Planet of the Apes Omnibus 2

by John Jakes

  He let it flutter as he went to his fire. He gave it a final stroke, then dropped it into the flames.

  Thade watched it spark as it burned, his gaze hooded and thoughtful. Suddenly he reached into the fire and withdrew a branding iron. He spun, catching her hand with his one free hand as he plunged the searing metal into her flesh. The smell of burning hair filled the tent. Ari uttered a sharp moan of agony.

  “You want to be human?” Thade snarled. “Then wear their mark!”

  The tent shook as Krull sprang through the door, snarling, closely followed by Attar, his own fangs wide. The two gorillas faced each other.

  Thade looked at them, then dropped Ari’s wounded hand and gestured at Attar to calm himself.

  “Let them return,” he told his commander. “Tomorrow they will die with the humans.”

  Slowly Attar relaxed, nodded. He stepped back from Krull. The old gorilla touched Ari, who seemed stunned, and gently led her out.

  Thade followed them outside the door of his tent and stood, watching them walk away. After a long moment, he turned to go back inside, but before he let the tent flap fall, he cast one final glance over his shoulder at her, just before she vanished in the shadows.

  She didn’t see. He was glad. He felt as if he’d just fought the greatest battle of his life. He didn’t want her to know how close the final outcome had been.

  * * *

  With the ruins of Calima at his back, Davidson stood beneath the hazy stars with Daena and the rest of the humans closest to him.

  “There’s one possibility. One shot, but it’s worth taking,” he told them.

  He gestured at the ruins. “We’ve got to draw them in close. Put all those people behind the ship. But don’t hide them. I want them seen.”

  Daena looked puzzled. “What about us?”

  “You’ll be on horseback. In front of the ship. Waiting for my signal.” His gaze swept them. “Absolutely still.” He paused. “You’re the bait.”

  Birn looked eager as a puppy. “I won’t move until you say so!” he said stoutly.

  Davidson glanced at him. “You won’t even be out there.”

  “But—”

  Davidson shook his head. “That’s enough.”

  Birn wilted immediately, although anybody who knew the boy well might have seen the hint of stubbornness remaining on his smooth features.

  * * *

  Inside the Oberon’s bridge, Davidson blew a thick layer of dust off another bank of controls. He had the messenger box with him as he began to tap the keyboard tentatively, watching the nuclear fuel gauge as he did so.

  He was still intent on his work when Limbo came creeping up behind him.

  “Whatever you’re planning,” the slaver said, “don’t tell me. The anticipation will kill me before Thade does.” He paused, waiting for Davidson to respond, but when Davidson ignored him, he burst out, “I can’t stand it! You gotta tell me!”

  Davidson grinned a little, then looked away from what he was doing. “We can’t stop them… but we can scare them. Scramble up their monkey minds.”

  Limbo had never met Pericles. He puffed out his chest and said pompously, “We apes don’t scare easily.”

  Davidson nodded. “But when you do, it’s out of control. You start running and never look back.”

  Limbo started to protest, then stopped. He had his own memories. Maybe this wild human was on to something…

  * * *

  The third dawn of Calima was just blooming over the distant mountains as Davidson, astride his horse, looked down on the coming battlefield. The ape camp was just beginning to stir and morning cook fires flickered alight in constellations brighter than the fading stars overhead.

  The apes seemed to cover half the plain. His own people, the humans, were clustered around Calima, and seemed to him a pathetic force with which to oppose the armed might of the monkeys.

  How did they all come to be his responsibility? He didn’t know. Things had just happened, one after the other, and somehow he’d gone along for the ride.

  But they might all die today. And he might die with them. For a moment he thought of how much things had changed for him in just a few short days, how he’d gone from a confident young USAF pilot to rebel leader on a planet he’d never even known existed.

  What had happened to him? Bad luck? Stupidity? Fate?

  He didn’t know. But somehow, this didn’t feel bad. What had happened on this world was stupid, and evil, and wrong. Maybe he could help fix it.

  That would be enough.

  He kicked his horse and rode back down to the plain, dawn light reflecting in his eyes.

  * * *

  As Davidson rode back to Calima, the ape camp stirred like an angry beehive. The rosy blush of dawn hardened into the hazy light of early morning, as prebattle breakfasts were finished and cook fires banked.

  Officers ran about, shouting orders, forming their men into squads and companies. Near the center of the camp, Attar stood before his general’s tent, waiting. Suddenly the tent flap flew wide, and General Thade strode out, resplendent in gold-chased armor, a mighty sword buckled at his waist, his golden helmet under one arm.

  Thade’s eyes gleamed with martial lust. He stopped as a hostler brought up his armored charger, then nodded.

  Attar’s welling emotions finally got the better of him. He bared his fangs, threw back his head, and roared.

  The sound of Attar’s roar echoed across the length and breadth of the camp, where the soldiers, now arrayed in divisional ranks, heard it with quickening hearts and a narrowing of their eyes.

  They threw it back, a fearsome mass thunder that shook the earth as Thade picked his way through them to the van. As he took up his position, the buglers began their wild skirling, a steely counterpoint of sound to the apes’ continuous roars.

  General Thade gave a final inspection to the irresistible force arrayed behind him, and then, well-satisfied, nodded at the line of mounted officers at his rear. He raised his right arm, held a moment, then brought it forward, as he slammed his heels into his charger’s ribs.

  As one, the army of the apes marched on Calima in the morning sun, screaming for human blood.

  * * *

  The humans hidden throughout the jagged, rocky crevices of the ruined city heard the blood-roar of the apes long before they saw the army.

  Davidson could see a few of their faces from where he stood. They were all strangers to him, but they shared a kinship, and even on this strange planet, he knew human fear, and the stubborn bravery that conquered it, when he saw it.

  Nevertheless, with the bloodcurdling thunder rumbling from beyond the horizon, he could smell panic in the air, and hoped they would hold until things began to play out. If they broke and ran at the wrong time, they would all die.

  He held the messenger in his hands, open and activated, and scanned its screen as he waited. A sudden scrabble in the rocks behind him interrupted his concentration, and he turned to see Krull and Ari scrambling toward him.

  Davidson didn’t think the old warrior gorilla looked especially happy, but he took a place among the rest of the humans, and made ready to fight.

  From above, where Tival had been keeping watch on the highest pinnacle of Calima, came a cry: “I can see them!”

  Davidson shaded his eyes. The horizon was smudged with haze, and for a moment he couldn’t make anything out. Then the distant line grew thicker and seemed to waver as the van of the ape juggernaut slowly trod into view.

  He could see glints of light from the dark, shimmering line, as sunlight struck bright flashes off the officers’ armor.

  Closer they drew, and closer still, until Davidson could make out Thade himself, riding in the front, and a line of armored cavalry behind him. The size of the force shook him. He’d expected an army, but not a flood.

  Well, it was too late to turn back now. There was no place left to hide.

  Suddenly, trumpets blared across the distant host. The infantry behind the
officers dropped from their upright marching position and surged forward, running on all four of their limbs with frightening speed.

  It was like watching a blood-colored tsunami surge across a shore toward them, destroying everything in its path. Davidson watched a few moments longer, then ran for his horse.

  Gunnar, Krull, Daena, and several others mounted themselves and followed him out onto the plain a good distance from the spires of Calima, toward the onrushing wave of apes. As they waited, Ari came galloping up and took a place next to Daena. Daena glared at Ari, then saw the brand on her hand.

  The horses smelled the blood lust, and began to prance and skitter about. The humans, who had small experience with controlling frightened horses, were having trouble keeping them in hand.

  Davidson yelled, “Hold them… hold them! As long as you can!”

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, Birn came galloping up. Daena knew Davidson had told him to stay back with the others hiding around the city, and hailed him.

  “What are you doing here?” she yelled.

  Birn set his jaw stubbornly. “I’m part of this!”

  She shook him off. Hundreds of bloodthirsty apes were now almost on top of them. She didn’t have time to argue with an obstinate brat.

  “Wait with the others like he told you!” she ordered, but by then, it was too late.

  The apes came loping up, howling at the top of their lungs, the rattle of their armor like the sound of a thousand clanking chains, and Davidson shouted, “Now!”

  The group of riders split in half, and each part rode full-tilt toward one side or the other of Calima, swirling around the city in a wide pincer movement, to join again on the other side.

  The apes, enraged at the near escape of their prey, surged forward even faster, uttering savage roars as they came.

  Davidson had already reached his old position when he looked back and saw Birn, riding hard, but only a few yards in front of the first wave of apes.

  Come on, he urged the boy silently. Go! Go!

  But then Birn’s mount stumbled, tumbled, and hit the ground, kicking and stunned, with Birn trapped underneath.

  Davidson ran out onto the plain, knees pumping like pistons, gauging the distance between the boy and the first of the monkeys. With a little luck, he just might make it…

  He slid in beside the boy, slid in and slammed his shoulder against the horse. It shied away from the blow and somehow managed to get itself righted again. Moving like a monkey himself, Birn leaped up onto its back. Davidson slapped the horse’s flank and sent it galloping away.

  He turned to see Thade, his sword out and gleaming in the morning light, riding hard toward him.

  He turned and ran for his life.

  Thade watched him go, did a quick calculation, and realized he wouldn’t be able to catch Davidson before the human reached the relative safety of the rocks. He pulled up, but the troops pounded on. The rocks held no fear for them, as they had no horses whose legs could break on the treacherous footing.

  Davidson, breathing furiously, reached the messenger again, only a few paces in front of the apes. Behind him, humans peered out of the rocks, their eyes bulging, their mouths gaping, terrified at the onrushing swell of doom about to crash over them.

  Davidson grabbed the messenger and punched in a few quick commands. Nothing happened. He tried again.

  Still nothing. In despair, he turned to face the charge of the ape army.

  Deep inside the rocks of Calima, a light came on in the bridge. The fuel monitor flickered, flickered again, then burst into a strong, steady light.

  The rocks began to vibrate.

  Outside, Davidson felt the sudden jolt, and looked up at the strangely angled spires, which were the Oberon’s partly fossilized drive tubes.

  An eerie, piercing hum filled the air. Watching the apes, Davidson slowly began to smile.

  The monkeys were in full battle frenzy. Only a few noticed the strange new sound, and of those, even fewer paid it any attention. They were still pounding forward, claws outstretched, when white fire belched from the spires and spilled out over them like a blast furnace.

  They never knew what hit them. The first wave was simply vaporized where they stood. The ranks behind them were blasted off their feet, their coats singed away, and the naked flesh beneath barbecued into charcoal. Bits and pieces of ape, even whole carcasses, rained down on the staggered survivors, who immediately broke ranks and began to run for their lives.

  Farther back, General Thade watched the inexplicable destruction of his finest troops. Somehow he managed to throttle the blind rage that threatened to send him sweeping out to his own death in those awesome flames, and forced himself to watch and think.

  Suddenly the roaring thunder died, and the heat that had blasted across the plain faded away. Thade squinted. Where the front of his army had been was now a huge, dusty cloud his vision couldn’t penetrate. Out of the cloud staggered a few broken troops, hideously burned, wandering aimlessly.

  Thade closed his eyes. That was that, then. He’d probably just lost most of his best soldiers to that wild human beast. He had no idea what the man had done, or whether he could do it again.

  He looked over his shoulder. He still had the rest of his army, though, and he didn’t need his best troops to hunt down and kill vermin.

  On the other side of the cloud, Davidson gazed in awe at what he’d done. The wind was stronger here, whipping away some of the murk. He could see a few wounded apes staggering about. The humans in the rocks could see them, too, and they rushed out and surrounded the nearest pair of apes, waving their makeshift weapons.

  But these were no soft city apes. They were two of Thade’s finest, hardened in battle, confident of their superiority over even a hundred times their number of humans. After all, did an ape fear a thousand ants?

  They wheeled on their attackers, growling fiercely, and waited for the humans to run away.

  And the humans did stop. Three thousand years of submission was bred into their bones, their muscles. They stopped… but they didn’t run.

  The apes stared, shocked at the unexpected turn. They raised their mighty arms, showed their fearsome claws, and growled again.

  The nearest humans flinched, took a step back, then stopped again. Suddenly one of them, a man whose eyes were slitted with rage, growled back! Then the rest of them were growling, too!

  Behind them, the rest of the humans began to shout. The roars built until the sound was nearly physical, a great upwelling of rage finally loosed on those who had tormented them for all their history.

  The apes quailed, rings of white suddenly showing at the rims of their eyes. Then the humans rolled over them, and they vanished.

  Thade saw all this, and contemplated the ruin of his duty and of his dreams. Attar came pounding up. “How can there be such a weapon?” he gasped. “We cannot defeat them.”

  Thade didn’t reply immediately. He sat, his face like iron, as the wind whipped about him, and the shattered remnants of his van lurched past. Farther back, the rest of his force began to break ranks as the first hints of panic set in.

  He wheeled on Attar. “We will attack!” he snapped.

  “But sir! He can destroy us all!”

  Thade drew his sword.

  “We will see,” Thade replied, then turned and galloped straight toward the swirling dust cloud. As Thade rushed forward, he glanced back and saw Attar leading the rest of his army after him. His fangs glinted once. Then he was in.

  Davidson lifted his head, listening to the distant sound of hooves. Everything had depended on the ape army panicking. But if they hadn’t…

  The dust cloud had pulled back, exposing the battlefield on this side. Ape bodies littered the earth. A few humans were still beating the survivors. Otherwise, all was still.

  General Thade galloped out of the cloud and pulled up his horse. His eyes found Davidson as if the two could sense each other. Davidson stared back at him, his heart sinking.

 
Thade opened his mouth and roared his hatred and defiance at the filthy human who thought to defeat him.

  Limbo, beside Davidson, shuddered, and whispered, “By Semos, we’re done.”

  Now Attar appeared out of the smoke, followed by hundreds more apes. He rode quickly to his general’s side.

  Thade waited for him, then lifted his sword and pointed it at Davidson. “I am tired of this human.”

  He raised his voice. “Attack!”

  Spurred by his command, the apes rushed toward the enemy, and were met by an answering roar from the humans. Thade spurred forward. Then the wind shifted, and the dust cloud rolled over all.

  For Davidson and the rest of them, what followed was a blur, as battles always are, a jagged frenzy of fragmented action and disjointed memory.

  Davidson found himself surrounded by milling, roaring apes and shrieking humans. One ape jabbed at him with a long spear, growling ferociously. Davidson dodged, rolled under the spear, then grabbed the weapon and twisted it from the hands of the startled ape. He kept on going, straight into the path of another monkey wielding a net like a man catching fish. The ape saw him, made ready to cast, but Davidson, still running, scooped up a handful of dusty earth and threw it into the ape’s eyes. As the ape struggled to clear his vision, Davidson rammed his spear into the monk’s belly. He wrenched the net from the ape soldier’s flaccid fingers and headed for the next confrontation.

  High above, Tival still manned his lookout. He was trying to watch the battle, but couldn’t see much through the dust. Even the sounds seemed muffled and far away. As he strained forward, a sharper sound intruded. A rattle of gravel…

  He turned and found himself facing a huge gorilla. The gorilla turned its head back and forth, fangs slavering, as if trying to decide whether Tival was good to eat.

  Numb with terror, Tival raised quaking hands and backed away… straight into the arms of the second ape.

  They threw him off the spire and laughed as he screamed all the way down.

  Daena charged her horse straight through the center of the battle, slashing her weapon one way, then the other, as her mount’s hooves added to the deadly work. Thade saw her coming, unlimbered his bolo, set it whizzing above his head, and spurred toward her.