The entire audience stood. The gorillas roared and the orangutans applauded enthusiastically. Only the chimpanzees were hesitant, yet they were reluctant to go against the grain of the rest. Though uncertain, they nevertheless stood as well.
Most of them.
* * *
Zira was furious. She refused to stand for it, figuratively or literally. When Cornelius saw that she had caught the general’s eye a second time, he begged her to do so.
Finally, she did. For herself, and Cornelius, and their unborn child. If there was one thing she knew, it was that life was too precious.
For Lucius, she thought.
* * *
“Invade, invade, invade!” the apes were roaring.
A standing ovation.
Have I lost my mind? Brent thought. Am I still in hypersleep? He didn’t dare test either theory, however.
“I’ve got to get out,” he declared. “Yeah.” His eyes darted toward the heavens, his mind centered on Liberty 2’s orbiting fusion drive. “I’ve got to get back up there. I don’t know how or with what, but I’m not staying here.” If he could make it to orbit and connect to the drive system, he could be on his way back to Earth, Taylor in tow or not.
Then he noticed something changing. The roar of the crowd diminished, and Brent heard chanting of a different sort.
“Peace is the simian way!”
“Humans have rights, too!”
He peered away from the amphitheater, where the imprisoned humans were chained. Crowds gathered to boo and hiss at them, but then they turned to look at the newcomers. A group of chimpanzees, marching and chanting. Their apparent leader approached one of the uniformed gorillas.
“Peace is the way,” it said, and it sounded like a female. “These animals mean us no harm. Can’t you see—they only want to live like we do?” The gorilla replied by producing his club. He raised it over his head, as if to bring it down on the chimp.
The crowd gasped.
The chimp winced.
The club fell—but not on her. The gorilla turned and swung at the nearest human captive, viciously knocking him to the ground where he tried to scrabble away, only to be stopped by his bindings. The ape stood over the wounded man, pummeling him until he was motionless, and his face was so much pulp.
The crowd cheered.
The other humans strained at their chains, pulling hard, to no result. The protesters rushed forward, and the gorilla guards cocked their guns. It was a standoff—no one moved for several long moments. Then the chimps seemed to realize that they were outclassed. Defeated by the threat of violence, the protesters dispersed on their own.
Thank God I’m light years from home, Brent thought, his mind whirling. I don’t know how the hell these animals speak English, but that’s where it ends. Earth will never be a goddamn monkey planet.
Anything would be better than this.
Suddenly the girl grabbed his arm and began pulling him off to one side.
Numbly, he followed.
* * *
President Gaius’s quill dipped deep into the vial of squid ink.
Ursus’s speech was good, Zaius thought. Too good. He already had the backing of the Church, and the gorillas were always going to vote in his favor. That much was understood. Any hesitancy on the orangutan side had been swiftly dealt with when Ursus brought Zaius into it. The chimpanzees had no choice but to fall in line, lest they become blacklisted.
Swayed by public support, the High Council once again met in private session, and that was that. Gaius’s pen danced across the document as he approved Ursus’s plan, giving him the position of supreme military commander. He would lead the entire gorilla army into the Forbidden Zone, looking for an unknown enemy.
It was absurd.
It was dangerous beyond comprehension, having Ursus and his army blindly bumbling around in the Forbidden Zone, ready to stumble upon who knows what deadly remnants of man’s destructive past. There was only one thing he could do, in an attempt to limit the damage.
He had to go with them.
On that, the council’s decision on the matter was swift.
“This assembly has anticipated your request, Doctor, and we agree—as Minister of Science, you must accompany our army into the Forbidden Zone,” Gaius said. “Before you depart, however, we must appoint someone to attend to your duties while you are absent.”
Zaius was taken aback. “I—”
Ursus stood, his helmet under his arm. “I nominate Reverend Sabian as provisional Minister of Science.”
“Forgive me, General”—Zaius knew he had to be both polite and fast—“but while Elder Sabian has indeed served as an excellent Chief Defender of the Faith, he has never held the office of Minister of Science. That, when added to the burden he bears as High Patriarch—”
“I am more than happy to take up the challenge, Zaius,” the elder interjected. “In regards to the position, I’ve always felt that faith was more important than science. I think I can muddle through the science parts while you are gone. That’s what I have your new deputy minister for, isn’t it?”
Cornelius. Zaius had been wise to put him in that position. He owed the Minister of Science a substantial debt.
“Of course, it’s just a temporary posting,” Sabian assured him. “Only until you return.”
“Of course,” Zaius said.
“Besides,” Sabian continued, baiting him, “wasn’t it Elder Zao’s wish for a single godly ape to maintain both esteemed positions?”
That was it—Sabian dominated the board. Zaius withdrew.
“Is there a second?” Gaius asked.
Maximus stood. “Aye.”
“Motion, ah, approved.” Gaius extended his hand to Sabian. “Welcome back to the council, High Patriarch.” Sabian accepted the offering. Bowing his head ever so slightly, he gently corrected the assembly.
“‘Minister’ will do, my fellow apes.” Stealing a glance at Ursus, the ancient ape cracked a broken smile. “Minister will do just fine.”
Ursus closed his eyes and gave a single nod in return. In the course of a single week, the retired elder had secured three of the top positions in Simia for himself. And Zaius knew he had been right—Sabian was in the general’s pocket. While the army was away, with Zaius in tow, there would be draconian changes in Ape City—of that he had no doubt. Changes that would ensure Ursus’s power base long after he returned.
Cornelius and Zira were Zaius’s only hope now.
The two chimpanzee apostates. Zaius sighed, resting his forehead on his palm, then running his hand over his head.
Lawgiver preserve us.
* * *
Groom Lake, Nevada
Area 51
1963
Taylor’s X-15 stunt hadn’t been well received. Since being released from the infirmary, his father had refused to speak with him, and he had been all but grounded.
He got his astronaut’s wings, at least.
So the major decided to use his spare time to find out what R&D were up to. His base privileges hadn’t been revoked, so he used that as an excuse to go snooping around.
Thus Taylor stepped into the base’s most restricted hangar. To say it was immense would be an understatement. Laid out before him were seven sleek prototypes, each one in a different stage of construction. These were all command capsules, awaiting whatever propulsive wizardry Hasslein might have cooked up.
As Taylor walked toward the capsules, he noticed that the two closest to him were smaller, more compact. Peering inside the first one, he saw an interior that looked more mundane than the larger ships’—it was a lot like what they were developing over at NASA. The cramped cockpit barely had room for three astronauts to sit side by side. These had to be short-range vehicles.
The rest of the craft were labeled L5 through L1. All five of them would eventually have both lander and thruster attachments, allowing them to fly like a space plane or land upright. L2—the one ship that was already equipped with her lande
r—had crane-like legs that were tucked close to her engine pods.
At the end of the bay lay the last craft—L1. On that one hinged the success of the entire program. It was the most like the Icarus. Taylor slipped into the hatch in L1’s nose and slid down the tube into the cockpit. The cabin configuration was different from what he had briefly seen of the Icarus, in Korea. The controls were more cumbersome and were equipped with buttons, switches, and levers he recognized.
Less alien, he noted. More flyable.
“Would you like to fly her?”
The voice startled him. Taylor wasn’t alone. Sitting at the ship’s navigation computer and scribbling equations in a notepad was Dr. Otto Hasslein—the man responsible for reverse engineering the technology all this was based on. Taylor had been so absorbed by the ship he hadn’t seen him.
“Excuse me?”
“This ship,” Hasslein said. “Would you like to fly her?” While he addressed Taylor, the scientist never looked up.
“I think we both know the answer to that, Doctor.”
“Knowing something is a feeling, no matter how true it may be,” Hasslein quipped without looking up from his notes. “I know there is a god and that he is good, but I cannot as of yet substantiate his existence with scientific facts.”
“Of course I want to fly her,” Taylor said. “Wouldn’t any test pilot—”
“Why are you here, Major?”
Taylor scoffed. “I have the necessary clearance. There are rumors, Doctor. I wanted to see what it was that you boys were cooking—”
Hasslein cut him off. “I mean why are you here?” He twirled his pencil around to indicate the base in general, then met Taylor’s eyes. “At Groom Lake. Attached to this project. You fought in two wars, and you have a bit of a reputation as a maverick.” The astrophysicist turned back to his notes and began scribbling again. “Why space exploration?”
Taylor thought about it for a moment.
“For the promise of a better world,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Hasslein smiled without looking up. “And what does that mean?”
“What does it sound like, Doctor?” Taylor was becoming annoyed.
“Your response was that of a politician,” Hasslein suggested. “Worthy of the admiralty, one might say.”
That was a shot at his father. Taylor was aware that the admiral always toed the line for the military—it just hadn’t occurred to him that his father’s associates could see past that, or that they would accuse him of the same attitude.
“If you think I’m only here because of my father—”
“I would never suggest such a thing,” Hasslein said, “as it would not be true.”
Taylor stopped and regarded Hasslein for a moment. The man was more than a astrophysicist—apparently he was also an amateur psychologist. The doctor had an eye for the human condition.
Taylor gave up. He sighed deeply.
“Let’s just say I’ve seen too much,” he admitted.
“That’s a better answer,” Hasslein acknowledged. “Much more human.”
“Humanity is the problem, Doc,” Taylor said. “Not the solution.”
“And so bitterness rears its ugly head.” Hasslein closed his notebook for the first time since Taylor had come aboard. “I have been observing you, Major Taylor. Your work, your temperament, your defiance, and your disdain.”
“Have you?” Taylor folded his arms across his chest.
“Indeed I have,” Hasslein assured him. “Would you like to hear my assessment?”
“Please,” Taylor lied.
“I know better than to believe you,” Hasslein said. “But I will tell you anyway.” He stood and began to pace the length of the cockpit. “You are an extraordinary pilot with a predilection toward reckless endeavors. However, your latest escapade helped us to identify flaws in not one, but three separate prototypes, something I have tried to convince the admiral was integral to our mission. He, however, sees his son as nothing but a loose cannon—perhaps even a security risk.”
“Can’t argue with that, Doctor.”
“No, I suppose not.” Hasslein paused to consider his next words. “At the risk of being presumptuous, I would like to make a recommendation—no, not that—I would like to make a suggestion.”
“Go on.”
“Perhaps it is time you used your skills to advance life, instead of risking it. If you are ready for that, we are ready to begin space trials.” He indicated the L1’s skipper’s chair beside him before adding, “And I am in need of a suitable mission commander to test our new drive system. I have the option to exercise my authority, and can choose whom that commander might be.”
Taylor cracked a grin. “Alright, Doctor.” Taylor moved over and dropped into the capsule’s command chair. “You’re the brains of the outfit. Show me how it’s done.”
* * *
Taylor slipped. The stone under his left foot gave way, and it was the lynchpin that held together the thin rocky shelf.
He tumbled in a pile of cascading dirt, some fifteen feet above the city bridge. Its otherwise polished metal surface became littered with the debris of his fall. Landing hard on his shoulder, he thought he might have dislocated it again.
Never healed right after World War II.
Unslinging his rifle, Taylor surveyed his surroundings as best he could. It had taken him a good hour and a half to make it down to the bridge, and darkness had fallen. As always, there was no moon in the ultraviolet sky, only a strange illumination that seemed to circle the planet like a ring of dim auroras.
The span was 100 feet across, with edges that were mirrored like the rest of the city. The road laid across it was another matter. A glossy gray-black surface riddled with metallic gridwork, it reminded Taylor of the photovoltaic cells on satellites ANSA had launched. If these were solar collectors, the city might be deserted and running off of batteries that simply recharged themselves with each day’s sunrise.
“The lights are on, but is anyone home?” he murmured. That’s right, Bright Eyes, keep talking. At this point, it was the only thing keeping him hinged.
The bridge was smooth, and there was no railing on either side. Lights were affixed at regular points, their red hazy glow warning of the treacherous drop that lay beyond. The span was some 2,000 feet long, while the goliath doors at the other side looked to be a good twelve feet tall. Taylor looked up at the towering structures. While the bridge was illuminated, as were the navigation lights atop the spires, the city itself was dark.
“Maybe she’s dead after all,” he mused.
Then a single light went on.
Three stories above the door.
Was this the nest of humans that Zaius so feared? If so, Taylor could understand the orangutan’s concern. Whoever built this could squash the apes beneath their heel and rule the planet without hesitation.
Unless they’re pacifists. Looking up again at the massive right angles and points, he decided against it. Too big and too many sharp edges.
A moment later he noticed a hum in the air. Not loud, but insistent. It echoed gently in the canyon, making it difficult to identify the source. It grew louder, and was coming from behind him.
He turned, and drew a sharp intake of air.
Gorillas I can handle, he thought. Another mutant animal—sure, but not this.
It was a robot, hovering about two feet above the ground, its shoulders broad, its arms ending in wicked-looking pincers. Slicing across its bulbous chromed face was a glowing crimson V. A trio of lights flashed across its chest, rhythmically pulsing from yellow to orange to a dull red and back again. It had no legs, but didn’t need them. Its torso terminated in a metallic skirt that seemed to push the robot up from the ground.
The hum was from whatever machinery kept it afloat. It bobbed gently in the desert air, waiting and, he thought, glaring at him. Without moving. For a long time. Rifle still in hand, Taylor decided to take the initiative.
“Hello,” he
said. “My name is Tay—”
Fifty thousand volts of electricity slammed into him. Taylor was thrown up and back, crashing high into the door before sliding to a crumpled heap at its base.
* * *
Brent had been shot.
As they left the hill that surrounded the amphitheater, they attracted the attention of a gorilla on guard. While the simian had heard them, he never actually saw them. When Brent and the young woman took cover in the brush, the ape drew his pistol and fired. A single shot rang out, and Brent’s arm was grazed.
He silenced his own yelp, and a bird in the bushes took flight. Satisfied he had been tracking fowl by mistake, the gorilla returned to his post.
The wound was superficial, but needed to be treated. Examining it, the young woman seemed to understand this. She took Brent by the hand and dragged him away. Not sure if he was alive or dead, Brent let the lovely angel take the lead.
* * *
Taylor awoke to find himself on his back, slipping across a polished tile floor. His right leg was caught in the grip of the robot’s left pincer—clamped so tight he couldn’t feel his foot at all. He tried wiggling his toes, only to be answered with the searing sting of a million pinpricks.
“Hey,” Taylor said, and his voice echoed. “Tin britches, where are you taking me?”
The robot’s head swiveled like an owl to regard the astronaut. Other than that, there was no response. Its formerly glowing red face was now a pale amber.
Red for danger, yellow for caution, he rationalized. Realizing that the humming in the air was louder now, he glanced behind him.
At least a dozen of the metal monsters had fallen in behind his captor. The one closest carried the prize he sought—his rifle. It, too, was being dragged, albeit by its shoulder strap. The bot was an extra arm’s length away from him, just out of reach.
Taylor tried to get his bearings, and realized that they were several stories up on a terraced corridor within the fortress. To each side, soft illumination cast twisted shadows across the high walls. Below the terrace, there was a confusing puzzle of pipes and conduits. Above him, the ceilings vaulted away. In front of him lay an arched doorway.
Death of the Planet of the Apes Page 14
