Planet of the Apes Omnibus 3

by Titan Books

  * * *

  About a third of a mile from the finish line on the rural road, there was a rugged and rocky stretch. There was a jump across the race course, a kind of fence across the track, partly covered with foliage. Several gorillas, led by Urko, were making a tangle of vines just beyond the jump, where the horses in the race would land as they came over the fence. Urko supervised the operation, and he was a difficult taskmaster.

  “Tangle them up,” he cried. “Leave the way open at the side, though. Kagan will be told to ride my horse across there, where he will be clear of the vines. The human will be stupid enough to jump across the middle. I want to be certain that he falls.” The gorilla general walked closer, inspecting the work. “More vines here!” he shouted angrily. “Make the tangle thicker!” Gorillas hurried to comply with his orders. Urko stood by impatiently, ordering his soldiers about viciously. After a while, the trap had been set to his satisfaction. Even then, Urko did not smile.

  * * *

  Near the grandstand, Galen was perched on a stump, fashioning something from a piece of wood, according to Burke’s instructions. Burke came to the hole he had dug; he was carrying two large, heavy pails of water. He dumped the water into the hole, which was about half full. He put the pails down and took a deep, exhausted breath.

  “Sometimes I question your judgment,” said Galen. “First you had me make a spool with notches in it. Now I’m doing this. I’d think more direct action was called for.”

  “That’s the difference between humans from my time and apes from this time,” said Burke. “You apes have a lot of power, but you’re not subtle. Maybe that comes from being bigger and stronger than humans. You think the solution to every problem comes in bashing someone over the head.”

  “It worked, didn’t it?” asked Galen. Burke was silent. The chimpanzee wondered what the human was thinking.

  “It worked,” said Burke at last. His tone was sad and lonely. “I don’t know why.”

  “I don’t, either,” said Galen. “But I think that it could help us here. Force, I mean.”

  “What are you complaining about?” asked the human. “I’m the one who’s doing all the hard work.”

  Galen realized that Burke was under a great strain, and the ape was wise enough not to allow the situation to degenerate into a quarrel. That was the last thing in the world that they needed at this point. He busied himself with the little object he was carving. With a few more cuts, the block of wood began taking on a definite shape; Galen was making a fake scorpion.

  * * *

  In Martin’s smithy, work had gone on until Virdon was satisfied with the strange, light shoes. Martin’s face was blackened with soot, and sweat had run down, making little vertical stripes. He was now hammering the shoes to Woda’s hooves. Virdon watched while Martin worked; finally, the blacksmith drove the last nail and stepped back.

  “That’s fine, Martin,” said Virdon. “With those shoes, Woda will go like the wind and still have his hooves protected from the rocks along the race course. His legs won’t tire as quickly as Urko’s horse, because Woda won’t have to lift as much weight with every step.”

  Martin looked at Virdon with a mixture of hope and worry. “I still don’t see how you hope to beat Urko,” he said. “His horses never lose.”

  Virdon put a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “I can understand how you feel, Martin,” he said. “You have every reason to be worried. I’m sorry that you’ve had to be put through this trouble; some of it we brought on you ourselves. But we’re doing everything we can to overcome it, and we heed your help. We’ll do all right as long as you don’t give up hope.”

  “Even if you do win,” said Martin, “what’s to keep Urko from killing you for daring to ride a horse?”

  Virdon straightened the reins over Woda’s head; the horse shied a little, and Virdon calmed the animal. “We don’t intend to rely on his generosity or love for humans,” he said, preparing to mount the horse. “I’m not about to ride up to Urko and see whether or not he shoots me. I know him too well for that. We have one or two tricks of our own up our sleeves.”

  “I know you are trying to help Greger,” said Martin, “but if you trick Urko, surely my son will pay.”

  Virdon looked into Martin’s eyes. The blacksmith was fearing for the life of his son, and a thousand doubts ran through his mind. Virdon sympathized; in the same situation, the astronaut knew that he, too, would question every plan that was devised. There was nothing that could satisfy Martin except a complete victory. “If all goes well,” said Virdon soothingly, “we’ll bail out your son and I’ll be in the clear, too. Remember, Martin, that I’m staking my life on this.” Virdon vaulted to Woda’s back. There was no saddle, in another attempt to reduce the weight the horse had to carry.

  “I am supposed to take Urko’s horses to him,” said Martin thoughtfully. “I could ask him if he would let me take Greger’s place. Then you wouldn’t be in danger, and neither would Greger.”

  “No, Martin,” said Virdon. “That’s a generous thought, but it wouldn’t work. Urko doesn’t make that kind of deal. Greger’s only chance is my winning the race. And, more and more, I think I can.”

  “I pray that you’re right,” said Martin.

  Virdon gave Martin a reassuring wave and rode Woda slowly out of the smithy. Martin was still deeply concerned about the safety of his son and of Virdon. After a few moments of thought, Martin went to the corral gate, taking off his blacksmith’s apron as he walked. He hung it up on the gate, which he opened. Then he began to round up several of the horses inside.

  In the woods outside of town, near the arroyo, where Zandar and his gorillas had made camp, Urko and several uniformed gorillas were passing the time by hurling lances at a square target on a tree. It was a game of darts for giants, and these massive apes qualified for that title. Among the gorillas playing were Zandar and Zilo.

  “All right, Zandar,” said Urko. “If you don’t do better this time, I’ll find someone else to run my errands.”

  Zandar only grunted in reply. He picked a lance, aimed briefly, took a few steps, and threw. The lance hit the target with a chunking sound. “Almost dead center,” said Zandar proudly. “Do better than that, if you can.”

  “Would you like to make a bet?” asked Urko.

  Zandar suddenly lost the enthusiasm he had gathered when he saw how good his throw had been. He knew what happened to apes who bet against Urko. “No,” he said. “Your temper will be bad enough if I beat you at lances. If you lost a bet along with it, well…” Zandar’s voice trailed off. There was no need to finish the sentence.

  “Don’t worry,” said Urko. “I won’t lose.” Casually, almost without looking, Urko flung his lance. It hit the tree and vibrated. The point of the lance rested just inside Zandar’s, closer to the center. There were murmurs of praise from the gorillas who watched the contest. One of the gorillas took the opportunity to approach Urko. “Did you fix the tree on the back road, Moro?” asked the general.

  “Yes, Urko,” said Moro. “Just as in the last race. The branch will probably knock the human off Barlow’s horse when I let it swing back.”

  “Good,” said Urko. “Zilo!”

  Zilo stepped forward. “Yes, Urko?” asked the patrol gorilla.

  “When the race starts, you will be in place,” said Urko. “I don’t want you hurrying there in full view of the spectators.”

  “Yes, Urko,” said Zilo. “How far from the finish line should I stand?”

  “About fifty yards,” said Urko. “Close enough to see well, far enough not to be noticed.”

  “Urko,” said one of the other gorillas, “the human has arrived with your horses.”

  Urko turned and saw Martin tethering several horses nearby. Urko smiled to himself. He enjoyed startling humans almost more than anything else. He turned back to Zilo and raised his voice, to be sure that Martin heard. “If the human is leading when he passes you,” said Urko, “shoot and kill him.”


  Martin reacted with horror; there was nothing, for him to do, nothing to say. Urko enjoyed Martin’s anxiety.

  “Of course,” answered Zilo.

  Martin’s expression of fear deepened as the implications of Urko’s scheme hit him. Virdon would be killed; but that meant the same for Greger. Martin finished tethering the horses, almost in a daze. Like a man sleepwalking, the blacksmith moved toward Urko.

  The gorilla general and his soldiers had almost resumed their game of lances. “Since the human will be riding a horse, against your laws,” said Zilo, “shall I shoot him even if he loses the race?”

  Urko thought for a moment. “Zaius has given permission—foolishly—for the thing. Perhaps it’s not important enough to kill the human if he loses. We do have the other young human, and he’ll serve as an example.”

  Zandar, standing near, looked past the crowd of gorillas. “The blacksmith,” he said.

  “What about him?” asked Urko. “Has he finished his work?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Zandar.

  Urko looked up, knowing precisely what his words had done to Martin. The gorilla relished the scene which he knew would be played out next.

  Martin stood before Urko, his eyes cast down to the forest floor. He waited for Urko to recognize him.

  “What is it?” asked Urko in his deepest rumble.

  Martin was paralyzed for a moment. He only looked up humbly. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t. Urko restrained himself; an evil smile almost broke across his face, but he maintained his stem expression. He eyed Martin suspiciously, pretending that he was unaware that the man was the father of the “young human.” “What do you want, old man?” he asked in an irritable tone.

  Martin was suddenly aware of the rash thing he had done. A human being never approached an ape for any kind of favor. And even an ape would think twice about approaching Urko. For a fleeting second, Martin considered running, fleeing the forest and the humiliating, painful circumstances. But there was nowhere to go. “Excuse me,” he said in a low voice. “I am Martin. I have shod your horses for many years.”

  Urko knew all of this very well. He knew that Martin was one of the best, most skilled blacksmiths in the entire territory. But still Urko played his game of not recalling the human. ‘I asked you once, human,” said the gorilla, “what do you want? If I have to ask you again, you’ll find yourself tied to a tree as a target in our lance game.” The other gorillas laughed at this weak display of humor.

  “Please,” said Martin in an agonized voice, “I can be of help to you. I have also shod the horse that Barlow will race against you.” This made Urko frown; the news was more interesting than what the gorilla had expected. There was a tense hush in the forest, while Urko waited for Martin to continue. “I know how to make sure you win,” he said.

  Urko gave Martin another scrutiny; this time, the suspicion in the gorilla’s eyes was genuine. “Is there any doubt about my horse winning?” he asked. “I didn’t have any doubt, until now. Tell me what you know.”

  Martin had reached a crisis. It was the most important moment in his life, and he knew it. He suddenly realized, though, what he was doing—he was standing in the forest, far from any friendly help, offering to betray a fellow human to their mutual enemy. But, Martin thought, it was a course he was forced to choose. Greger’s life was at stake.

  Urko had grown impatient. “Speak, human,” he roared.

  “Barlow’s horse,”” said Martin, almost stammering in his fear and anguish, “Woda. It’s a very fast horse. But I can fix his shoes with wedges under them that will pain him and slow him down. I know right where to put them. It would not be discovered until it was too late.”

  “That is very ingenious,” said Urko. “I wonder why you have never suggested it to me in all those years you claim to have shod my horses.”

  “In those years,” said Martin feebly, “you never seemed to need help. Barlow never had a horse as good as this.”

  Urko only grunted.

  “Then you wouldn’t have to worry about killing the rider,” said Martin, hurrying on with his plea.

  Urko spoke slowly. “Why do you want to help me,” he asked in a contemptuous voice, “against Barlow, who pampers humans?”

  Martin tried to speak and found that his mouth and throat were so dry that the words would not leave. He gulped a breath and tried again. “It’s for my son, Greger,” he said. He thought for a moment that he should leave it at that, but then realized that Urko might not know who Greger was. “He is the one who has been sentenced to die for riding a horse,” he said in a hopeless rush of words.

  Urko grunted once more. He knew perfectly well who Greger was.

  Martin almost fell to his knees. Instead, he lowered his head again. Speaking softly, almost inaudibly, he continued his plea. “I beg you,” he said, as tears formed in his eyes, “he’s young, headstrong, he didn’t think. Let him go and I promise you he’ll never ride a horse again.” Martin paused; he realized that Urko didn’t care whether Greger ever rode a horse again. His entreaty would have to promise something for Urko’s benefit. “I will help you win,” said Martin. “Greger will be safe, and so will the man who is Barlow’s jockey.”

  Urko appeared to consider the offer. In reality, he was enjoying Martin’s dilemma. He watched cruelly as his silence made Martin even more uncomfortable. Finally, Urko spoke: “Say nothing of this to anyone,” he said casually. “If my horse wins, your son will go free.”

  Martin was almost as dumbfounded by this unexpected piece of good fortune as he was by the bad news he had heard before. He didn’t know how to react. He just stood and stared at Urko.

  “You will remember that you promised to help me win this race,” said Urko. “Something about wedges under Barlow’s horse’s shoes. I don’t care about the details. But you ought to get to work. There isn’t much time.”

  Martin backed away from Urko, nodding and crying. “Thank you!” murmured the blacksmith. “Thank you!”

  Urko watched Martin go, a look of scorn on the ape’s face. When Martin was out of earshot, Urko gestured to Zandar. The gorilla came nearer his general. “As soon as the race starts,” said Urko, “release the human from the stocks.”

  “At the start?” asked Zandar. “What if the blacksmith is lying?”

  “What is done to a human who tried to escape from the stocks?” asked Urko with a smile of false innocence.

  “But if I release him,” said Zandar, confused. Then, suddenly, realization hit him. “Oh!” he said. “Who will know I released him?”

  “When a human rides a horse,” said Urko harshly, “he must die!”

  “You said the human on Barlow’s horse would be free if he loses,” said Zandar.

  “I think I was wrong,” said Urko. “I’ll settle the matter with Zaius later. In the meantime, if the human is winning, we’ll kill him before he crosses the finish line. If he loses, we’ll kill him afterward. It’s only a question of when.” Urko thought about the neat plan, and a rare smile of pleasure creased his hideous face.

  8

  In Venta, the carnival atmosphere had almost reached its climax. Apes and people mixed together in a large crowd; for one day out of the year, humans were tolerated—although grudgingly, and only at the order of Barlow. Emancipated for a few hours, the slaves made an elaborate festival out of the day of the race. The apes enjoyed watching the humans, and it all worked out rather well. Both apes and humans made their way toward the grandstand, where they could watch the start and finish of the race. There were banners, humans doing tumbling, acts, apes playing drums and pipes. Everyone in the village had forgotten the worries of the usual daily routines.

  Everyone, that is, except Greger, who still languished in the town’s stocks, watched over by a uniformed and armed gorilla guard. The ape stared at Greger in annoyance. After a while, when everyone else had gone to watch the race, the guard and Greger were alone. The street was otherwise deserted. “If Urko was only willing to get rid
of you before the race,” muttered the guard, “I’d get to see the horses run.”

  “I’m sorry I’m causing you so much inconvenience,” said Greger in surly tones.

  A lone figure appeared down the street. The gorilla did not reply to Greger; he watched the figure instead, his rifle held at the ready. His weak eyes saw that it was another ape. The gorilla relaxed his guard a little. The ape was Galen. The young chimpanzee hurried up to the gorilla. He paused and spoke. “Excuse me,” said Galen, “but has the race started yet?”

  “No,” said the guard.

  “Good,” said Galen, “thank you.” The ape started off toward the grandstand, then, as though a thought had just struck him, he stopped and turned back to the guard. “Perhaps you could tell me if I’d have time to eat my lunch before the start,” he said innocently.

  “You better eat fast,” said the gorilla.

  Galen thought to himself that the gorillas really weren’t the most clever of the apes in the world. Their conversation was somewhat limited. “Well,” said Galen, “in that case, perhaps I’d better not. I’d hate to miss the beginning of the race for the sake of some old vegetables. I could just as well eat after the race. Or even during—”

  “Why don’t you move along,” said the guard. “You’ll miss the whole thing, standing here debating with yourself.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Galen. “Thank you.” He started toward the grandstand again. Once more he stopped and turned back. “I can understand why that human isn’t watching in the stands,” he said. “But you—?”

  “Guard duty,” said the gorilla.

  “I see,” said Galen. The guard said nothing.

  Galen stood for a moment as though studying Greger; the human boy had made no sign that he recognized Galen. For a few seconds, Galen wondered if he did. Then he said, “Can the human get out of that thing?”

  The guard looked scornful. “Not unless it’s unlocked, of course. And I’ve got the key.”