by Titan Books
Burke, Virdon, and Galen were talking and laughing with Amy at the other end of the room. The young girl seemed to be almost entirely recovered, her young, strong body reacting quickly with the medicine to throw off the last ravages of the fever. The scene gladdened Zoran’s heart; it was unusual for him, too. Before this situation had occurred, he always felt uneasy even being in the same room with a human being.
Zoran walked to the small group. Amy, Burke, Virdon, and Galen were laughing when he approached, and they did not hear him until he spoke up. Zoran’s voice was uneasy and disturbed. “I would like to speak to you two a moment,” he said, indicating the two human astronauts. The laughter died around Amy’s cot. There was a moment of awkward silence.
Zoran turned and left the hospital hut. Puzzled by Zoran’s sober tones, Virdon, Burke, and Galen looked at each other worriedly. Then Galen shrugged and turned back to Amy. He was learning a great deal about the daily life in the village. Virdon and Burke stood up and followed Zoran outside.
Amy looked at Galen, not suspecting anything out of the ordinary. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” answered the chimpanzee; He stood up and followed his friends, more out of curiosity than concern.
Zoran, Virdon, and Burke walked slowly along the street, away from the hospital and the hearing of the others. “I suppose you’ll want to be leaving soon,” said Zoran, his voice shaking just a little.
Virdon nodded. “Yes,” he said. “We thought we’d be going later today.”
Zoran looked as uneasy as he felt. His voice was developing a nervous quality that neither of the astronauts liked.
“I’m afraid… that won’t be possible.”
Burke was puzzled by the chimpanzee’s words. “Why not?” he asked.
Zoran took a deep breath. He had had to do a number of difficult things in the last few days, but this was the worst of them. “Well,” he said, “I just can’t let you go.”
“But everything’s under control,” said Virdon. “You can handle it without us.”
Zoran cursed the denseness of these humans. They insisted on making the situation more difficult than it had to be. “No,” he said, “you don’t understand. I mean, I must tell Zaius and the others about you.”
At this point in the conversation Galen came out of the hut and caught up with his friends. He overheard what Zoran had just said. Virdon and Burke exchanged alarmed looks.
“You see,” said Zoran regretfully, “I know who you are.”
Burke decided to adopt a blithe ignorance. It was a simple plan, and one that did not have much chance of success, but Burke was beginning to feel desperate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Please,” said Zoran, almost begging. “This is difficult enough. Your knowledge of medicine. Things the girl said in her fever. I know that you are the two ‘astronauts’. And this must be Galen with you.”
Burke and Virdon looked at each other. Burke sighed. There was no point in arguing.
“Understand,” said Zoran with genuine feeling, “I deeply appreciate what you’ve done here, what I have learned from you.”
Burke had had just about enough. “Then how the hell can you turn us in?” he demanded.
Zoran would not be dissuaded. “Because you are fugitives. Zaius wants you. And I am loyal to Zaius.”
“I thought what we did here,” said Virdon, “I thought what we shared here… meant something.”
Zoran turned away. The situation was too much for him. “It does. It does. But—”
Burke spoke bitterly. “But we’re a lower species.”
“Yes.”
“Well, then,” said Burke, with a vicious edge to his voice, “if we’re lower—how come we’re smarter?”
Zoran still had his back turned. His words came muffled. “I… I can’t explain that.”
Galen took the opportunity to mention something that only another ape might think of, that only another ape could appreciate. “How will you explain that your ‘victory’ here was really theirs?”
Galen’s words made Zoran turn around again. His expression was fearful and cautious. Galen stepped forward.
“Or do you intend to take full credit for yourself?” asked Galen, making a casual question out of it, letting the real meaning of what Galen was driving at develop slowly in Zoran’s mind.
“Well,” said Zoran falteringly, “I, well, I have no choice. I have my… my position to uphold.”
Burke knew immediately what Galen had meant, and what Zoran either had missed or was consciously ignoring. “You turn us in,” he said, “you think we won’t tell Zaius?”
Zoran was outraged. “He wouldn’t believe you! Not the word of a… a human against that of an ape. And I am a member of the Supreme Council!” Zoran drew himself to his full height and tried to look imposing.
Galen paid no attention. “He’d believe me,” he said calmly.
“Very well,” said a deflated Zoran. “I won’t turn you in. You may leave.”
Galen nodded toward his two companions. “Where they go,” he said, “I go.”
Zoran was stunned. This was unheard of behavior for an ape. “You can’t be serious,” he said.
“Try me,” said Galen.
“But… but…” said Zoran, stammering in his astonishment, “they are…”
“Yes,” said Galen, disgusted at Zoran’s outmoded attitude, “I know. They’re… lower species.”
Zoran had to lean against a hut for support. He was shaken. The very basis of his life, his beliefs had been weakened, time and again during the last few days. This last development was the final blow.
“You’ve got a decision,” Virdon said. “Your loyalty… or your own selfish ego.”
“Ego?” asked Zoran, his voice but a hollow echo of its former strength. “I am not familiar with that word.”
“How will you feel, Doctor,” asked Burke, “when Zaius learns that you were advised by humans… every move you made… every word you said?”
Zoran sat down heavily in the dust by the side of the hut. Suddenly he had a great deal to think about. He had planned the ending of this experience with great economy and benefit to his career. Now, though, it seemed that he would emerge with nothing to show for it but a great weariness and the bitter taste of quinine still in his mouth. Zoran considered the words of Virdon, Burke, and Galen. At last he nodded. “I would suggest, then,” he said, “that you leave under cover of darkness.”
Galen, Virdon, and Burke smiled.
Late that night, the village had returned almost completely to normal. No one was any longer in danger from the fever. Families, mourning their lost members, were joined together again and celebrating all the blessings that they still had. From the huts came cheerful lights, and more cheerful voices.
Outside of the hut that had been used as a hospital Galen and Virdon were preparing their backpacks again, ready to make another attempt at leaving the village of Trion; the last attempt, only a few days before, now seemed shrouded in the haze of a greater length of time. It was a moment of some sadness for the man and the chimpanzee; they had learned to like the citizens of Trion, and the people there had made it clear that they would hate the thought of the companions’ leaving. But, as so often happened to the two men and Galen, their personal preferences mattered very little. It would only be a matter of time before Zaius or Urko learned of their identities.
Only three humans were still in their cots in the hospital, those who had been stricken late in the course of the disease, and who still needed a small amount of medical attention. One of these was Amy. She was almost completely recovered, but Virdon prescribed another day’s rest, just to be certain. He moved to her mattress and sat down beside her. The young girl looked up at him and smiled.
“You know,” she said, “it’s just as bad the second time. Saying goodbye, I mean.”
Virdon laughed softly. “You’re going to be all right.”
“Sure,” said Amy.
There was an empty moment, a painful pause.
Then Virdon said, “Maybe we’ll find a way to get back. Someday, back where we came from. Maybe, somehow, you could come with us.”
Amy looked at Virdon seriously, then nodded, smiling. She did not really believe him. “Sure,” she said, “maybe.” She paused. “Meanwhile, some of the things you’ve told me, maybe I can use them. You know, to make things better here. That’s something, isn’t it?” There was a strong note of hope in her voice.
Her words tore Virdon up inside. She was the most courageous, strong girl he had ever known; he corrected that in his mind. She was one of the strongest people he had ever known. “Yes,” he said sadly, “that’s surely something.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Goodbye, Amy,” he said.
“Goodbye,” she said.
Virdon turned and walked quickly out of the room without looking back. Tears were beginning to come into his eyes; he forced his mind to suppress the melancholy that had sprung up unbidden. He walked over to where his friends were waiting. It was more than likely that he would never see Amy again. He hoped that her life would be happy, and that she would, indeed, use some of the things he had taught her to make her own days and those of her fellow humans easier.
The two astronauts and their chimpanzee friend shouldered their packs and headed back out the road. People in huts came to their doors and shouted their farewells. A couple of people ran up with gifts of food and clothing. Virdon, Burke, and Galen accepted with some embarrassment and thanked the people.
As the travelers passed by, Inta and Zoran watched them go. At last Zoran waved slightly, a small and final token of friendship. But Virdon, Burke, and Galen did not see; he had been too late. Already the men and their chimpanzee friend were disappearing into the shadows.
Zoran looked at his assistant. Inta glanced at Zoran’s still-raised hand. Zoran noticed what Inta was looking at and, slowly, sadly, lowered his hand to his side. Then, when Virdon, Burke, and Galen had completely vanished from sight, Zoran turned and went back into the hut.
THE GOOD SEEDS
6
Summer had its way with the field; things that bore early promise of beauty and bounty either fulfilled that promise or died. Most of the wild flowers had opened to the sun, had thrilled to live for their short period, and already were dead brown husks among the undergrowth. Some bushes still held their gift of berries, providing small feasts for the birds and insects. These, too, would be gone. Soon, autumn would begin its brilliant reign, and winter would follow with spirit-killing frosts. But everywhere, locked into the everlasting and ever-mysterious cycle that was life and death in the field, was the implicit promise of continuation. Spring would return the melting field to vibrant fife.
There was very little to distinguish this field from many others in the vicinity. It was neither large nor so lushly overgrown that it would attract attention. Beyond its limits were gently rolling hills. The skies above the field had been bright blue, the very deepest blue that happens only once during the year; now, however, mounds of cumulus clouds were beginning to pile themselves up at the horizon, and the first hints of a fresh wind pushed the clouds overhead, obscuring the sky and the hot sun. The air smelled fresh and the sound of the field was the gentle noise of insects and bird calls.
There was no movement to be seen by an idle observer. But the same hypothetical audience would be aware of a swelling, growing racket of approaching horses. Beginning as a light, rhythmic pounding felt on the ground, the vibrations swelled, until the sound of thundering hooves was almost deafening.
Three mounted gorilla police rode by at a gallop, oblivious to the field’s subtle beauties. The gorillas, entrusted with keeping the security and safety of the other ape citizens, had no time for what they termed effete foolishness: the appreciation of beauty would be expected from the intellectual chimpanzees, or possibly even the governing orangutans. But a gorilla was trained from birth to a Spartan life, and each gorilla gloried in it, for there was little else to do with the results of the drills and training. There were no wars and no enemies—there was only watchfulness.
At the leader’s signal, the gorillas pulled to a halt. As the leader peered into the distance, frowning and unhappy, a second gorilla swung down from his horse to the ground, the metal clasps and buckles of his uniform jangling even more than the metal of his horse’s gear. The second gorilla studied the ground intently. At last, spotting something, he knelt to look more closely, and stood up with a triumphant expression on his face. “They were here,” said the second gorilla. “And the track is still fresh!”
Remounting his horse, he pointed in the direction they should follow. The leader nodded wearily and signalled the advance. With a crashing of hooves, the three horses rode off.
* * *
As the year was in its last glorious moments, so was this day. The sun was low in the western sky, lighting the cloud-covered sky with a glowing band of brightness, colors which rivaled even the summer flowers for intensity. Not a great distance from the field, on the side of a brush-covered hill, three strange figures struggled. The figures neither fit in with the unspoiled landscape about them, nor, in a greater sense, with the social environment that encompassed their world.
There were two human beings and a chimpanzee. They labored up the hill as though they had been marching for many long hours, for many uncountable days. This, indeed, was true, and though they had traveled a great distance since early the morning before, still they kept going. They were fugitives, and there was not a place in the world that was safe for them to rest. Nevertheless, they had to keep looking; to stop would admit defeat. And that, as always, would mean death.
The two human beings were named Alan Virdon and Pete Burke. Although they had not been born in this world, in this time, they had known its loveliness in another context. The chimpanzee was called Galen, and he was a contemporary of the gorilla police. These three oddly matched comrades had been bound together by the chains of mutual need, mutual respect, and a growing and unprecedented friendship.
They panted and fought the fatigue that threatened to engulf them. At last, reaching the crest of the hill, they stopped briefly. Burke, tall, handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes, looked back the way they had come.
“What’s the matter?” asked his friend Virdon.
“I don’t see them,” said Burke hopefully.
Virdon ran a hand through his blond hair. “If you did,” he said, “it would already be too late. Come on.” Burke took a couple of deep breaths. “Galen can’t keep up this pace.”
“I’m not tired,” said the chimpanzee.
Burke laughed. “The iron man over here,” he said, indicating Galen. “Oh, excuse me. Iron ape.”
“Sure,” said Virdon, joining in the moment of relaxation, “you have room to talk. Michigan’s great running back.”
“Well,” said Burke, with a mock tone of outrage, “you have to remember that that was two thousand years ago.”
Virdon laughed. For once he was able to forget their immediate situation and respond to Burke’s sarcastic wit. “Two thousand years,” he said, his eyes wide with imitation surprise, “why, that’s the prime of life.” He suddenly got very serious. “Move it! No telling how close Urko’s men are. We’d better make that forest down there before it gets dark.”
Burke sighed. “Coming, Mother,” he said. Galen wheezed a little as he trotted to catch up to his human friends, but otherwise he said nothing. Together the three began climbing as rapidly as they could down the hill, in the failing light.
The forest was pleasantly cool, the damp smell of the trees like a tonic to their drooping spirits. They slowed a little in the woods, knowing that the gorilla guards trailing them would have a difficult time tracking them on horseback in the dense growth. They came into a small clearing and stopped while Virdon looked around. It was silently agreed that Virdon was the leader, at least at this particular time, unde
r these particular conditions. The leadership often changed and rotated among the three friends, depending upon whose gifts and abilities were best suited to circumstances.
Burke looked at his blond fellow human hopefully. “Sack time?” he asked.
Virdon gave a little snort. “No way,” he said. “Now’s our chance to get clear.” He took something from his pocket and gave it close scrutiny. It was a compass, small, utilitarian, crudely made by Virdon when chance had provided the materials and the opportunity. In an ape world, such objects were disdained, even feared: the old knowledge had fallen into disuse when the apes took over the mastery of the world from its former rulers.
“We know what direction we’re going in,” said Virdon thoughtfully. “They don’t. That gives us an edge they won’t be able to make up with speed alone.”
Burke was frustrated; it was clear that he had had enough running for one day. “When there’s nothing in any direction,” he said, a note of disgust entering his usually cheerful voice, “what difference does it make?”
Galen the chimpanzee looked at Virdon curiously. One of the reasons he had decided to stay with the humans in his flight from General Urko and his soldier gorillas was the opportunity to scientifically observe Virdon and Burke, to learn from them scraps of the knowledge which was forbidden and deliberately buried in his own society. “I have seen you look at that object on several occasions,” said Galen. “I have always thought that it was another of your curious amulets. You can tell direction from that? Without being able to see the stars?”
Virdon showed the object to Galen. “It’s a compass, Galen,” he said patiently, understanding the chimpanzee’s great love of learning. “It always points north.”
The chimpanzee took the compass and experimented for a moment, turning around in the small clearing, walking short distances in several directions in turn; his expression grew more and more wondering, as he saw that the homemade compass did exactly what Virdon claimed.
“With this cloud cover,” said Virdon, “Urko’s men don’t know what direction they’re going in. They’ll go around in circles. We can go straight ahead. That’s what your superior ape world has done for you, Galen. Or so you say.”