Planet of the Apes Omnibus 2

by John Jakes

  Suddenly her voice broke.

  “We have some weapons, but I don’t know how much longer we’ll last.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at something off-camera. The thudding sound was rising to a crescendo now. Alexander stared for a moment, then turned back.

  “Maybe I saw the truth when they were young and wouldn’t admit it. We taught them too well. They were apt pupils—”

  She broke off again as a thunderous crash sounded behind her. Her face blurred into a mask of horror. She raised one arm, trying to shield herself, but then four huge apes bounded into the picture and overwhelmed her. The largest—Semos himself, Davidson guessed—suddenly looked directly at the camera. He bared his fangs in a ferocious snarl. The last thing Davidson saw was a huge ape hand reach toward him, blocking everything…

  And then nothing. Static.

  He watched to make sure nothing else would appear, but in his heart he knew it wouldn’t. He’d just seen, not the last of Semos’s victories, but the first. Pupil had replaced teacher in the most brutally final way possible, and in so doing, one of the pupils had made himself a god.

  He wondered if they’d eaten Alexander after they finished killing her, then shuddered at the thought.

  Finally he reached for the controls and made the static go away. He wished he could make the memories of what he’d just seen vanish so easily.

  10

  The sounds on the bridge were subdued, as the two females tried to absorb what they’d seen on the screen.

  Davidson was scrolling through the crew lists on the screen, until he found his own name and froze the page.

  Captain Leo Davidson.

  Missing in action.

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, although laughter seemed the more obvious reaction. He wasn’t missing. They were…

  Nonetheless, he realized his eyes were stinging. For them, partly, even Vasich, and for himself as well. Because he really was missing, in one very essential way. He was still alive, yes, but now he knew he was marooned on a world he’d never imagined could exist.

  I found me, he thought. I just don’t like where I found me…

  Ari seemed to sense his mood, and knelt beside him.

  Davidson looked down at her. “The crash, their deaths. They’re all dead because they were looking for me.”

  It was harsh, but he’d never been one to shy away from the truth, whether it hurt or not.

  Her eyes gleamed at him. “But we’re all alive because of you.”

  He didn’t know how to answer her, because what he felt at that moment—that he wished he’d never seen her planet—would only have crushed her. Instead, he turned away, fiddled meaninglessly with the controls. One of the digital gauges caught his eye.

  He paused, stared. Could it be…?

  “There’s a little power left in one of the fuel rods…” he muttered, his fingers beginning to dance on the boards with real purpose again.

  Daena watched him, saw the change. “You’re trying to find a way to leave us,” she said suddenly.

  Davidson looked up, gazed around the bridge with something very much like hunger.

  “I’ve been away from home for thousands of years,” he said softly.

  * * *

  Davidson, Ari, and Daena emerged from the mouth of the tunnel into the haze-softened light of Calima. A few moments later, the rest came straggling out, their expressions shifting among various flavors of confusion, dismay, or just simple shock.

  Calima was not a large city. In fact, it wasn’t even a city at all, in any real sense. Now that Davidson knew what it really was, he saw it in a new light. Those bizarrely tilted spires were nothing more than the Oberon’s drive tubes, scarred with scorch marks and encrusted with millennia of rocky accumulation. It was obvious that the earliest apes, those led by Semos himself, had done some crude building here. And over the years either his descendants, or, once actual knowledge of his existence had faded into divinity, his acolytes and worshippers had also built modest structures here and there. Religion aside, though, it was really nothing more than a long-forgotten crash site.

  As he wandered aimlessly out from under the shadows of those tall blast tubes, Davidson almost laughed. The apes had no idea what was really here. For one thing, they had a functional nuclear reactor. They also had electricity, radio, probably weapons, the ship’s library, and probably a hundred other things he hadn’t even thought of. If the apes understood what the ship was and began to exploit it properly, they could probably develop a high-tech civilization in only a few hundred years, and maybe even faster. Of course, he wouldn’t be around to see it…

  Depression battered at Davidson’s psychic defenses. There was going to be no rescue. His potential rescuers had been dead and dust for nearly a hundred generations, and now he was alone on a planet ruled absolutely by hostile monkeys. It was fairly difficult to see much of a future for himself in that.

  So he didn’t really notice the strangers until he almost stumbled over them as they emerged out of the haze in a wide, loose circle surrounding Calima.

  He stopped and stared at them, already numb, and incapable of feeling much more surprise. They halted as well, and stared at him, too.

  Humans. Lots of them. Men, women, children, most of the males marked with those tribal tattoos he now realized incorporated elements of the Oberon’s identification emblem. The human legacy had spread far and wide, and the humans here didn’t even know what it was.

  Many of them, men and women alike, were loaded down with huge packs. The men carried weapons, handmade spears with stone points, or sharp tips carved and then hardened in fire. Also clubs, and stone knives, even a few pieces of honed metal they’d scrounged from who knows where.

  Closest to the ruins were two he recognized. He’d seen them peering down at him from the cliffs at the river where the apes had camped. This time, they didn’t run when they saw him staring at them. They stood stolidly, as scores more of their people materialized out of the dust to join them.

  His own people were standing with him now, and for once, he was glad of it. Playing odd man out with a hundred barbarians of whose intentions he knew nothing about, was not a game he relished.

  “Who the hell are they?” he asked of no one in particular.

  Tival stepped closer. “Your story is spreading through the villages. They all want to see this human who defies apes.”

  As the implications of that notion flashed through Davidson’s mind, he felt a sudden surge of almost unbearable weariness.

  “Send them back,” he said.

  “Back where?” Daena flared. “They’ve left their homes to be with you.”

  Oh, great, Davidson thought, as he watched more of them appear. Lots more of them. Hundreds. All seeing him as their savior, maybe. Their human Semos.

  He wanted to scream at them: I’m no god, and neither was Semos. He was an escaped monkey, and I’m only a marooned space pilot.

  But gods and saviors existed as much in the eyes of their beholders as they did in reality. And he could see their eyes…

  * * *

  They cheered him as he moved through the motley crowd, pushed close to him, touched his strange, ragged garments in wonder. He felt hemmed in, oppressed by their adoration, stifled by the hope they laid on his back like a great stone. But he couldn’t turn away. If he was stuck here forever, these were his people. And he did know a few things, the most important of which was that the apes weren’t inherently superior to humans. Maybe it was time he taught that to these humans, as well.

  Limbo appeared out of the crowd, close behind him, talking rapidly. “See if you can talk your space friends into taking me. Because whichever way this goes, I’m out of business.”

  What space friends? Davidson wanted to yell at him, but he settled for simply walking away from him, and plunging deeper into the crowd. He’d had it with monkeys for the time being, especially not very reliably reformed chimpanzee ex-slavers with fast feet and faster
tongues.

  Ari materialized next to him, and that worried him a little. These humans might be as degraded and beaten down as any he’d seen, but they outnumbered the three apes fifty to one. And he doubted any of them had much use for apes. Live ones, at least. Most of them glared at Ari, although nobody made any overt attack.

  Not yet, Davidson thought.

  Ari didn’t seem to notice, though, and kept on walking with him, staring in wonder at the joyous expressions on the faces around her.

  Then one face jumped out of the crowd. A small woman of Asian ancestry, hesitantly pushing forward a little blond girl. Davidson stared at her, trying to remember. Bon, that was her name. Ari’s old servant. And the girl was the one they’d rescued from Thade’s niece. The pet.

  Ari leaped toward her and the two females, human and ape, embraced. Suddenly they both burst into tears. The little girl, shy and frightened, hid behind Bon, but then Ari dropped to her knees and coaxed her out. Ari lifted her and cuddled her, and after a long moment, the child relaxed and smiled up at her.

  Davidson was touched. I guess that’s about as hopeful as anything I’ve seen today, he thought. But then a darker memory intruded. He doubted if General Thade would agree with him.

  At dusk, Davidson stood on the top of the cliffs that ringed the Plain of Calima and the most spectacular sunset he’d ever seen. What with the perpetual haze, and the high clear air above, the setting of the dual suns touched off a blood-crimson and gold riot of light across the fading sky.

  It should have been a moment of peace and repose, but Davidson’s face was creased with deep lines of worry. Down below, the camp near the city was still growing as more and more wild humans gravitated toward the holy city of the apes, and the mighty human hero that rumor told them was waiting for them here. Many fires had been kindled, adding to the haze, and even from his high vantage point, he could hear the distant murmuring hum of their chatter, like the hollow whisper of some faraway sea.

  They thought they were coming to find salvation, Davidson knew. But from what he could see, all they were doing was turning themselves into the biggest target on the planet.

  And what was he supposed to do about that?

  * * *

  Far away across the plain, where the shadows had deepened into night, Birn rode in silence and solitude, his thoughts also wrinkled with worry. Not the same worries that Davidson struggled with. Birn still felt the same youthful confidence in the alien man that he always had. But his sharp ears had detected an ominous thunder, still far, far away, but moving closer.

  A range of wind-scoured hills thrust up from the plains nearby. He kicked his horse and galloped quickly up until he topped the crest.

  From this height, the horizon was a long way away, and in the dim light, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see it at all. But the distant line was etched with flickering fire. Hundreds of torches, he guessed. He didn’t have to guess who would be carrying them in such disciplined lines, and he didn’t have to be a genius to know that the distant, muted thunder he heard was the thud-thud-thud of battle drums.

  He watched for a while longer, then grabbed his horse’s mane, wheeled, and galloped back down with the wind streaming in his hair.

  Davidson had returned to his own camp in the ruins of Calima when Birn came racing up, yanked his mount to a halt, and threw himself down. He ran to Davidson and, still breathing hard, blurted, “I saw them!”

  Before Davidson could say anything, Krull looked up at the boy and growled, “How many?”

  Birn spread his arms wide. “As far as I could see.”

  Krull raised his thick eyebrows in surprise. Then he thought about it a moment before he turned to Davidson and said, “Thade has brought all his legions. That means the senate has capitulated. He answers to no one now.”

  Davidson didn’t need any manuals of military strategy to understand what that meant. He turned to Daena, who was listening anxiously.

  “Get your people away from here,” he told her. “They can go to the mountains, hide. While there’s still a chance.”

  Daena shook her head. “They won’t listen to me.”

  Davidson started to argue, then stopped. She was probably right. Most of them out there didn’t know her. Why would they pay any attention to her? There was only one they would all listen to…

  “Okay,” he said. “If they came here to follow me, I’ll let them follow.”

  * * *

  The word had gone out among the humans encamped around Calima that the strange, wild human would speak to them. Since rumors were running rampant that a huge army of apes was also bearing down on them, and would arrive at any moment, when Davidson climbed onto his horse and rode out to face the crowd, everybody was there waiting for him to speak.

  His appearance was greeted with more cheers, until he waved his arms for silence.

  “This is a fight we can’t win,” he shouted. He waved toward the mountains that edged the plain. “Break up and scatter! I’ll draw them off. I’m the one they want!”

  A low mutter of fear ran through the crowd. Men raised their fists, watching him.

  “Let’s go!” he cried, and kicked his horse away from the camp.

  He got several hundred yards before he realized his was alone. Nobody was following him. He turned, looked back, and saw Daena and the rest, standing silent with the rest of the humans, staring at him.

  There was nothing else to do. He turned around and rode back, clattered up to Daena, stopped, and dismounted.

  “They don’t understand,” he told her urgently. “It’s over. Finished. There’s no help coming!”

  Her eyes were luminous. She reached up, stroked his cheek.

  “You came…” she whispered.

  Then she kissed him.

  * * *

  The haze above the plain persisted even after darkness fell; over the huge camp of the ape army, it hung like a foggy reflecting shield, reflecting the dull glow of a thousand campfires.

  Near the edge of the camp, a huge shape slipped through the flickering shadows toward Attar, who stood and stared silently out over the plain.

  Suddenly Attar looked up. Something moving out there, coming toward him. “Stop!” he barked.

  No reply.

  Attar went tense, his nostrils widening along with his eyes. He strained with every sense, as the hairs at the base of his spine rose straight up. Something… there!

  “Come closer and identify yourself!”

  The shadow paused, moved toward him, then solidified into a gorilla even bigger than he was.

  Krull.

  Attar stared at his old mentor in disbelief. “You dare show your face here?” he rasped.

  Krull spread his hands. “It was not my decision.”

  Then he moved aside, to reveal the one who’d been hiding behind him. Ari looked at Attar.

  “I wish to speak to Thade,” she said.

  It took Attar a moment to gather his wits. He’d not expected to see either of these apes again, unless it was at the tip of his sword.

  He shook his head. “Impossible. You have betrayed your race.”

  Krull snarled softly. “And you have betrayed everything I taught you.”

  That stung. Attar glowered at him. “I could have you killed on the spot.”

  Krull moved forward a step, shielding Ari. He lowered his arms and flexed the immense muscles that corded his back. His lips pulled back to reveal a great expanse of yellow fang. A growl bubbled low in his throat.

  “You could try,” he told Attar.

  Ari quickly stepped between the two gorillas. She placed a light hand on Krull’s chest, restraining him, as she spoke to Attar.

  “Don’t you ever think we apes have lost our way? Don’t you ever have any doubts?”

  Attar almost laughed. What did this female think he was doing, standing out here on the edge of nowhere, staring off into the distance? Thinking about breakfast? Oh yes, he had doubts. Although he had no intention of letting
her see them.

  Then he realized she saw them anyway. Saw something, at least. Am I that obvious? he wondered.

  He stared at her while she waited. Finally, he nodded. And led her into the camp.

  The inside of Thade’s tent was no palace, but it was larger than that of an ordinary officer, littered with maps, armor, weapons, clothing.

  Ari stood just inside the door, her head down, waiting. Krull and Attar remained outside, trying to ignore each other, as both cocked their heads to listen.

  Thade looked Ari up and down, as if he’d found something painful and repulsive stuck to the bottom of his foot.

  “Why have you come?” he said at last.

  She looked up at him. “To be with you. Isn’t that what you want?”

  Thade stalked toward her, then circled her in silence, as if he were inspecting a piece of goods offered to him for sale.

  He snorted in disdain. “A trade? That’s what you’re proposing. Yourself for the humans.”

  He looked away suddenly. “Even when you were young, you took in stray humans. Your family always indulged your every whim.”

  Suddenly his hand lashed out, and Ari flinched. But Thade only smiled as he picked a fleck of dirt from her fur.

  “Now look at what you’ve become.” His voice was thick with disgust, and… something else.

  Or at least Ari thought she heard something else, and it was to that she launched her final appeal. She let herself relax into a position of submission whose meaning and intent would be unmistakable to any male ape.

  Thade froze.

  “It’s what you want, isn’t it?” she whispered. “I will be with you.”

  And in that instant she saw him waver, his iron will close to breaking…

  He pulled back. Physically stepped back, turned away from her, from what she offered.

  “I have no feelings for you now,” he said thickly.

  He reached into a pile of clothes, pulled out a colorful scarf. Ari recognized it. It was the one he’d taken from her in her bedroom.