Planet of the Apes Omnibus 3

by Titan Books

  “I… I was just remembering,” said Virdon. His voice was heavy and mournful. “I remembered how I once… sat around a fire something like this… telling my own son almost the same thing.” He swallowed, and was unable to continue for a moment. “Chris,” he said finally, softly. “I wonder whatever became… of the little guy…“

  Remus had gone quietly to stand by his mother and tugged at her sleeve. Virdon, who was staring blankly into space, did not notice being consumed for the moment by his memories. Zantes bent to hear her son’s whispered words. “Is he crying?” he asked.

  “Well,” said Zantes, studying Virdon with pity, “they have feelings, too… just like us. Now hush.” Remus looked at the large man and shook his head. He couldn’t understand why Virdon suddenly broke up their discussion. The ape child looked again at the ear of corn he held and thought about that, instead.

  * * *

  At night, the headquarters of the gorilla mounted Patrol seemed peaceful enough. A weak yellow light beamed through the windows. There was no movement except the slow wandering of the horses in the corral.

  A gorilla Patrol rider, coming off duty, tried to urge his horse into the corral. He gave the animal a whack on its flank. The horse jumped forward, and the ape closed the gate behind it.

  The ape adjusted his uniform and pulled his heavy gauntlets tighter, a nervous habit that he repeated every few minutes. He turned to speak to someone behind him. “Why are you so interested in runaway bonded humans?” asked the gorilla. “You couldn’t afford to buy one, anyway.”

  Beside him stood a nearly exhausted Anto. The sweat dripped from his face and his shaggy hair was matted with twigs and leaves. He had run most of the night.

  “Oh, no,” said Anto quickly. He wanted to avoid arousing the gorilla’s suspicions until Anto had the information he sought. “I was just wondering if there was a… a reward for helping you find one… or maybe two.”

  The Patrol gorilla looked at Anto closely. It didn’t seem likely to him that the young ape would run so frantically at night just to ask that question. Not unless there was more to the story than he was revealing. “Reward?” said the gorilla scornfully. “Of course not. Why? Do you know where some humans are?”

  Anto jerked as if startled. “Why, no,” he said. “I just thought that you might tell me what a couple of escaped humans looked like. If you had some descriptions of some recently escaped humans, maybe I could stay on the lookout for them.”

  The gorilla thought that this was particularly stupid. He waved the notion away. “All humans look alike,” he said. “You know that.”

  Anto tried to strengthen his flimsy story. “Maybe… I would go hunting for them. I mean, if it would pay enough to… well, to buy a new bull calf.”

  The Patrol rider’s lip curled in contempt. “You peasants are all the same,” he said. “You want to get paid for doing your duty.”

  Another uniformed gorilla was walking slowly toward them from the Patrol-area headquarters. The first gorilla turned away from Anto and began pulling his gauntlets tight again. Anto guessed that their conversation had come to an end; he had learned little, but there was nothing more he could say or do without giving everything away to the dull-witted gorillas.

  The Patrol rider with whom Anto had the discussion moved away to meet his companion. He spoke to Anto without turning around. “Now go on,” he said. “Unless you want to be arrested for loitering around horses.”

  The first gorilla met his comrade on the path and stopped. The new gorilla was the same one who had ridden into Polar’s farm so boldly, inquiring after escaped human slaves. He looks questioningly toward Anto. “Who is that?” he asked the first gorilla.

  “Some back country farmer,” said the Patrol rider. “He thinks we ought to be giving a bounty on bonded humans this year.”

  The second gorilla stared at Anto. “He looks familiar. I’ve seen him in the last few days. Where is he from?” While he spoke, Anto moved away, off into the darkness.

  “Some distance, I’d say,” said the first gorilla. He looked like he’d been running half the night.”

  The second gorilla looked suspicious. “Hmmm. Looking for bounty, you say?” he mused.

  “Reward, he said.”

  The second gorilla slapped one fist into the palm of his other hand. “I think that it just might pay to have him followed.”

  8

  The next morning, the sky was covered with heavy black clouds threatening a storm by day’s end; the atmosphere at Polar’s farm was similarly charged with a nameless anxiety. All attention was focused on the stall in which Anto’s cow still lay, making low grunting sounds of pain. Anto was extremely worried. He knew that no one understood the seriousness of the situation as well as he. Polar was as concerned as his son, but Anto was so nearly out of his mind with worry he could not admit it. “She’ll die,” he said, his voice choked with impotent anger. “Then what will I do? Wait another three years for another heifer to freshen? Another three years, another four years?”

  Polar had nothing constructive to do or say. All that he could say was a helpless, “Virdon says that she’ll be all right.”

  Anto glared. “Sure,” he said, between clenched teeth, “Virdon! Who’s helped you plow the fields and harvest the crops all these years? Virdon?”

  Polar knew that his elder son could not be answered. Anto had shared the successes and failures of the farm since he had been of age to help. Virdon had only been around several days. And… Virdon was a human being. “He does seem to know about these things,” said Polar weakly.

  “He’s turned your mind,” said Anto aggressively. “He’s won you with clever talk and tricks.” Anto paused for effect. “This cow is dying from their curse. She started dying the day they walked in here. Remember? They came in here, carrying that human-lover, Galen.”

  Polar did not answer immediately. Anto’s words had a great persuasion especially when Polar didn’t have the counsel of Virdon or Burke to offset it. And the coincidence that Anto mentioned was also too great for Polar’s superstitious mind. “I’ll have a talk with them.”

  Anto had another trump to play. “Galen can stand,” he said evilly. “I’ve seen him.”

  Polar looked surprised. Were the humans and their “master”, Galen, out to trick Polar, after all? It did not seem likely, but if what Anto had said was true, then…

  “They’re just staying so the cow will die, I tell you,” said the young ape. “Humans burn the flesh and eat it, you’ve heard that!”

  Polar was revolted, but he nodded his head. There were stories of human beings eating the cooked meat of cows. But Polar wanted to be fair to everyone concerned. “Are you sure that Galen can stand?” he asked.

  * * *

  In Remus’ brightly lit room, Galen was standing, weakly, with the aid of a crutch. His mind swam dizzily with the effort, but he was determined to hasten his recovery; every hour that he remained in one place endangered not only himself, but also the two human beings he had come to trust and admire. He experimented a few moments at a time. He took a step or two, and then had to stop. The sweat stood out on his young face in large droplets and his hands shook in a disconcerting manner. Galen had to fight off faintness.

  While he was exercising his injured leg, Jillia entered the room, carrying a water jug. “Not too much at one time,” she said. “You’ll, break open the wound, Mother says.”

  Galen smiled at the young female ape. He was glad to see her. He had spent many long months in the company of the human beings or among hostile apes. It was an unexpected pleasure to meet someone as lovely and sensitive as Jillia. In many ways she was like her mother, Zantes, and that was a high compliment indeed. “It’s feeling better,” he said lightly. “The pain has turned to itching. That’s supposed to be a good sign. Virdon and Burke will be surprised… when I walk right out to them.”

  “Not quite yet,” said Jillia. There was a moment of silence, while Jillia set the jug of water by Galen’s
bed. When she looked up, there was a curious, concerned look on her face. “I don’t understand you anyway,” she said. “You must have come from a good family… your manner… your speech. And now you’re running with… with… humans. And they’ve filled your mind with mad ideas.”

  Galen laughed. He enjoyed his conversations with Jillia. Like Zantes, she showed an innate brightness and cheerfulness of spirit. Galen was saddened at the thought that, also like her mother, Jillia might well be buried by the hard life of a farmer’s wife. Nevertheless, it was a good life, though a wearing one; as well Jillia had never seen the city, as her mother had, so the young ape woman would not miss its excitements. “I’m not mad, Jillia,” he said. “Now, you know that I can’t tell you any more, so please stop asking.”

  “Why don’t you just let them go on by themselves?” she asked.

  Galen sat down on his bed, sighing loudly. He passed a hand over his sweating brow. These country apes…! He caught himself quickly. One of the things that he had begun to learn from his association with Virdon and Burke was the stupidity of prejudice and indiscriminate hatred. The gods themselves knew how much of that he had suffered himself! “I can’t let them go,” he said. “You keep asking the same question in different ways! Before I learned better, that’s just the way I thought every female was born to behave.”

  Jillia spoke wryly. “I thought that you might never notice.” She turned and left the room, unaware of Galen’s raised eyebrows and amusement.

  Later, in a field at the bottom of a hill on the farm, Burke stood watching water pour from a trough that he had built. His rough-knit clothes were soaking wet and filthy. He had labored without rest all during the day, and although Polar occasionally stopped his own work to watch, the ape had no idea what Burke was doing. The field that interested Burke was a virtual swamp, of no use to anyone, and Burke’s interest in it seemed a waste of valuable time.

  Burke had constructed the trough with split bamboo-like reeds. He was draining the water from the marsh land into a ditch that he had dug for the purpose. Now, after many hours labor, Burke could rest. He stood with a very pleased look on his face. Remus standing near him, applauded the sight. Polar approached again with Anto. Burke could hardly wait for them to arrive, so that he could show off his newest engineering feat.

  Polar kept silent until he came very close to Burke. He did not notice what Burke had accomplished, so intent was he on his own mission. He gestured for Remus to leave them alone in order to speak privately. “Burke,” he said, “I must talk with you and Virdon.” Then he noticed the water pouring from the bamboo trough. “What is this?” he asked.

  Remus had not left, and instead, began jumping up and down excitedly, proud himself to be a part of Burke’s new success. “See,” he said loudly, “Burke is making us a whole new field. We’ll have a whole new field!” His enthusiasm had robbed him of his articulateness.

  Polar had had just about enough of the two astronauts and their bizarre creations. Soon, everything on the farm and everything in the house would bear the mark of the humans’ meddling; then what would the neighbors say? How could Polar dare to face them? “Silence!” he commanded his younger son.

  “Well,” said Burke, wiping his muddy hands on his torn trousers, “it isn’t exactly the Panama Canal, but I’m draining the water off that low marshy field for you.”

  Polar turned to look at the swamp that had always been a source of frustration to him. It was part of his homestead, but there had never been the least chance that it could be made productive.

  Anto was just as belligerent as usual. He looked at Burke and wrinkled his nose in disgust. The human reeked from the work he had been doing. “That field is no good for anything but a hiding place for snakes,” he said.

  Burke laughed. “I suppose that’s what it’s been for generations,” he said. He knew that the best way to get to Polar was to suggest some way for the family to make a little more honest money, to improve the condition of life for Polar’s wife and children. Burke nodded out toward the draining marsh. “It will be useful, though,” he said. “Probably the best field on your farm as soon as it’s drained, dry enough to plow and plant. That’s good rich soil that you’ve never used before.”

  Polar knelt near the flowing water. He touched the water running from the bamboo pipe. He was genuinely amazed. The prospect was overwhelming. A new field… more crops… better crops. Could Burke be right, again?

  “Is this some new… magic?” asked Polar.

  Burke shook his head. How long would it be before Polar would grasp the simple principles behind what the astronauts had been doing? Would the ape cling forever to the dictates that he had received from his father, from his grandfather, from his predecessors, generation upon generation?

  Remus spoke up importantly, as though he had a momentous secret. “Wait’ll you see,” he said. “Wait’ll you see!”

  “Be still,” said Polar absently, still wondering over Burke’s drainage work.

  Burke noticed that Polar was showing obvious interest in his recent invention. He knew that, sooner or later, there would come the inevitable discussion of how Burke had come by the knowledge. He tried to forestall that. “Just a little… engineering… I learned once,” he said.

  Anto did not understand the word at all. It created just the reaction that Burke was trying to avoid. Anto was trying to start a row on any pretext. “You see,” he said insolently, “he admits it! ‘Engineering’…”

  Remus tried to intercede for Burke. The younger son had watched the entire job, and knew that nothing supernatural was involved. “No, no,” he said. He began tugging excitedly at his father’s sleeve, trying to get Polar to follow him.

  “Father, Father,” he cried, “you have to see what Burke has been doing. There’s nothing magic about it. I know, I was guarding him the whole time. Anto doesn’t know. He wasn’t even there. Wait’ll you see the rest, Father! Come on! Come on!”

  Polar was bewildered and a little annoyed. He was tugged along by his son toward an area on the other side of the ditch. They walked toward higher ground, behind some trees. Polar turned to glance back over his shoulder, at the mysterious water flow. Behind him, a proud Burke and an angry Anto followed.

  In the field, behind the grove of maple and birch trees, Virdon was hard at work. He was just fastening the last slat in a windmill wheel. He sat on the ground, beside the base of a windmill tower that he and Burke had set up. The tower was constructed of saplings bound together with tough vines and spare lengths of rope. He looked up when he heard the approaching voices.

  When the group came close enough, Virdon rose slowly, holding the windmill wheel in both hands. He nodded to Polar and smiled to Burke. Virdon did not care to notice Anto’s glares.

  “Tell them, Virdon,” said Remus, “tell them what you’re making. A windy mill.”

  Virdon tossed the wheel to Remus, who caught the contraption easily and laughed. “A windmill,” corrected Virdon.

  “That’s what I said,” said Remus. “A windmill.”

  Burke pointed up at the windmill tower. “This will be the other half of your irrigation system, Polar,” said Burke.

  Polar was growing weary of these mysteries. Virdon and Burke had, in all truthfulness, wrought some beneficial changes on the farm but why did they always have to proceed with such mystery? “Speak plain,” said Polar.

  “Well,” said Burke, “when Virdon’s through with that wheel, it goes up there.” The dark-haired astronaut pointed to the top of the makeshift windmill tower. Everyone glanced up with him, each with a different emotion on his face. “And then,” said Burke, pointing back to the ditch that had followed the same route they had taken, “we’ll pump that water out of the ditch, and onto the dry ground up here where you need it when it doesn’t rain.”

  Burke’s words were too much for Anto. Once more, he had reached the limit of his patience and credence. He flew into the rage that became all too common in the last few days. “
You see!” he shouted. “Making oxen lift hay that should be pitched. Now, conjuring the wind to… to make water pour where it shouldn’t. It’s unnatural! No wonder my cow is dying! Tell them!”

  Polar was utterly confused. He had a duty to Anto to help him through his difficult time. But Virdon and Burke promised the reclamation of a swampy field, and the watering of an arid one. He avoided the matter for the moment. “Anto has seen your… friend, Galen, stand,” he said.

  Virdon and Burke exchanged looks of surprise. It was obvious that this was news to them. They wondered why Galen would conceal his recovery from them. The only effect of that would be mutual endangerment.

  Polar knew, or at least he could guess, what it meant. “If this is so,” he said, “you must go.”

  Anto was perfectly happy to accept this dictum. “Yes!” he cried. “It’s true! He stands.”

  Remus took the opportunity to voice his own protest. He hated the thought of losing Burke now: the slave had become a friend. “They can’t go now,” he said, whining just a little. “Not until they finish, so I can see it work. No, no!”

  Polar looked down at Remus, wondering how the young ape could so quickly become attached to the two humans. Remus had had pets before, but…

  “It’s not for you to say,” said Polar. “The youngest has no say in this matter.”

  Remus kicked at a nonexistent stone. “I do have a say,” he muttered. His mind was on more important things than his father or brother could imagine. “I have a say. Anto is only worrying about a bull calf.”

  Anto gave a short, derisive laugh. Remus may have been right, but the youngster did not understand the seriousness of what he had said. “Wait until your time comes to worry,” he said.

  Remus wasn’t convinced. A bull calf… did that equal the many wonderful things that Burke and Virdon had shown him? “I want to, learn about bigger things, like this.” Remus indicated the windmill. “They can’t leave now. Not until I see it work. Please? Please?”