Monkey Wars

by Richard Kurti

  Dawn brought even worse news. An early morning patrol came across a grocery store that had been ransacked in the middle of the night. It clearly wasn’t the work of human thieves as money had been scattered all over the floor and ignored. This was an attack done for the joy of destruction…and to lay down a challenge.

  As soon as the alarm was raised, Tyrell hurried to the scene. He wanted to see exactly what had happened, before the humans arrived. Accompanied by General Pogo and Mico, surrounded by elite bodyguards, Tyrell picked his way through the debris with statesmanlike gravity.

  Mico was shocked by the level of wanton destruction. The shop windows had been smashed, spraying a carpet of glass over the ground; shelves had been toppled over, tins hurled across the street; the raiders had even paused to defecate on the counters.

  “Sir! You should see this,” said one of the elites.

  Tyrell, Mico and Pogo followed as the trooper led them to the back of the store, where they found a display case that once held religious trinkets. Now the front was smashed, and lying on the floor among the broken glass was the twisted body of a rhesus monkey.

  Mico recoiled at the sight. The corpse lay in a large and still-growing pool of dark blood. He edged around it to get a better look at the face; it wasn’t anyone he recognized from Temple Gardens, but that wasn’t the point. If the rhesus were going to fight back like this it would ramp up tensions between the warring troops, and any chance he had of restraining Tyrell would vanish.

  “Something wrong?”

  Mico glanced up and saw Tyrell studying him. “You seem distracted.”

  “Angry, my lord,” replied Mico, recovering his composure. “The humans look to us to stop all this. We’ve failed them.”

  “Anger’s not enough,” said Tyrell with quiet venom. “This scum is the cause of all our woes! The rhesus are trying to destroy everything we’ve built. Peace and stability mean nothing to them. They are savages!”

  He cast his eye around the wreckage, making sure every monkey present felt his indignation.

  “But they will rue the day they challenged the authority of the langur troop. Our response is coming. And it will be…uncompromising.”

  The hatred in Tyrell’s words was blistering. “The rhesus should be very afraid.”

  “Someone must know!” demanded Mico. “Who’s behind the resistance?”

  He glared at the rhesus elders crouched in the shadow of a low wall that ran along the north side of Temple Gardens. Normally Mico only passed information to Papina and Twitcher, but this was so serious he’d insisted on talking to the leaders face to face. Yet even though time and again Mico’s information had saved rhesus lives, the elders remained defiantly silent. Many of them harbored misgivings about the duplicitous role he was playing, and they were in no mood to open up.

  Mico drew a deep breath, trying to calm down; he knew confrontation would only antagonize them further.

  “I understand the hatred you feel toward the langur. But I promised to keep you ahead, and I’ve kept my word. And now I’m telling you, if you want to live in peace, these resistance attacks have to stop.”

  “When you’re attacked, you strike back,” one of the elders muttered.

  “I listen to langur opinion,” countered Mico. “I pick up what’s being said on the branch. And I know for a fact, with every attack, hatred toward the rhesus is inflamed.”

  One of the elders leaped up to confront Mico. “You’re a great one for words, but I like actions!”

  “I don’t care what you like,” Mico snapped back. “You need to be patient! If we wait for the right moment, I can soften langur policy.”

  “But I like seeing the langur suffer,” the elder said defiantly. “It’s about time someone hit back!”

  A chorus of support welled up—finally someone had said what they were all thinking.

  “I’m putting my life on the line for you!” Mico cried with sudden ferocity. “Day after day! And all I get from you is blind stupidity?!”

  Twitcher stepped between Mico and the elders, trying to calm things down. “Passions are running high—”

  “Passions are for infants!” Mico said angrily. “Passions are for brawling idiots! You have no idea about Tyrell’s coldhearted brutality.”

  “All the more reason for us not to trust you,” muttered one of the elders.

  “A trigger, that’s all he needs,” Mico warned. “And the attacks by the resistance are exactly that. If you turn this into all-out war, you’ll lose.”

  Finally he could see that his words were getting through. Except perhaps to Twitcher, who allowed a muted smile to play across his lips.

  It made Mico wonder if Twitcher was the weak link. He always gave the impression of holding something back. Perhaps he was the one who knew about the resistance, or even commanded them. Mico would have to keep a close eye on him in the future.

  “Search your souls. Ask around,” Mico said tersely. “Someone must know who’s behind the resistance. Those are the monkeys I need to talk to before it’s too late.”

  With that, he jumped down from the wall and started to make the lonely journey back.

  “Whose side are you really on?”

  Mico spun round and saw Papina emerge from the shadows.

  “I’d hoped you’d be there to back me up.” But as he moved toward Papina she backed away, gazing at him warily.

  “I heard enough,” she said.

  “All I’m trying to do is stop things spinning out of control—”

  “Are you?”

  Mico could hear the accusation in her question. “Papina, please—”

  “You talk about peace, but what have you actually done?” She looked back at the gardens, heaving with refugees. “Every day things get worse. It’s so crowded the water’s gone rank; there’s the filth and stench everywhere, and all the while the langur strut around the city, taking what they please.” She looked at him with such disappointment in her eyes. “And every day you go back to the home that was mine.”

  She said it with such a yearning sense of injustice, Mico could find no answer. His silence was confession enough. Papina turned her back on him and swung up into the trees. She didn’t even glance back, and Mico realized with a heavy sadness that he was losing her.

  —

  “Check this out,” Tyrell said as he slid a stone aside, revealing a neatly made hole in the wall of his tower room. “Now I don’t even have to leave the building to relieve myself.”

  Eager to demonstrate, he thrust his buttocks into the hole and waited. Mico saw his face tense, then relax into an easy smile.

  “Come and see,” urged Tyrell.

  Mico dutifully hurried over. They looked through the hole and saw a small pile on the grass at the bottom of the tower.

  “Every morning the cadets come and clean it up. They feel honored to do it.” Tyrell laughed and slid the stone back in place. “There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for me.”

  It was unnerving to see Tyrell in such a flippant mood. Only that morning he had been issuing dark, vengeful warnings; now it seemed as if all that had been forgotten.

  “My lord, about the resistance,” Mico ventured, trying to flush out Tyrell’s true position. “How serious a threat do you think it really is?”

  “Opportunism,” Tyrell replied casually. “The rhesus are trying to exploit Gospodar’s death. And you can’t blame them for having a go, can you?”

  What a change in the monkey. Mico wondered if this good mood could be tipped into a change of policy.

  “Perhaps if the rhesus had more living space they wouldn’t be so desperate,” he ventured. “Then the resistance would fade away.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “So, should I instruct the patrols—”

  “But I want the rhesus to be desperate,” Tyrell interrupted. “That’s the whole point.”

  Darkness clouded his face as all the good humor vanished. “I want them to goad us, prod us, flaunt their barbarous wa
ys in our faces. Then we can show them just how strong we really are.”

  Tyrell waved his hand dismissively, indicating that the audience was over.

  Mico clambered slowly down the tower steps and emerged from the gloom into the burning sunlight, but the brightness just made his own loneliness more intense. His mind was so congested with deception, his heart a tangle of conflicting loyalties, and there was not one monkey in the entire city he could talk to, not one kindred spirit to ease the burden by listening.

  He’d always known covert operations would be lonely; but he hadn’t understood until now that loneliness could be so painful.

  —

  The resistance attacks created a climate of paranoia in the langur troop, which Tyrell lost no time in exploiting, pushing through a series of initiatives, dubbed Central Command, that only a few moons previously would have been unthinkable.

  The first concerned the Great Vault. It had always been the civic heart of the troop, but now it was announced that for security reasons access to the vault would be restricted to “key personnel” only.

  When the news first broke there was much grumbling in the leafy avenues of the cemetery, so Mico, Castro and Rani were dispatched to help ordinary monkeys understand “the truth”: the Great Vault was where Tyrell and his military commanders worked tirelessly to combat the wave of rhesus violence that was sweeping across the city; for obvious reasons, it was vital that these plans were formulated in the utmost secrecy.

  The Intelligence Division pushed the message home with dogged determination and some judiciously placed fruit bribes, until the troop all agreed that the closure of the Great Vault was necessary.

  Tyrell instinctively understood the theater of leadership. One day he started rumors of a rhesus plot to assassinate him; then, having unnerved the troop, he announced new security measures, doubling his personal bodyguard and drastically cutting down his public appearances.

  While Tyrell became more elusive, his uncanny knack of appearing when least expected created the impression that he was everywhere, constantly guarding over his monkeys.

  The more power Tyrell appropriated, the more the langur loved him; they felt grateful to have a leader who was prepared to take on the weighty burden of responsibility.

  It wasn’t just Tyrell who was cloaked in the mysterious aura of power; it was everything that was close to him—as Mico found out when his old drill instructor asked for an audience.

  In Mico’s mind, Gu-Nah was a towering presence, but the monkey that entered Mico’s rooms did so with surprising humility.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Colonel Mico,” he said, bowing his head deferentially. (Colonel was a newly created rank, reserved for members of the Intelligence Division.)

  “Come in, come in! Good to see you again,” said Mico, genuinely pleased to see his old instructor.

  “I know you’re busy, so I’ll keep it short.” Gu-Nah looked anxiously at Mico. “The thing is…I’m only speaking up because I want the best for the troop. Your intelligence stood out as a cadet, sir. And that’s what we need now.”

  Mico could barely believe that this self-effacing monkey was the same one who had screamed orders at him all through basic training.

  “Make yourself comfortable. Something to eat?” Mico gestured to a pile of fruit in the corner, but Gu-Nah respectfully declined.

  “Here, take this.” Mico offered him an orange.

  “Thank you, sir.” Obediently Gu-Nah reached out to take the fruit, but at the last moment Mico pulled back. “No. This one instead.” And he switched the orange for a mango.

  Gu-Nah nodded obediently. “As you wish.” He took the fruit and ate in silence.

  Mico suddenly understood how much his world had changed. Part of him was embarrassed to see Gu-Nah squirming before him but, worse than that, part of him was amused.

  “So, how can I help?” Mico said brusquely, trying to get back to business.

  “Of course, it’s right that we have security measures, but this new Central Command, it’s…” Gu-Nah hesitated and looked at Mico, trying to judge how much dissent would be tolerated.

  “It’s…?” prompted Mico.

  “It’s my job to train the next generation of fighters. Fact is, the skills they need aren’t the skills you, or even Lord Tyrell, were taught.”

  Mico frowned. Was Gu-Nah implying that the leadership was out of touch? Dangerous territory.

  Gu-Nah quickly justified himself. “Look at the ambush your own brother got caught in. His patrol wasn’t trained for that kind of warfare.”

  “It was a cowardly attack—”

  “That patrol could’ve turned the tables. If they’d only known how. If they’d had a different type of training.”

  Mico leaned forward, his eyes locked on Gu-Nah, using a mannerism he had learned from Tyrell that never failed to subtly intimidate. “If you know how to do this, Gu-Nah, why aren’t you teaching it?”

  “That’s the problem, sir. Under the new rules I’m not allowed to change the training without permission from Lord Tyrell. Everything has to be approved from above. I’ve been asking to see him for days, but it’s impossible….” The frustration in Gu-Nah’s voice was obvious.

  “I see,” said Mico.

  “You have his ear. Everyone knows how much he trusts you. If you could explain, I’m sure he’d understand.”

  Mico said nothing; he felt his stomach knot, because Gu-Nah’s proposition had just made his life impossibly complicated.

  If he wanted to protect the langur, Mico simply had to talk to Tyrell and get the new training approved. Gu-Nah knew his stuff and would no doubt deliver more effective fighters. But better langur fighters would mean more rhesus blood on the streets, and an escalation of hatred.

  On the other hand, if he didn’t help Gu-Nah, langur patrols would carry on using outmoded tactics, suffer more defeats; and defeats meant death. Breri had had a lucky escape. How many more ambushes could he survive?

  This was a side of espionage that Mico hadn’t bargained on. He had imagined it would simply be about passing information to save lives. Now he was being forced to make a hard choice: langur blood or rhesus blood?

  Whatever Mico did next, someone was going to die.

  Trumble and Kima were delighted to have their family together again, even if it was just for a short time. Kima fussed as she piled up a fantastic mound of fruit, while Trumble took great pleasure in grooming his sons as he caught up with all the latest news. Everything had to be just right for Breri’s special day—he had chosen a mate, Bandha, and today was her introduction to the family group.

  For Mico, being back in his old home came as a welcome relief from the complications of life at the top of the troop. For one precious afternoon, he could immerse himself in the innocence of his childhood. Just the smell of the place brought back memories of a time when he didn’t have to analyze every decision.

  “She’s here! She’s here!” Kima’s excited voice called out as Breri ushered in his mate.

  Bandha was a small monkey with a pleasant, open face, but there was a steeliness about her eyes that reminded Mico of his mother.

  As they started to eat, Kima could barely contain her excitement at having a new female in the family; she had spent so much time managing the competing egos of three males that she now reached out to Bandha like a lifeline, and it wasn’t long before the two of them started to maneuver. Everyone knew how much Breri loved being in the elites and it was unthinkable that he would voluntarily step away from the sharp end of battle, but the two females had other plans.

  “He’s already been wounded twice, you know,” said Kima. “No one can say you haven’t done your duty, Breri, but perhaps it’s time to let others do their bit.”

  Bandha proudly stroked his face. “There never was a braver elite.”

  “Oh, I’m just warming up,” Breri boasted.

  “But you need to think of Bandha now,” Kima reminded him.

  “I hear ther
e are great opportunities in Central Command,” Bandha added seamlessly.

  “Exactly!” smiled Kima.

  Breri blinked, trying to take everything in. His mind turned over this new idea that he was a distinguished veteran who deserved great rewards. Both females could see him considering it; perhaps just a little help was needed.

  “What do you think, Mico? Could it be arranged?” asked Kima.

  All eyes turned to Mico.

  “Well…I could put in a word,” he said evasively.

  “There you are!” cried Kima. “Anything’s possible. If Mico says so, it’s as good as done!”

  Mico marveled at the willfulness of Kima and Bandha; in their own quiet way, they were as forceful as the roots of a banyan tree, slowly drilling into the hard earth until they had a tight grip on the soil.

  Breri puffed himself up, relishing their admiration, accepting their praise. “I suppose I do have a lot to offer,” he pronounced.

  “And with such a beautiful mate it won’t be long before there are little mouths to feed,” said Kima, unable to resist, and everyone laughed.

  Bandha turned to Mico with genuine gratitude. “Thank you. It would mean so much.”

  “It’s nothing.” Mico smiled and tucked into an orange. Despite all the family politics, there was no doubting the love these monkeys felt toward him. They needed him; they respected him. Mico looked at his mother and father; they were so proud to be nurturing their sons—it made sense of their lives.

  And then came the ugly stab of guilt—at the very time his family were looking to him to keep them safe, Mico was aiding the enemy. An enemy that didn’t even appreciate what he was trying to do. Mico’s fur bristled as he remembered the hostility and suspicion the rhesus had heaped on him at their last encounter.

  And in that instant, sitting on the floor of his old family home, Mico made up his mind—he did not want langur blood on his hands, least of all his brother’s. He had warned the rhesus to rein in their resistance. If they wouldn’t listen, that was their concern.