As Pinchus exited the craft to fetch the next component, Lykos reconnected the repaired bank of circuits that included the ship’s chronometer.
The chronometer.
Milo hypothesized that it kept track of the starplane’s time in space. He had a particular theory about time, as well. Years ago, he had imagined riding a horse in the night, carrying a torch and leading the way.
What if the horse, he postulated, could gallop fast enough to catch up to the light that was illuminating their path? As one approached the speed of that illumination, time would distend. While little time would pass for those doing the traveling, years would pass for the rest of existence. Though it was just a theory, if his hypothesis was correct this chronometer would be intended to keep track of such occurrences.
Milo adjusted the ship’s flight controls, while Lykos plugged a repaired circuit board into its slot. Soon, a hum filled the chamber. Lights on the chronometer panel blinked on. Shaking with excitement, Milo saw a display appear. It was marked “Earth Time.”
June 16 1973
There also was one designated “Ship Time.”
November 25 3978
After a flash and a jumbling of numbers, they both read the same.
January 25 3979
Then, the panel exploded in sparks.
“What have you done?” A manic Milo shoved Lykos aside. He disconnected the battery feed and pulled the bank from its component bay, examining the fried circuit boards. He was met with acrid smoke.
There was a puddle of stagnant water in the computer compartment. Worse than that, the chronometer itself was aflame.
Ruined, he anguished.
The two of them smothered the fire.
“Dr. Lykos, this is inexcusable!” he railed. “This isn’t some laboratory experiment that can simply be tried again. We get this wrong, and the opportunity of a lifetime is wasted. All of apekind—”
“Milo,” Seraph snapped. The tinkerer shut up and turned to find her in the side doorway, silhouetted in the desert sun.
Milo, she had called him. Not Dr. Milo.
“We have the chronometer from the other ship,” she reminded him. Her tone was adamant, her expression stern.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Milo sighed. “Thank you, Dr. Seraph.”
Milo turned back to his senior engineer. “Dr. Lykos, please be kind enough to fetch the replacement device. We will install it right away. Oh,” he added, “and before you do, make certain all of that moisture has been removed, and there is no more lurking out of sight.”
The chimpanzee nodded and scrambled past Seraph. She continued to stare at Milo. Though her superior, he began to wonder which one of them was really in charge.
“I know, Dr. Seraph. My reaction was deplorable. And aside from this”—he waved his hand over the uprooted technology that was scattered about the cabin—“you’re correct in your earlier assessment. We are running out of supplies, and therefore time.” What he didn’t mention was that he had yet to decipher the starbird’s launch codes.
Seraph smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. This time he did not flinch. Instead, he welcomed it. Milo needed her, and he knew it. Science had always come first. He never realized how important the relationships in his life were to him. Right now, he needed support. He needed friends. Friends with learned minds.
He put his hand on hers and nodded.
“I need you to perform a particularly important task for me.”
“And that would be?” she queried.
Milo smiled.
CHAPTER 16
THE DISPOSITION OF AFFAIRS
With the morning, Cornelius went to the human cages.
In her new position at the Office of Animal Affairs, Zira had requested two dozen human subjects for psychological research. Commissioner Maximus had only sanctioned seven, and Cornelius was looking for particularly intelligent specimens. He watched as the guards wrangled up his first five choices and placed them in the wagon.
Then he was stunned. The last two he found couldn’t be the smartest around, he surmised, because if they’d had any intelligence, they would have been long gone by now.
Brent and Nova.
It was all he could do to keep silent.
How is it that they managed to get caught so quickly?
Before he could retrieve them, however, he watched with alarm as a second wagon pulled up next to his. The army was there to take humans of its own.
“Twenty required on Number Two Range for O Company target practice,” gorilla Sergeant Duignan shouted. “Jump to it!” Immediately his soldiers bullied their way through the remaining humans, herding them out of the cages and toward their wagon. A terrified Nova clung to Brent.
At least the new arrival from outer space had been smart enough to use his tattered clothing and cover up his bandaged gunshot wound. Looking closer, he noticed that Brent’s eyes darted to and fro with alarming frequency. Cornelius wondered if all this was too much for the human.
His mind is unraveling, Cornelius reflected. He’s not cut from the same cloth as Taylor. Then Nova glanced his way and shook her companion. Realizing they had seen him, Cornelius looked away, trying not to draw the guards’ attention.
He coolly approached the gorillas. Pretending to notice the two humans for the first time, Cornelius spoke with what he hoped was authority.
“Stop a minute.”
Not accustomed to taking orders from chimpanzees, the gorillas hesitated. Cornelius took the opportunity to approach Brent and Nova, checking them for peculiarities of anatomical interest. He fingered Brent’s jawbone and cranium. Lifted Nova’s eyelid. All the while, he muttered impressive gibberish.
“Brachycephalic and prognathous,” he said. “Incipient glaucoma.” Cornelius was no medical doctor, but he knew enough to make a good show of it. And the gorillas would be too stupid to know the difference. He narrowed his eyes and twitched his nose. “We could do with these two.”
The sergeant repeated himself loudly.
“Required for human target practice on Number Two Range,” Duignan said. “Captain Odo’s orders.”
“Yes, well”—Cornelius dripped ice—“required for cranial research by order of Dr. Zaius, Minister of Science.” He turned to his own guards. “Load them up.” The soldiers were agape as Brent and Nova were pushed into Cornelius’s cart. They clearly didn’t like being told what to do, and especially by a mere chimpanzee.
Zira would be proud. The thought gave him some glee. He would have to stay here, and let his driver take the wagon—with Brent and Nova in tow—back to the complex. Once they were caged there, his wife would find them and keep them protected until he and Zira could find a way to get them loose again.
It was the best he could do for now.
Fuming, Sergeant Duignan watched the wagon retreat down the road. His guards finished packing the remaining humans into the army wagon. They still were short the number they had been ordered to retrieve, and the gorilla didn’t look happy about it.
As Cornelius went about his rounds, the sergeant signaled the wagon to head to the range. After a pause, Duignan mounted his horse and headed in the opposite direction—toward Ape City and the Animal Research Complex.
* * *
Brent and Nova were driven through the nine levels of hell. All around them bayonets stabbed at both straw and flesh-and-blood. Gorillas loaded cannons and whipped men and women for sport. Confused humans were placed on horses and sent galloping, only to be netted, tackled, trampled, and beaten.
Soldiers lined up to learn how to kill.
To the apes, men were nothing but animals. Gorilla soldiers laughed and exercised as their brethren maimed and murdered for real—all in the name of practice. Riding in the wagon cart with the other savages, Brent drank it all in. Blood beat in his ears.
He was on the brink. The night in the cages had been bad enough, but this threatened to unhinge him once and for all. Madness clawed at his brain, and as they neared the army encamp
ment on the banks of Lake Ape, the savage Brent bore its fangs. If they took him and Nova out of the wagon, he wouldn’t run.
He would kill.
Then the wagon bypassed the training grounds, and he realized exactly what had happened. Thanks to Cornelius, they were being driven to the Animal Research Complex. To Zira, and a chance to escape.
As the ghoulish scene retreated into the distance, so did the ghoul in Brent.
* * *
“So be it,” Zaius decreed. Back in Ape City after having been gone not even half a day, he joined Ursus in the human holding cells. There they located a vacant veterinary office. It was unkempt and dingy, and it was the closest thing the doctor had to an office of his own.
“You know that my scruples were dictated by caution—not by cowardice.”
“Of course,” Ursus replied. The general looked around the room. The office was open and public—any number of veterinarians could overhear them.
Tactically unsound. Ursus didn’t like it. “I recommend we discuss this further after service.” Minister Sabian was scheduled to hold a ceremony that afternoon, to bless the army and its commanding officer.
“This afternoon, then.” Zaius gathered his scrolls to leave.
“Very good, Doctor.” Ursus smiled. “Very good.” As the doctor left, an out-of-breath gorilla sergeant entered.
“General!” Duignan exclaimed.
“Sergeant,” Ursus replied. “Why are you not at your post?”
Duignan pointed to the two humans down the hall. There, Dr. Zira was examining them. The sergeant told him what had happened at the cages.
Ursus was livid.
A chimpanzee dared to override my orders?
“What chimpanzee?” he demanded.
“His name was Cornelius.”
As soon as the name fell from Duignan’s lips, Ursus knew what to do. Looking over his shoulder, he waited until Zaius was entirely out of sight.
He doesn’t need to be a part of this. The doctor’s chimpanzee collaborators needed to be put in their place. Stalking down the hall, the general approached the upstart female from behind. As he did, her conversation with the guard became clear.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve been able to study specimens of such extraordinary clinical interest.” She indicated her operating room. “Bring them inside.”
“No,” Ursus commanded, and she jumped. “No, you can’t have them.”
You think you and your husband can override a gorilla’s authority?
“They are marked for target practice.” It was a matter of fact—there was no room for debate. The female said nothing, but the general took great pleasure in the disappointment on her face.
“Take them away.”
The guard forced the two special humans down the hall.
For the second time that day, Ursus smiled.
* * *
As soon as Ursus had turned his back, Zira rushed after Brent and Nova. Outside the complex, their guard caged them in the back of a wagon destined for Number Two Range. As the gorilla finished locking the wagon door, Zira stepped forward.
“I’ll take the key,” she offered. Sick of dealing with animals, he turned it over to her before turning to address the wagon’s driver.
“To the target range!” he commanded.
Without bothering to see the cart off, the guard returned to his duties. As the driver started to leave, Zira saw her chance.
“Uh, wait, wait!” she shouted to the driver. The driver stopped the wagon and looked back at her expectantly.
“I’d better double lock the door.” Zira inserted the key and turned it around twice.
“Good luck,” she whispered.
She called to the driver, “Alright!” Headed away from the city, the wagon made its way toward the forward encampments, and the human target range.
* * *
Zaius had missed Marcus’s funeral. Chasing Taylor and the apostates into the Forbidden Zone had taken precedence, and the ceremony had been held in his absence. Marcus had been more than his security chief, however—he had been a dear friend whose loyalty was sorely missed.
Now, after his impromptu meeting with Ursus, the doctor arrived at the Marcus family home to offer his condolences in person. After a tap on the front door, the former chief’s wife appeared.
“Malia,” Zaius said. The last time he had been here, it was to deliver news of Marcus’s death. He did not know how Malia would react to his return.
“Minister,” she greeted him. “It is good to see you safe.” Swaddled in her arms was Marcus’s newest born. The only gorilla in ape history to have an orangutan name, Marcus had christened him after his friend.
“How is my namesake?” He offered baby Zaius his finger. It was readily grasped. “I see he has his father’s strength!” The elder Zaius laughed. It was a proud compliment to offer any gorilla, and Malia could not contain a smile. After a moment, her grin became a grimace.
Before Zaius could ask what was wrong, a gawky soldier in an ill-fitting uniform pushed past her. His pants sagging and his sleeves bunched in his gloves, the young ape sported a fresh leather vest. The teen hefted a duffle bag, clearly too large for his frame.
“Excuse me,” the youth said to her. Zaius didn’t recognize him until she stepped aside.
Jaffe, he noted, Marcus’s eldest son.
Noticing the orangutan elder for the first time, Jaffe’s eyes were saucers.
“Minister Zaius!” The boy saluted. “I did not realize you had come to call, sir.”
“What is this, son?” Zaius demanded.
Malia spoke for him. “Jaffe’s joined the army.”
“Nonsense,” Zaius blinked. “You’re still a boy.”
As Jaffe fumed, his mother spoke. “The Security and Defense Declaration Act grants the commander-in-chief emergency powers.” She sighed. “One of those allows him to lower the age limit, at his discretion.”
Incredulous, the doctor nodded at Jaffe. “How old—?”
“Fourteen,” the proud youngster exclaimed. “Sir!”
Zaius was stunned. Ursus was more than a warmonger. He was intent on sending children to the slaughter. No conscription service had been implemented to bolster his troops—because Ursus didn’t need one. Every able-bodied gorilla of age would be proud to serve during wartime, and now that included any boy who had ever played war.
Fourteen. Looking the gangly gorilla boy over, it was hard to accept that Jaffe was even that old. His birthday was last month, Zaius recalled. Were the child’s father alive, Zaius knew he would not approve. Marcus wanted his son to grow up to become part of the police force, or better yet, a professional hunter.
Every gorilla’s dream.
Alas, with Marcus dead, Jaffe was the ape of the house—the decision was his to make. The orangutan knew it wasn’t his place to tell the boy no.
Instead, he simply asked, “Why?”
“Forgive me, Minister,” Jaffe replied, “but you of all apes know humans are rabid animals. They steal our food!” The boy was clearly tired of articulating himself—his mother had likely questioned him for hours. “The general is going to find their nest and wipe them out.” He stood at attention, his chin held high. “He’s going to put fruit back on our tables.”
Mentally, Zaius agreed that humans were dangerous. As far as he was concerned, they deserved extermination.
Just not by children, he lamented. He looked to Malia’s eyes for permission to intervene. He was answered with sad sepia pools of resignation. Zaius understood. There will be no reasoning with the boy.
“Minister, Mother.” Jaffe excused himself. His pack slung, he headed up the street.
“Oh…” He turned and addressed them one last time. “For Father’s death”—he beat his chest—“they should all die.”
Zaius had no words. Malia stepped outside and stood beside the doctor. Together they watched the boy meet up with a group of others his age, also newly recruited to Ursus’s army. With
out taking his eyes off of Jaffe, Zaius spoke first.
“I am going into the Forbidden Zone with Ursus, Malia.” She continued to stare after her son. Zaius reached out for her hand. “I will keep an eye on the boy,” he promised.
After a moment, Malia let him take it. She squeezed before he could. Then, as Jaffe and his cohorts disappeared into the throngs of Ape City, Malia silently withdrew.
His heart heavy, Zaius headed back to work.
CHAPTER 17
THEATER OF WAR
Groom Lake, Nevada
Area 51
1966
“Code Red,” the public address system blared. “Evacuate Section A7.”
Adjacent to the big hangar and across the airfield from commissary, the entrance to the deep bunker burst open and dozens of techs in lab coats spilled out through its doors. Deep bunker A7 was where all the top secret stuff happened at Groom Lake.
Major Taylor grabbed a panicked scientist from the stampede.
“What the hell is going on, Stanton?”
With Hasslein in DC, meeting with the Department of Defense, Stanton was the one running the show here—yet he was one of the first out of the bunker when the shit hit the fan.
So much for going down with the sinking ship.
Desperate to escape the area, Stanton barely composed himself enough to reply.
“That’s restricted—”
“Answer. Me,” Taylor snarled. “Now.”
“Churchdoor,” Stanton mumbled. “We were moving a prototype.”
“…and?” Taylor demanded.
“And it dropped!” Stanton sputtered.
Disgusted, Taylor let go. As Stanton made for the airfield, Taylor turned. Stewart, Rowark, and Dodge had come up behind him. Rumors of “Churchdoor” had been all over the base, and the two astronauts had overheard Stanton’s revelation.
All were thinking the same thing.
Prototype of what?
“This is not a drill,” the PA droned. “This facility will lock down in ten seconds.” People were climbing over each other to get out of the bunker, and men were being trampled in the doorway. In ten seconds the containment doors would roll down and crush anyone still trapped there.
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