by Titan Books
Galen’s voice joined them. “What about Janor?”
Mikal was slow in replying. “I told him that I was going into the village.” There was another slightly embarrassed pause. “I had to come. This is our fight.”
There came a warning sound from above. “Shhh!” murmured Burke from his place among the leafy boughs.
Everyone froze, Burke and Galen in the tree, Virdon and Mikal on the ground. They stood poised, listening, fearful. After a moment, the heavy noises of the approaching wagon broke the fragile stillness of the sunlit forest.
“All right, that caps it,” said Virdon, grasping Mikal roughly by the arm. “Mikal, get up in the tree with Burke and Galen.”
Mikal needed no second urging. He had decided to come and aid in the fight, but beyond that noble inspiration he had formed nothing in the way of a plan. From now on, he was at the mercy of his friends; at least they seemed to have some idea of a course of action. He climbed up the tree and out of sight among the leaves and branches. Virdon stepped back to his hiding place, out of sight. There was a long moment, during which the only sounds were the lumbering noises of the cart; then the steady hoofbeats of Daku’s horse were heard. Suddenly, at the other end of the clearing, Daku appeared, on horseback as before, but this time not even cantering. He was so sure of his invincibility in this, his own realm, that he had dropped even the most rudimentary of precautions. Behind him appeared the wagon, Hosson the gorilla trooper on the wagon seat, holding the reins. Seconds passed as Daku, the wagon close on his horse’s hooves, neared the spot where Virdon and the others hid.
Virdon leapt from behind his tree trunk, catching Daku entirely by surprise. The astronaut whirled his homemade lasso around his head and then let it fly. The rope’s noose settled about the startled Daku’s head and shoulders. Virdon pulled the rope tight and the lasso grabbed Daku’s torso even more forcefully. With a single jerk, Virdon pulled the incredulous Daku from his horse.
Meanwhile, Burke and Mikal had dropped from their tree limb right on top of Hosson, knocking the driver from his perch onto the ground, where he fell stunned and unconscious.
“Need any help?” asked Burke.
“No,” said Virdon, slightly out of breath, “it looks like this one is out cold.”
Galen jumped down from the tree and climbed up onto the driver’s seat, picked up the reins and began to turn the wagon around. “We’d better hurry!” he cried.
“Right!” answered Virdon. He turned to Mikal. “You see, Mikal,” he said, “you weren’t necessary in this battle. You could only have caused yourself trouble. From now on, I hope you follow your brother’s example a little closer.”
“You won’t understand will you?” asked Mikal, eyes downcast; but his voice was filled with suppressed resentment.
“Forget it, forget it,” said Virdon. “I didn’t mean it to sound as harsh as it did. I just don’t want to see you taking unnecessary risks.”
“I’ll have to decide whether or not they’re necessary,” said Mikal.
Virdon decided to change the subject. “We’ll hide this grain in that cave you told us about. That’s the next order of business.”
Mikal only nodded, still unsatisfied with Virdon’s reactions.
“You tell the other farmers that they can reclaim their grain as soon as it’s safe,” said Virdon.
Mikal clasped Virdon’s aim. “We’ll never forget you for this!” he said gratefully.
“Forget it,” said Burke. “Saving the world is our business. We’ve decided to go into it full time.”
Virdon clapped Mikal on the shoulder. He turned to see that Burke had run after the wagon, which Galen was already driving away. The two astronauts caught up to it quickly and both leapt aboard. Galen gave the reins another jerk and the wagon lumbered slowly away, back in the direction from which it had come.
Mikal stood in place watching his friends, thinking his private and somewhat confused thoughts. He didn’t notice that, practically at his feet, the body of Daku stirred very slightly. The police lieutenant was regaining consciousness, but not yet moving noticeably. His eyes squinted as he looked after the wagon and his unknown assailants. His vision was blurry and out of focus. He could recognize nothing except the wagon, which seemed to be driven by an ape.
After a moment, Daku’s vision cleared slightly. He still had barely moved, but his head had turned so that he could get a good view of the human who stood over him. Mikal still remained in place, watching his friends as they disappeared around a curve in the forest trail. Daku’s eyes narrowed as he studied the human, one whom he recognized well enough. Then, slyly, the gorilla’s eyes closed as though he were unconscious.
* * *
“There were three humans,” cried Daku, “but the only one that I recognized was that troublemaker, Mikal. And I did recognize him. I’ve had dealings with him before.”
Daku was standing before the large wooden desk of Chief Aboro, in the latter’s headquarters office. The desk was highly polished and virtually empty of objects—a symbol of Aboro’s authority and power. He called himself ‘Lord of the Apes,’ although in truth he was only a local official. But in this part of the ape empire, it was rare indeed for any superior officer to interfere with Aboro’s supreme judgments.
Now Daku stood nervously before the desk of his chief. He knew that his story would not be received well. Nevertheless there was nothing else to do; Aboro would learn the truth, one way or another.
Aboro leaned over the bright surface of his desk, his leather uniform and the epaulets of his rank glistening in the desk’s reflection. “So,” he said, his voice deceptively soft, “two armed police guards—one of them my own trusted aide—allowed three mere humans—” (it is impossible to convey the huge amount of contempt which Aboro loaded Onto the word “humans”)—“three mere humans, unarmed humans, to overpower my apes and steal a wagonload of my personal grain. Is that correct? Do I have the story principally as it happened, Lieutenant Daku?”
Aboro’s voice grew gradually louder from the soft beginning, until at the finish he was virtually shouting, his words angry and voice deep with hatred. Daku shook nervously. He knew that he was in the gravest trouble of his career. His entire future depended on what happened in the next few moments.
“Exactly, sir,” said Daku weakly.
“A wagonload that would have brought me ten kilos of gold!”
Daku shrugged, trying to appear calm. “I have explained, Chief Aboro, they surprised us—”
“Surprised?” cried Aboro, half-rising from his seat, his fists clenched, his face knotted with fury. “My first instinct is to have you taken out and shot! But that won’t get me back my grain.”
“No, sir,” said Daku, thinking about his potential execution and not thinking about Aboro’s grain at all. “Nor will that, however satisfying it might personally be for you, take care of your ‘payments’ in Central City this month,” continued Lieutenant Daku after a, moment’s hesitation. His inspiration might just save his life, after all. To Aboro, the ten kilos of gold was the important factor. Daku had made his point. He only hoped that Chief Aboro would agree.
Aboro frowned reflectively. “If the grain is not recovered,” he said slowly, “and if the outrageous theft is not punished, the humans may very well refuse to make any further contributions to me.”
“Rest assured,” said Daku, calm now that the idea of his execution seemed to have been put at least temporarily to rest. “I will deal with Mikal myself. Quickly and harshly.”
Aboro shook his head. Once again, his voice was fearsomely quiet. “I will take charge of this,” he said.
Daku’s mood changed instantly. He became immediately silent and respectful. “By all means…” he said lamely.
“Mikal will be made an example of,” said Aboro fiercely. “But not before he has told us where he and his companions have taken my grain!”
* * *
The next day, under a bright sky and a warm sun, five uniforme
d gorilla soldiers rode at breakneck speed along a broad, rutted road through the rolling countryside: Police Chief Aboro, the self-styled ‘Lord of the Apes’; his lieutenant, Daku; and three armed gorilla soldiers. Aboro led the way, his expression one of mixed expectation and hatred. The gorillas did not speak and they did not stop to rest their mounts. They rode as though the fate of their careers rested on the outcome of their mission. For the soldiers and for Daku, at least, this was painfully true.
* * *
There was a hidden cave; Mikal had mapped its location for Virdon, Burke, and Galen. The wagon which the three fugitives had stolen from the apes was backed up to the cave mouth as close as possible. Galen, Virdon, and Burke were working desperately to unload the sacks of grain quickly. Their main desire was to remove all sources of evidence as soon as they could. Finally, after a great deal of work and sweat, the last sacks were handed down from one of the three to the others, and deposited inside the cave. The three friends at last were able to straighten up and relax from their arduous task.
“That’s a relief,” said Burke.
“I’m glad that’s all over,” said Galen.
“It isn’t all over,” said Virdon simply.
“Have you noticed,” said Burke to the chimpanzee, “that when Alan is in charge, the job usually takes three times as long to finish?”
“I’ve noticed that,” said Galen. “I assumed that was another strange, inexplicable human trait.”
“You may also have noticed,” said Virdon with some humor, “that when I’m in charge the job finishes up in better condition.”
“No,” said Burke, “I hadn’t noticed that.”
“I have nothing to add,” said Galen.
“All right, knock it off,” said Virdon. “Let’s hide the entrance.”
All three began dragging branches and limbs, many heavy with leaves, toward the cave mouth. They were preparing to disguise the cave completely from view. Before this job could be completed, however, Pete Burke interrupted. “Hey, Alan,” he said curiously.
Virdon looked over at his friend with a puzzled expression.
“We’ve been here before,” said Burke. “About a thousand or two years ago, to be exact. I’m losing track. I mean, it looked a little different then, but…” He stopped, stood up straight, looked around the scene, then nodded his head in a definite manner. “See anything familiar about that mountain?” he asked.
He-pointed toward a distant, pointed, oddly shaped hill. Virdon and Galen followed his gaze.
Virdon thought for a moment. “It does look familiar, I suppose,” he said, “but—”
“No ‘buts,’ pal. That’s Jennings’ Nose!”
“That is what?” asked Galen, completely confused and left out of his friends’ conversation. “I beg your pardon, Pete?”
“Edwards Air Force Base,” said Burke. “And our C.O. was a Major Jennings, and he had a nose on him you could hang laundry on!”
Virdon laughed. “One of the cadets named that hill after him, in honor of the similarity.”
“Which,” said Galen sourly, “I would imagine, your superior officer found less than amusing.”
“True, true,” said Burke. “Commanding officers haven’t changed much in the last few centuries. It’s a good thing that Jennings never found out whose idea it was.”
Burke’s smile vanished as Virdon chucked a small stone at him. Their merriment lasted a few seconds longer, but ended in a mutual sigh.
“Brings back memories, doesn’t it, Alan?” asked Burke.
“Yeah,” said Virdon, suddenly businesslike again. “Too many things do. Let’s finish up.” They turned back to their chore of camouflaging the cave mouth.
While Virdon, Burke, and Galen were having their short rest period, Aboro and his men were pounding toward them along the road.
At the very same moment, some distance away, Mikal and Janor were hard at work also, tending to chores inside their barn. Janor was mending the handle of the crude hand plow used on the farm; Mikal stood alongside him.
“I know I should have told you, Janor,” said Mikal with a guilty expression, though his voice was ever so slightly defiant, “but it turned out all right. You should have seen the other farmers. If they could vote, they’d elect Virdon and Burke prefects!”
“Dead prefects, if the apes have anything to say about it,” said Janor unhappily. “Are you sure the gorillas didn’t see you? You’re sure?”
“Positive!” said Mikal. “There were only the two of them and they were both out cold.”
Mikal’s words were cut short by the sudden sound of hoofbeats approaching. The noise drew the attention of the brothers. They exchanged looks of apprehension; the horses sounded as if they were in the farmyard.
Janor and Mikal ran from the barn, but stopped short. There, before them, were five mounted gorillas, all with rifles drawn and pointed at them. There was nothing either human could do. Never before had either man felt so close to death. Aboro and his crew, swept down on them, their rifles never wavering.
As Aboro and Daku reined up, the two humans stiffened. It was their only sensible response. They stood their ground. The three gorilla troopers dismounted, covering Mikal and Janor with their rifles.
“Aboro?” said Janor with great respect. “What do you want here? Your troops already have all our grain. Ask your lieutenant, Daku.”
“That is the grab which you took back and have hidden somewhere,” said Aboro in a sinister voice.
There was a curt gesture from Daku, and a gorilla trooper moved into the barn.
“There’s nothing in there!” cried Mikal.
“We’ll find it,” said Aboro coolly.
“And how we find it is up to you,” said Daku in a threatening manner. The vicious gorilla officer gestured again, and a second trooper dismounted, hurried up behind Mikal, seized the bewildered man’s arm, and twisted it up painfully behind his back. Mikal gave an involuntary cry of pain.
“Talk!” shouted Aboro, his expression calm and confident, a complete contrast from the near-crazed face of Daku. “Who were the other humans who helped you in the grain theft? I’ll have the truth, one way or the other!”
Mikal remained silent. It would take more than a twisted arm to make him reveal the names of the other farmers who had had their stolen grain returned. The gorilla twisted Mikal’s arm further. Mikal grimaced, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Still he said nothing.
“This goes beyond stubbornness,” said Daku with disgust. “This is the kind of stupidity we have come to expect from humans. It would be so easy for this creature to spare himself—”
Daku was cut off by a wave from Aboro. The police chief was not interested at all in his lieutenant’s speculations. “He will talk. Then he will be shot.” There were a few seconds of sickening tension. “Take him,” said Aboro without raising his voice further. “In fact, take both of them.”
For the first time, Janor reacted to what was happening in his farmyard. He didn’t believe that active resistance could be of any benefit—and against five armed gorillas, he was probably correct. But now things had taken an unexpected and drastic turn. He leapt for the gorilla who was holding Mikal; with one sharp swing of his arm, Janor had knocked the burly beast to the ground. “Run, Mikal!” cried his brother.
Mikal took one quick look at the situation and knew that it had become desperate. He had no idea what to do, and his brother’s words activated him. He began running toward the woods. The gorilla whom Janor had flung to the ground rose to one knee, aiming his rifle at Janor. Quickly, the farmer kicked out, just as the trooper was about to fire. The barrel of the rifle jerked away, as the shot fired. The noise of the explosion in the quiet country yard startled both Aboro’s and Daku’s horses, which began to rear. The two ape leaders had all they could do to bring their beasts back under control. Janor swung his huge fist again and hit the trooper on the jaw, then grabbed the rifle. With one mighty clout, Janor brought the rifle’s stoc
k down on the side of the trooper’s head. He flung the rifle aside and, like his brother, began running for the woods.
The sound of the shot and the subsequent fighting had aroused the curiosity of the trooper who had been dispatched to search the barn. He came running out and spotted Janor sprinting for the woods, one of his comrades lying injured on the ground, and his two leaders still having difficulty managing their horses. Without waiting for orders, the trooper took his rifle and aimed at the back of the fleeing Janor. He fired one shot, then another. Janor appeared to be hit by the second; he crumpled to the ground, where he lay motionless.
Mikal, meanwhile, had been aware of all the battle sounds behind him. The sound of the shots, however, made him stop his headlong flight and look back toward their farmyard. His expression changed to horror as he realized that his brother had been hit. “Janor!” he cried.
Aboro had finally quieted his horse, which stood placidly beside the body of the fallen gorilla trooper. Calmly, almost without emotion, Aboro drew his pistol from its holster, raised it, aimed, and fired.
The shot split the silence that had reformed over the countryside. Mikal heard it at the same moment that he felt a horrible pain. He spun around as though he were a puppet jerked on a string. He fell dead, shot cleanly through the chest. Aboro’s expression did not change. He slowly returned his pistol to his holster, giving some though to the old maxim that said if you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself. Nevertheless, the circumstances here at the human’s farm were an empty victory for the proud gorilla who called himself ‘Lord of the Apes.’ There were apparently two more humans eliminated, but the precious grain that Aboro desired had not been found. There was little more to be done. Aboro kicked his horse and started it walking toward the road. He glanced back over his shoulder to his subordinates. “Burn this farm to the ground. That and the death of these two criminals might teach the other humans.”
Daku, on his steadied horse, watched as the two troopers lifted the unconscious body of the third gorilla soldier to his horse. Janor and Mikal lay where they had fallen. All else was stillness. The late summer noises of the woods and the farmland returned to lend a false note of peace to the scene.