such a thing; as a matter of fact, he thought that having a needle that wouldn’t turn was a definite disadvantage. He looked off toward the north, toward which the compass needle pointed. He looked up at the stars in that part of the sky; a faint glimmering of the value of the compass began to spark in his mind. Suddenly he
stared at the strange object in awe and terror—who were these strangers? What magic did they know?
TWO
Kira sat at her desk. Her office was clean and, because of its distance from the operating rooms, quiet. The sun poured in through the windows, shining brightly on the polished wood of the desk and cupboards. Kira frowned as she studied a large book. After a long moment of silence she looked up, tense and unhappy. “It’s no good,” she said.
Galen sighed. It was going to be difficult after all, even though he had Kira’s full cooperation. She had such a highly developed sense of ethics that she wouldn’t proceed until she had completely researched the case. “All the medical texts deal with apes,” she said. “There’s nothing in any of them on humans.”
“But you know where the bullet is,” insisted Galen.
Kira answered him impatiently. “We know the bullet is lying near a nerve. We don’t know what that nerve looks like or where it runs. And there could be major blood vessels in the area. If we just went in blindly, we could kill him.”
Galen was surprised by her words. “Which means that you care what happens to him,” he said.
“I’m a surgeon,” said Kira bluntly. “I’m not a butcher who goes blundering in with a knife, just to see what will happen. And to operate in ignorance is butchery.”
Galen considered what Kira said for a moment; the situation was a genuine dilemma. All the good will in the world would do Virdon no good; but Kira had a sound argument, as well. “All right,” said Galen at last, “if I found a book on human anatomy, would that help you?”
Kira nodded, but her voice sounded hopeless. “There are no books on human anatomy,” she said. “What ape would have wanted to write one?”
Galen shook his head. “I was thinking of a human book,” he said.
Kira was astonished by the notion. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “Humans don’t write medical books.”
“They did once,” said Galen with conviction. He didn’t have the time to convince Kira of all that he had learned from Virdon and Burke, but he had to persuade her of this particular point. “A long time ago they did, when they ruled the earth.”
Planet of the Apes 02 - Escape to Tomorrow Page 3