Planet of the Apes 03 - Journey into Terror

by George Alec Effinger

  One of Barlow’s handlers walked by, leading a horse to a watering trough. Galen stepped forward from his hiding place and spoke to the human. “You,” he said imperiously. “Do you know who Urko is?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the handler. “Of course.”

  “I just saw him,” said Galen. “Does he come to this town often?”

  “No, sir. Only for something important. Like the big race.”

  Virdon had been listening, and the man’s words made him more and more unhappy; with a sinking feeling he asked, “You mean the race with Barlow’s horse?”

  The handler smiled. “Is there any other race?”

  Galen dismissed the handler, who led the horse on down the street.

  “That Barlow’s cute,” said Burke. “He won’t interfere in any way with our departure from Venta. He won’t have to. Urko will take care of that!”

  “I thought he was our friend,” said Virdon.

  “His friend,” said Burke, pointing to Galen.

  “We could leave now,” said Galen.

  “What about Greger?” asked Virdon.

  “I said we could,” said Galen. “I didn’t say we should.”

  “Boy,” said Burke, hitting his head with the palm of one hand, “are we ever boxed in! If Alan doesn’t ride, Greger gets shot. Welcome to Venta and have a happy day!”

  SEVEN

  Barlow’s stomach was bothering him. He had eaten a much smaller breakfast than usual, allowing Dath to finish the fruits and nuts that the prefect was unable to eat. Still, Barlow felt faintly sick. The feeling didn’t improve any when Barlow went to his window and saw that Urko and his company had arrived, had taken rooms for their stay, and were walking toward the office of the prefect. Barlow stood by the window, almost hypnotized by the sight of the powerful gorilla swaggering along the street toward him. After a moment, Barlow shook off the effect and sat down at his desk, his face creased with a frown of deep concern. This was the day of the race, and everything about it made Barlow even more miserable.

  The prefect of the village of Venta sat and waited for Urko. Barlow folded his hands, intending to stay in that position until Urko arrived. He did not move as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps outside. There was no knock on the door; it just opened, and Urko entered. The gorilla came into Barlow’s inner office and stood, staring, for a moment. Then he spoke, “What’s this I hear?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” asked Barlow, still sitting, still holding his hands folded in front of him.

  Urko almost snarled. “You know exactly what I mean,” he said. “Are you seriously thinking of using a human jockey in the race?”

  “Ah,” said Barlow. “Permission has already been granted by Zaius.”

  “We are a good distance from Zaius,” said Urko, more mildly. “And permission has not been granted by me. What would you do if I said your human could not ride?”

  Barlow stared; his upper lip was beaded with perspiration. “I would find another jockey,” said the prefect.

  Urko laughed. “Of course,” he said. “And afterward you’d complain to Zaius. But that wouldn’t do you any good. What could Zaius do to me? You’re a bigger fool than I thought, Barlow. What chance will a human have against my rider? All Zaius has done is give you enough rope to hang yourself.”

  “We’ll see,” answered Barlow tightly.

  “Who is this human who’s crazy enough to ride against one of Urko’s apes?” asked the general.

  Barlow shrugged. “What difference does it make?” he asked. “He’s just a human.”

  Urko nodded. He looked around the room thoughtfully. “Has he ever ridden a horse before?” he asked in a casual manner.

  There was a slight pause. “Yes,” said Barlow. “He’s quite good.”

  Urko gave the prefect a cruel smile. Barlow had walked right into Urko’s trap. “Then you won’t object if we raise the stakes a little, will you?”

  Barlow perspired even more freely. His hands were still folded in front of him. His mind raced. He didn’t see how he could avoid Urko’s crafty maneuver. Barlow had already admitted that the human had ridden a horse, in defiance of Urko’s own dictates. Barlow tried to stall, but he realized that would do no good. Finally, unhappily, he said, “How much?”

  “All your horses,” said Urko harshly. “If you lose, all your horses. And all your lands.”

  Barlow was stunned for a moment by the magnitude of what Urko was saying. If Barlow agreed, and lost, he would be reduced to the level of a propertyless human, without anything in the world but his personal freedom and his reputation as an honest ape. The idea of losing everything appalled Barlow, but there was no way to get out of it. “And if I win?” he said tensely.

  Urko laughed at the very thought. Barlow and his human jockey, beating Urko’s fastest horse, his most experienced rider? The foolishness of the idea made Urko expansive. He wondered what Barlow might be thinking, what greedy visions might be passing through that simple, country ape mind. “What would you like?” asked the general, prepared to be generous.

  Barlow had reached the point in the negotiations which he both feared and longed for. This was the reason for the bargaining with Virdon and Galen. This was the reason that he was prepared to risk all that he owned in the world. He dreaded speaking, for fear that Urko would deny him. He summoned up the courage. “Transfer me back to Cela,” he said, swallowing hard.

  Urko laughed out loud again. Barlow had proven himself to be even simpler than Urko had estimated. With the opportunity to name great sums of money and property, the prefect would settle for such a trivial stake? It seemed outrageous to Urko. It seemed almost as though the prefect had spent too much time in the company of humans. “Certainly,” said Urko. “If that’s what you want.” The gorilla turned his back on Barlow and walked to the door. Barlow watched him go, grateful that the interview was over; the prefect unfolded his hands, which were damp with sweat. Urko, shaking his massive, shaggy head, opened the door and disappeared outside. Barlow swallowed again. He had made a gamble so desperate that he didn’t even want to think about it. He just wanted the race to be over.

  In a field not far from Barlow’s house, Virdon was putting Woda though some jumps and stretch runs, in training for the race. Barlow walked toward the man and horse, along with Galen and Burke. “Beautiful!” cried Barlow. “Beautiful! We’re going to win!” The prefect paused a moment. “At least,” he said, “I hope we are.”

  “You’re going to win,” said Burke sourly. “That was some deal you made with us. The world hasn’t changed at all. Sometimes I have hope. I meet people, even apes, who are better than people I used to know. It’s Alan who wants to get back so desperately. I wouldn’t half mind settling down here. But then I always end up finding out that every dream has a lead lining. Barlow, this time, you’re it. When Urko spots Alan on your horse, he’ll kill him. And me and Galen, too.”

  Galen was equally as upset. He complained bitterly to the prefect. “I don’t understand you,” he said. “Don’t you feel the least bit guilty about the way you tricked us?”

  “Of course I do,” said Barlow. “Absolutely.”

  “Well,” said Burke, “I’m glad to hear it. What a big help.”

  “What could I do?” said Barlow in a whining voice. “I was forced into the race. My future depends upon winning it. Besides, I didn’t know for certain that Urko was coming.”

  “Just like I don’t know for certain that my head won’t fall off,” said Burke.

  “I used to boast about honor among apes,” said Galen sadly. “You’ve disgraced our race in front of Alan and Pete.”

  “That’s all right, Galen,” said Burke. “I’ve met humans like him, too.”

  “That’s the problem,” said Galen.

  “Speaking of honor,” said Barlow timidly, “I don’t like to spread gossip, but I feel I should warn you. I’ve heard rumors that Urko’s horse doesn’t always win by fair means. A friend in Regego told me that Urko reso
rts to cheating, even if he’s clearly ahead.”

  “Why is it that the news doesn’t surprise me?” asked Burke of no one in particular.

  “Was that designed to cheer us up?” asked Galen.

  “I thought it was important,” said Barlow. “After all, I was just trying to be helpful.”

  “You’ve already done a wonderful job for us,” said Burke.

  “I’m sorry,” said Barlow. “I couldn’t help it.”

  Burke sighed loudly. “Come on, Galen,” he said.

  “Where?” asked the chimpanzee.

  Burke shook his head, laughing joylessly. “With all that Urko’s got going for him, we’d better see if we can jiggle a few odds in our favor.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Barlow.

  “I don’t know yet,” said Burke.

  “Be careful,” said Barlow.

  “What can happen?” asked Galen. “We could get recaptured. We could get shot. That’s what will happen if we don’t do anything.”

  “We might as well take a chance or two,” said Burke. “It will help pass the time.”

  The race course was actually little more than a rough lane going past a small grandstand; the stands had been built a few years before, when Urko began his circuit of racing. They were never used for anything but this yearly race. Right in front of the grandstand were two poles, which indicated the starting line and the finish line. More than half a mile away, out of sight of the grandstand, there was a large tree. The riders raced for the tree, circled it, and came back over the road. Near the two poles by the grandstand Burke was digging a deep hole in the ground. Galen watched to be sure that no one interrupted him; it was still well before the race was to begin, and no one was around. Galen looked like the overseer on some strange job; that was the way Burke and Galen had planned it, to fool any casual observers. While Burke dug, Galen busied himself carving notches in a wooden spool; the chimpanzee reclined on the ground.

  “I really do wish that I could help you,” said Galen.

  Burke looked up from his labor and wiped his sweating face. “I’ll just bet you do,” he said without malice. “I can see how anxious you are to start shoveling.”

  “Really, Pete,” said Galen. “But we must think of appearances.”

  “Yeah,” said Burke. “Sure.”

  “If anybody saw me digging, they’d say, ‘Why are you doing that? That’s what humans are for!’ Otherwise, I’d give you a hand.”

  Burke stretched the fingers on both of his hands; blisters had formed on his palms, at the base of his fingers, from holding the shovel. His back hurt from lifting and throwing the dirt. His chest hurt from the heavy breathing he was doing as he worked. “Cut it out, Galen,” he said. “You love it up there and you know it!” Burke leaned on his shovel and took a couple of deep breaths.

  For reply, Galen held up his spool. “Well,” he said, “I am contributing to the effort. I’m doing everything I can. Even if I don’t exactly understand it. Your mind is every bit as devious as Barlow’s. Do you think this is really going to help us save Alan?”

  Burke turned back to his digging. “You’re getting warm, buddy,” he said. “You’re getting warm.”

  Galen was puzzled by Burke’s words. “Warm?” he said, not able to find the slightest meaning in the word that had to do with their present situation. “I’m not the least bit warm.”

  “Then just keep cool,” said Burke, throwing a shovelful of soil out of the hole.

  “Is that another of your ancient human expressions?” asked Galen. “I wish there were some way you could warn me when you were going to use one. You know how much trouble I have understanding you and Alan sometimes.” Baffled, Galen gave up trying to figure Burke’s words out, and resumed carving notches in the spool.

  Outside the village, at Martin’s homestead, there was the loud ringing of metal on metal. In Martin’s smithy, the man was shaping a horseshoe on his anvil. Virdon hovered nearby, watching the process critically.

  “How is this?” asked Martin.

  “Thinner, Martin, thinner!” said Virdon. He was becoming frustrated; he knew that Martin was, too. “A race horse must have thin, lightweight shoes on its feet.”

  “Urko’s horses don’t,” said Martin. “And they always win. His horses wear the same shoes as any other horse.”

  Virdon jabbed his finger in the air to underline what Martin had just said. “That’s the point!” said the astronaut. “That’s where we have the advantage. In a race, every little bit helps. Even Urko understands that. We have to find our slight winning edge in places like this.”

  “I don’t pretend to understand,” said Martin. “But if it will help to save my son, I will do anything.” He continued to shape the shoe to Virdon’s specifications, and the astronaut bent closer to watch.

  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 need 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 syes. 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.