“Cornelius,” Zira sighed. “I think it’s too dangerous.”
“Don’t worry, Zira,” Bill comforted her. “Cornelius will be okay. And just to make, sure, I’m going to go along with him on his first flight.”
“Oh, thank you, Blue-Eyes,” Zira said, smiling. “I’ll feel a lot better about the whole thing with you along. There are times when Cornelius is a bit too scientific and not quite practical enough. With you along, I’m sure the flight will be a success.”
* * *
That night, Cornelius, Bill, and Jeff—with some help from the humanoids—finished putting together the bits and pieces of the balloon, which Cornelius had brought along in his truck. Then, after a good night’s sleep, they were ready to go.
“How high do you think the balloon will take us, Bill?” Cornelius asked.
He pointed to the long, flat shape on the ground that was beginning to stir as the breeze started to blow from the far-off Eastern Sea toward the mountains.
“That depends on the winds, the temperature, and a lot of other factors. Why?”
“Because there’s a specific spot in the mountains I would like to visit: the Forbidden Temple on Mount Garr.”
“I think you’d better leave your visiting until later,” Jeff advised them from where he was standing checking the hot-air burners, “and make your first few flights as just test hops around the area—until you get the operation of the balloon down pat. Later, you can start making trips farther away.”
“But I need to reach Mount Garr now,” Cornelius said. “That’s why we brought the machine out here to you. So you could help us reach the mountains.”
“Why?” Bill asked. “What’s the big rush?”
“Well… last week I found a book. A humanoid book. Which is damning enough if General Urko got his hands on it! But, even worse, inside the book are pictures of humanoids looking at apes. And the apes are in cages!”
“So,” Bill suggested, “why not take the book to your Supreme Council—your Council of Elders—and force them to understand the real history of this planet? Isn’t this the proof you keep saying you’re looking for? The proof that your Book of Laws is not an accurate history of Earth?”
“Yes,” it’s the proof I’ve been looking for all these years,” Cornelius admitted. “But now that I have it, I don’t think it’s enough. I don’t think it will work. Too many of our leaders are like Doctor Zaius. They’re afraid to admit that the Book of Laws and the Book of Simian Prophecy may be based more on fiction than fact. If I take this to them now, they’ll simply destroy it—and probably me along with it. They’ll never admit, not even to themselves, “that such a thing could be true. Imagine, humanoids keeping apes in cages! It would be blasphemy! No, it will take more than just this one piece of evidence, I’m afraid. It’s going to take a mountain of evidence that they can’t bury, to force them to change their attitude toward the humanoids!”
“Well, then, give us the book,” Bill offered. “We’ll hold on to it as part of the humanoids’ history.”
Zira spoke again. “We thought of that. But frankly, we are afraid it just wouldn’t work.”
“Why not?” Bill inquired.
“Because what you’re doing—getting the humanoids away—is dangerous, and even unlawful. If you’re spotted by a patrol, or if some of General Urko’s troops should happen to go into the valley of the humanoids and realize they’re gone, he would try to recapture you. That would be bad, but not nearly as bad as having you captured and having the general find the book in your possession! That would be a death warrant for every humanoid on the planet, and Urko’s key to getting unlimited political power. We must not let that happen!”
“So you want to hide the book somewhere safe—where no one can find it?” Jeff asked, puzzled.
“That’s right. In the Forbidden Temple on Mount Garr. It will be safe there,” Cornelius answered.
“But if you’re going to hide it in a temple,” Bill asked, “what’s to keep the priests there from finding it and giving it to Urko?”
“There are no priests in the Forbidden Temple,” Zira replied. “Not anymore. Once it was thought that the top of Mount Garr was sacred, because some people who went up there with fatal illnesses came back cured. So the temple was built. But then it was learned that while something in the ground cured some sick people, that same something killed everyone else!”
“Sounds like radiation,” Jeff said.
“Radiation? What’s that?”
“Something your science isn’t quite up to yet, Zira,” Bill explained. “This temple sounds like a good place for the book, though.”
“Do you think the balloon will make it to the top of Mount Garr?” Cornelius asked.
“We can try,” Bill said. “Come on, let’s get this thing inflated.”
Jeff bent down and opened the twin valves on the air heater Cornelius had built. When he heard the soft hiss of combined compressed air and gasoline coming from the burner head, he pulled a burning twig from the campfire and held it over the burner. With a soft woosh the flame caught, and air was sucked through the burner annulus and heated, then directed into the circular opening at the base of the balloon.
“I still don’t understand how a little hot air can be powerful enough to lift all that weight,” Zira said, stepping back as the balloon began to quiver with life, small bubbles and pockets humping up from the ground as the heated air flowed between the folds of the light canvas.
Inside of ten minutes the balloon was half filled, rising up into the first light of dawn. Bill quickly straightened out the mooring lines he had attached to three points on the gondola in order to keep it from being blown into the trees surrounding the clearing.
“Give me a hand with this, will you?” he called as the balloon started to lift the gondola from the ground.
The two men and Cornelius strained to get the balloon and gondola in the proper relationship, so that none of the lines would be twisted; then the giant bubble of canvas was full and straining to fly.
Bill levered himself up into the gondola and turned the burners down slightly. Next, he turned back and reached a hand down for the ape scientist.
“Okay, Cornelius,” he said. “Hop aboard!”
Cornelius took the astronaut’s arm and hoisted himself into the gondola, almost falling out when the breeze rocked the balloon, then catching hold of the edge of the wicker basket to steady himself.
“Cornelius,” Zira yelled upward, plainly frightened, “are you sure you want to go through with this?”
“You know how much I want to experience flight,” her husband called down. “I’ll be all right! Everything will be fine!”
“Give him his chance, Zira!” Jeff was standing by one of the three mooring lines, ready to cast it loose, “After all the work he put into building the balloon, he deserves his ride in it. And Bill’s a good pilot. He’ll take care of him and bring him back to you safely.”
“You can come along on the next trip, Zira!” Cornelius shouted from the gondola.
“Never! Nothing on Earth could make me set foot in that thing!”
“Okay, Jeff! Let go of the mooring line!” Bill called.
“Wait!” Zira bellowed. “Do you have the book?”
“Right here!” Cornelius answered loudly, holding up the slim volume that had caused them so much worry since he’d found it at the archeological excavation.
Jeff waited only a moment. Then he released the mooring line he had been holding. Moving quickly, to keep the balloon from being dragged to one side of the clearing, he released the other two lines, and with a sudden upward bound the balloon was on its way. From the gondola, swaying gently beneath the canvas canopy, Bill and Cornelius waved good-bye and Jeff and Zira returned their waves.
Slowly, for the wind was as yet just a gentle breeze, the balloon vanished behind a screen of trees to the west. Zira stopped waving her handkerchief, and instead pressed it briefly to her eyes. Then she turned and looked
at Jeff, sadness and fright on her features.
“Do you think I’ll ever see him again…?” she asked.
* * *
While the zephyr of a breeze carried the balloon slowly westward, the lifting power of the hot air trapped inside the canvas, constantly replenished by the burner just above the gondola, pulled the balloon higher and higher into the air. Within minutes, Bill and Cornelius were high enough to see the horizon on all sides.
Five minutes later, the balloon was passing through wisps of cloud; then larger puffs of cumulus completely obscured their view of the clearing they had launched themselves from. The air now grew chill, and Bill drew his rough deerhide jacket tighter around the spacesuit he had rescued from the Venturer.
Soon the gondola began to sway jerkily back and forth as the balloon passed through conflicting wind currents. Moving carefully, Cornelius eased himself over to the side of the wicker basket and, his hands tightly clutching the edge, he looked down at the ground, rapidly disappearing in a haze far below their west-drifting vehicle.
“I have made a very important scientific discovery,” Cornelius shouted after a loud gulp cleared his throat.
“What’s that, Cornelius?” Bill yelled back.
“That when one is flying, it is best not to look down. Especially if one had a large breakfast.” Holding tight to the edge of the gondola, Cornelius watched in fascination as a small bird flew past the balloon, giving the two of them a curious look, then winging on toward the eastern coast. “Besides,” he croaked, his voice quavering slightly, “aren’t we going much too high?”
“Relax, Cornelius,” Bill answered, smiling. “Everything is fine.”
“How can I relax? Whenever any of the balloons built by us apes went this high, it either collapsed or exploded—those that got off the ground at all, that is. And the ones that did get this high weren’t carrying all the weight of a gondola and passengers.”
“Well, this balloon isn’t going to collapse or explode. It’s well designed, and we shouldn’t have any trouble with it.”
“I certainly hope you’re right,” Cornelius responded, taking a cautious peek over the edge of the gondola.
“We seem to be headed pretty much due west,” Bill called out, changing the subject. “Where’s this mountain you want to visit? Somewhere along our line of flight, I hope.”
“Yes, it is. Just a bit to the north. But we’re headed in the right general direction. There—up ahead!” he yelled, pointing to the horizon. “See that large peak that’s rafter flattened on top? That’s Mount Garr—among those extremely high mountains, the highest range within hundreds of miles.”
“Well,” the blond astronaut said, squinting his eyes to compare their direction of drift with the course to Mount Garr, “it looks as if we might not make it right on the top—we’re headed a few degrees off that course. But we should be able to ground either near the base of the mountain or on its slopes. How high is it? Can we climb it?”
“From the lower slopes,” Cornelius answered, “to the ledge just below the top, where the Forbidden Temple was built, is about five thousand feet.”
“Whew!” Bill said. “That can be a pretty rough climb without equipment.”
“No, it shouldn’t be any problem. The slopes are gentle on all sides, and on the southern face there is a cut trail. We should be able to climb to the top in five or six hours, and come back down in another three. We might even make it back in time to catch the evening breeze to the east.”
“Well,” Bill sighed, “I told Jeff and your wife not to expect us back before early tomorrow evening, so there’s no real rush…”
“There is one slight problem, however, I believe,” Cornelius said, still hanging on to the edge of the swaying gondola.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t like the looks of those clouds coming in from the east, behind us.”
The astronaut quickly turned and looked back the way they had come, then to each side. The clouds, dark and heavy-looking, filled the sky behind them, which just a short time before had been clear. And to the north an arm of clouds had prodded ahead of the main body, almost as if the storm was trying to reach past the sailing balloon in order to encircle it and drag it down.
“Well?” the chimpanzee asked after several minutes of silence. “Aren’t you going to reassure me?”
“No,” Bill answered grimly, “I’ve got to admit that I don’t like the looks of the clouds either.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“Land and sit it out! Which I hate to do—if only because we don’t know how long it’s going to last, or what we might find below. We could come down right on top of some tall sequoias or mahoganies and get stuck far above the ground, with no possibility of getting the balloon free.”
“Yes, I see your point. I guess we haven’t much choice, then, have we…?”
Slowly and almost imperceptibly the wind speed increased, until the balloon was rushing through the sky at what must have been nearly sixty miles an hour ground speed. The temperature dropped even further now, and Bill and Cornelius crowded into the center of the gondola. There they were a bit more exposed to the wind than they would have been, crouched below the basket’s edge; but in the center they were able to absorb some heat from the gas burner that supplied hot air to the canvas envelope above them.
In less than half an hour, Mount Garr, which had been ahead of them and slightly to the right when they first spotted the storm building up, was passing behind them as the winds took them past their destination, into the higher peaks and unknown territory.
As the dark clouds hemmed in the balloon, Bill began to valve off the hot air, at the same time turning down the burner, in an attempt to lose altitude. But the winds were not going to release them that easily, and as lightning began to crash about the balloon, the wind swept the canvas bag ahead at such speed that the gondola stretched out behind it at a forty-five-degree angle.
Bill soon closed the relief valve and turned the burner back up, however. He was afraid that if he bled off too much of their hot air, a “still” spot might appear in the hurtling storm winds, and they would be sent crashing to the ground with zero lift.
Thunder and lightning bolts now exploded in rolling waves and the gondola was now tossed by shock after shock. Ice began to form on the ropes attaching it to the balloon and occasional Stinging sprays of terribly cold rain shot across the basket.
Through occasional breaks in the roiling clouds, Bill could see the landscape below him. Gone were the forests and grassy meadows. Now all he saw was rocky tumbled boulders of gray granite and jagged spires of stone waiting to pierce their frail craft. Patches of white-gleaming snow glistened between spreads of the dark rock; then, within minutes, snow covered everything, and this made it difficult for Bill to judge the balloon’s height above the rocks. What had been a storm was now a howling gale, and the balloon was coming closer and closer to the ground. Not that the balloon was loosing height! No. The mountains were rising to meet the balloon, to snatch it from the sky and grind it to pieces against their hard granite sides.
The gondola began to spin round and round, back and forth, under the balloon, the ropes holding, it to the hot-air bag twisting and pulling it up against the canvas, then releasing it, to twist it up the other way. With each turn the man and the chimpanzee inside were thrown about—against each other, against the sides of the basket—and once Bill was tossed against the burner, which left an angry red welt on his hand as he thrust himself away from it.
Then what Bill had been fearing happened. The winds started to ease; and as they did so, the balloon began to fall.
“Hang on!” Bill yelled. “We’re going down!”
The winds whistled in the rigging with the speed of their fall and the clouds became thinner and thinner, allowing them longer glimpses of what lay below: the snowy peaks and rocky reaches of unforgiving mountains.
The balloon, falling less quickly for a brief moment, b
arely missed a needle-like pinnacle of rock. Then it dropped quickly again as a downdraft caught it and sucked it toward a narrow pass in the high mountains.
“Where are we?” Bill shouted to Cornelius over the screech of the wind.
“I have no idea,” Cornelius yelled back in a moment of wind calm. “In the mountains somewhere to the west of Mount Garr. But I have no notion how far we may have been blown already. And my maps at home show no detail of these towering mountains—they’ve never really been explored, you see.” Cornelius peered out over the edge of the gondola at the snow-covered terrain that seemed to be all rugged mountaintops and steep glacier-filled canyons without a flat spot anywhere in sight.
The wind that was now carrying the balloon down and along at about forty miles an hour apparently was funneling toward a dark, slab-sided canyon—a canyon full of twists and turns. Outcroppings of ice-coated rock reached from the sides as if to pluck the balloon from the air and send it dashing to the canyon floor far below, where a fast-running river of icy-gray water filled the canyon from side to side.
Holding tight to the ropes to keep from being thrown from the gondola as it twisted from side to side, struck by up and down drafts in the narrow canyon, Bill peered with squinting eyes into the patches of icy mist that sometimes surrounded them, trying to get some idea of what was coming next. But, even though he had been straining his eyes, he had no warning of the violent jolt that tumbled both of them into the bottom of the gondola as the balloon crashed into something protruding from the canyon wall. Something that had been completely hidden in the swirling mists. Something that caught and held the balloon, swinging the basket around in a whistling arc and slamming it into the deep snow on a canyon slope.
Two bodies, one light-haired and light-skinned, the other dark-furred and green-clad were thrown abruptly from the gondola, where they lay without moving in the snow.
* * *
Far below, on another snow-covered slope, stood a white-clad gorilla on skis, with the gold triangle of lieutenant pinned to his pale-blue snow-troops harness. He stared upward through a pair of long, powerful binoculars at the collapsed balloon and the two dark spots that showed, unmoving, against the white background.
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