Planet of the Apes Omnibus 3

by Titan Books

  “But I’d like to…”

  Virdon stared over his bowl at the young boy for a few seconds. “Kraik,” he said at last, “if the apes ever thought you knew, they’d tear you apart to get the information. That wouldn’t be fair to you, or to my friends. I’ll keep the information inside me, because I’m confident that, whatever Urko has planned, he won’t get the information from me.”

  Kraik’s expression hardened. “I don’t care,” he said. “I thought we were friends. I thought we could share things together. I’ve never had anyone like you before. I don’t see what harm it could do if you were just to tell me where your friends are. Perhaps me or my friends could help them.”

  Arn interrupted quickly. She could understand the situation much better than the young boy. “He’s trying to protect us, Kraik. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to know. But if you don’t have the information, you can’t be hurt by the gorilla guards. Can’t you see that? Us. He’s protecting us.”

  For a long moment, Arn stared at Kraik, hoping that her words would convince the hostile boy. Kraik could not meet her powerful, level gaze. He lowered his eyes. Then Arn glanced back at Virdon, with a growing sense of warmth. Everything about this strange man seemed honorable and upright.

  “You are a very good man, Alan,” she said softly. The words were difficult to speak; she had never addressed but one other man in such a way, in all of her life. “You are like Tomar was.” Tears in her eyes threatened to spill out and run down her cheek. She fought them back.

  Virdon heard her words with a rare, long-forgotten thrill of pleasure. “And you’re a good woman, Arn,” he said. “Like… His voice trailed off. He stopped himself and the line of thought that he had begun to pursue. “You’re a very good woman,” he repeated lamely. The two adults looked at each other for a moment, neither wishing to say anything further, each feeling their relationship building.

  * * *

  Another day began. The sun rose above the shattered buildings, pouring down its warming rays upon the few human and ape creatures abroad. Otherwise the city was deserted. Through the empty streets came the echoing clop of horses’ hooves. Urko was personally leading several squads of gorilla’ guards as they made an intensive building-by-building search through the city. As they proceeded, several men, haggard, starving, poorly clothed, were dragged as suspects from buildings and shown to Urko, who impatiently rejected them. He had no interest at all in these filthy creatures. There were only two individuals in the city whom he had any desire to meet. These poor creatures captured by the gorillas weren’t the fugitives; they were permitted to scuttle away to safety.

  Galen was hidden behind a mound of rubble, carefully looking ahead and off toward the searching gorillas. He watched them for another moment, then turned and retreated back into the rubble and hurried away from the scene.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, back inside the scientific institute, the first bright shafts of sunlight beamed down on Virdon, who was still curled up uncomfortably on the floor. He rose, stretched, and began the final preparations. He had almost completed the battery. He tested it and got a spark. It worked.

  Burke did not hear the entrance of Galen, as the chimpanzee somewhat clumsily upset the piles of debris in the outer hall. Galen entered the work area and quickly moved toward Burke. It would have been obvious that Galen was bearing important news, but Burke was too concerned with his own success to notice.

  “It works!” cried Burke exultantly. “After all these hours of frustration, I made the doggone thing work!”

  Galen interrupted in an agitated voice. “We haven’t got much more time,” he said worriedly. “Gorillas are going into every building. They’ve started moving in this direction. We’re sure to be discovered here. We’ll have to think of something different.”

  Burke considered the problem. This was just the kind of incident that he had hoped might not interfere with their work. The gorillas always had a knack for disturbing them just on the verge of success. “The battery’s ready to be hooked up,” said Burke. “How much time do we have?”

  “Not much,” said Galen. “They know exactly what they’re looking for. Us.”

  In the alcove, the projector machine stood on its pedestal in the niche. If the gorillas arrived first, the machine was as good as dead for all eternity.

  * * *

  Inside the castle prison, Virdon was seated in the warm glow from a shaft of sunlight. He was whittling a model airplane out of a piece of wood. Kraik was crouched down beside him, watching, fascinated.

  “What are you doing?” asked Kraik.

  “I’m whittling,” said Virdon. “I used to love to whittle when I was a boy.”

  “Well, then, what are you making?”

  Virdon held the piece of wood, out at arm’s length, giving it a long, critical examination. He started trimming some of the bumps and ridges. “It’s an airplane,” he said at last. “A flying machine.” Virdon held the plane and zoomed it through the air, near Kraik’s head. The boy laughed.

  “An… airplane?” asked the boy.

  “Sure. We had them all the time in my day,” said Virdon.

  Kraik smiled to indicate that he didn’t really believe this.

  “I don’t understand you again,” said Kraik. “I understand the gorillas better than I understand you. Flying machine? Will it really fly?”

  Virdon concentrated on his whittling. “Maybe,” he said noncommittally.

  “Can I have it?” asked Kraik.

  “When I’m finished with it,” said Virdon. “Maybe.” Arn moved close to the two males, watching Virdon as he worked on his project. She stood there with them, feeling a sense of warmth and fondness.

  Virdon continued to work on the model airplane, concentrating on the toy to the exclusion of everything else around him. He did not see Arn’s softening glance, or Kraik’s fascinated stare. The airplane itself, being a reminder of Virdon’s old world, brought him a warm and pleasant glow of the days he had been removed from.

  “Did you fly yourself?” asked Kraik. “Did you ever really fly? Really?”

  Virdon was amused by the vehemence in the boy’s questions. They were tinged with disbelief but, yet, a kind of hopefulness. “Many times,” said the blond astronaut. “I flew in an airplane probably more times than you went to sleep not hungry. There was a day when people used to fly everywhere. Instead of having to walk hundreds of miles, or steal rides on the backs of farmers’ carts, people just boarded huge airplanes and flew for hundreds and even thousands of miles.”

  “And in those days,” said Kraik, still not comprehending how Virdon’s days were different than his own, “did the people have enough to eat?”

  Virdon looked at the boy with compassion. This overwhelming search for daily food colored every thought the boy had.

  The answer to the question was not simple. Virdon had to consider his reply carefully. He thought in silence for several seconds. “Not always,” he said at last. “And not everyone.”

  Kraik shrugged. He had suspected that Virdon had not come from so far away, after all. “Like here, now,” he said.

  Virdon sighed. It would be very difficult to explain the differences in their eras; it would require an entire indoctrination about how the apes had not always been in power, and how human beings had governed the world. “No,” said Virdon, “people in that time didn’t have it as tough as you do now.”

  Kraik grinned proudly. “I don’t eat bad,” he said. It was obviously a sign of status among the people of the forbidden area. “If anybody can find food, it’s me. I know this city like nobody else. If I hear somebody’s got fruit or maybe sometimes meat, I sneak in the back way, or come up through a sewer, or crawl in a hidden window; I grab and run before anybody’s even looking.” He finished his speech with an insolent look of self-confidence, an expression that bordered on arrogance. He virtually dared Virdon to find fault with him.

  Virdon did not want to find fault. He felt that it wa
s necessary though to point out that there might be better ways to co-exist with the apes and the other humans in the city. “If we can get our hands on what’s buried in this city,” he said, “You nor anybody else will have to scratch and steal for food any more.”

  “Is food buried?” asked Kraik.

  Virdon shook his head. “A lot of long-forgotten ideas that might be used to make this a nicer world,” he said.

  Virdon grinned at the boy. “There must be a million things you never dreamed of.”

  Kraik thought about Virdon’s words. As before, there were elements that were totally above the boy’s head. They bore no factual relation to anything in die boy’s experience. “Could I have my own…” he said, stumbling on the words and the concept, “…‘flying machine’?”

  Virdon continued to whittle the airplane from the block of wood. The exercise was pleasant and restful. He had barely heard Kraik’s question, and the answer did not come until the boy’s words penetrated Virdon’s conscious mind. “Oh,” said the blond astronaut, “maybe.”

  Virdon stood up, holding the unfinished plane in one hand. He stretched and smiled at Arn, then walked toward the stairway. He slowly mounted the stairs, seeking privacy in one of the rooms off the corridor above. Arn followed.

  Kraik stood where he was, watching Virdon and Arn as they left.

  Virdon found the room he was looking for. In one corner was an old, small wooden box. He opened the lid and placed the nearly complete airplane model inside, for safekeeping. Arn came up behind him.

  “Hello,” he said to her. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “I’m sorry to surprise you,” said Arn. “He respects you, Alan,” she said in a grateful tone of voice.

  Virdon smiled and looked thoughtfully into the distance. “My own son would be about his age,” he said softly.

  “It’s a remarkable thing,” said Am. “I’ve known him for several years. I’m sure that he never trusted anyone else before.”

  Virdon frowned. He thought about the different lifestyles that had molded Arn and his own son. “Never?” he asked. “He’s never had a friend before?”

  Arn shuddered. This wonderful, strange man had still a lot to learn about their lives. “In the city,” she said, “no one has friends.”

  Virdon considered her feelings. “I wonder, though,” he said. “He must have known his father or his mother.”

  “I would not recognize my own parents among those in this city,” said Am, without a trace of ill will. It was simply a statement of fact, accepted by all who chose to live in the forbidden area. “Even fathers—not all of them, but some— fight anybody for enough food to stay alive.”

  “That poor kid…” said Virdon.

  * * *

  Urko had a rough map of the city tacked on one wall. He stood near it, studying it, working on it, marking off sections. As Zaius entered, Urko turned from his work and smiled.

  Zaius went up next to Urko and examined the map, with its bright colored pins stuck in ruled-off sectors. “How do the war games go, Urko?” he asked.

  Urko grunted and turned back to his map. He did not bother to reply to Zaius for a full minute. He was irritated; whenever Urko and his allied soldiers prepared an intelligent search and seizure scheme, Zaius spoiled the atmosphere by referring to the procedure as a “game.” Urko worked on his map while his anger cooled. “This is just in the event that I kill the prisoner before he tells me where the others are,” said the gorilla. “It’s a backup system. You would never have thought to provide for one. This is an example of gorilla efficiency and experience.”

  Urko turned back to face the President of the Supreme Council. “And Zaius,” he said, “even if your way does not work, I intend to find Galen and Burke. And I shall kill them, too.”

  “I have no doubt about that,” said Zaius unpleasantly.

  * * *

  In the scientific institute, the day progressed slowly. The niche in which the machine stood was partially blocked off by a makeshift wall, constructed of bits and pieces of fallen masonry. Galen approached with a piece of crumbling masonry which he added to the wall. As he finished doing this, Burke appeared with another piece of masonry which he, too, added to the wall. At all times, the two friends kept the stolen rifle close at hand.

  Galen steadied the new pieces as the wall grew larger. He worked in silence until a question occurred to him. “If we cover this,” he asked, “how will Alan know you made the, uh, the projector work?”

  Burke laughed. “There are things you learn about someone when you spend a lot of times with him. Alan knows me like a book, and I have a feeling that I could guess his reactions in a situation, too. The answer is logic. Step One, he guesses we wouldn’t cover it if there was nothing to hide. That brings him to Step Two. He uncovers it. He sees the new battery, he turns on the machine, and he learns the location of the vault. Step Three, logic tells him that’s where we’ve gone.”

  Any further discussion was interrupted by the terrifying clatter of horses’ hooves not far away.

  Galen stared at the wall of the institute. He listened with his superior hearing for a moment, then turned back to Burke. “Unless, of course,” he said grimly, “Step Four, the gorillas catch us here before we can finish.”

  Burke snorted. “You’re a real bundle of joy,” he said.

  Virdon, Kraik, and Arn were seated near the fire. Virdon had finished fashioning a pouch from rough cloth and leather thongs. “There you go,” he said. “We’ll work up a strap to hold it to your side, then you can carry your things in it.”

  Kraik looked at him blankly. “What things?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Virdon. “Not a baseball or a stick of chewing gum, not even crumbled up chocolate chip cookies…”

  Kraik looked at Virdon uncomprehendingly, having no idea what the man was talking about.

  “I’m rambling,” said Virdon. “Where I come from, boys like to have pockets. Like this pouch, so they can carry whatever they want.”

  “This place you come from,” said Kraik, almost afraid to ask. “Will you go back there?”

  “I hope so,” said Virdon with a faraway look in his eyes. “Some day.”

  “I think I’d like to see that place,” said Kraik.

  Virdon glanced at him with fondness. He reached out and tousled Kraik’s hair. “I think you ought to pull your weight around here.”

  “What?” asked Kraik.

  “Do your share of the work,” said Virdon. “Go down to the cellar and collect some more firewood.”

  Kraik made a face. “I will,” he said. “In a little while.”

  “That story you told Kraik,” said Arn, “About what the world could be like. Was that true?”

  “It was a hope,” said Virdon.

  Arn’s expression changed. She was clearly disappointed. “Oh,” she said. “Only a hope.”

  Virdon spoke quickly, wanting to reassure her. “It’s not impossible,” he said. “My friends and I found a place where there was a message. It told about hope for the world, for humans. Hope in the form of human knowledge.”

  Kraik looked disgusted. “What good is that?” he asked. “Can you eat it?”

  Arn ignored Kraik’s words. “How do you find this knowledge?” she asked.

  Virdon thought for a moment. “Do you know that building not far from where you lived? It has big columns in front of it, and an arched entrance that’s partly caved in.”

  “Is it made of crumbling gray brick?” asked Kraik.

  “That’s the one,” said Virdon. “Didn’t I ask you to get some wood?”

  Kraik ignored the order. “I’ve been there. There’s nothing inside, no food, no clothes, nothing.”

  “You’re wrong,” said Virdon. “There’s a machine in that building, Kraik, and by now it may have told my friends how to find the knowledge that could change the world.”

  “A machine that talks?” asked Kraik, his credulity stretched to the breaki
ng point. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “If you don’t get to work right now, I’ll really make fun of you.”

  Kraik grimaced. “I want to hear more stories.”

  “Later,” said Virdon sternly. “Do your job first.”

  Kraik started to protest again, but Virdon overrode him. “Right now,” said the blond man. Resignedly, Kraik stood and went out.

  For a few seconds there was silence. It was evident to Virdon that Am, too, had her doubts and her questions, but she was working to overcome her shyness in asking them. “I like to hear stories about your world, too,” she said.

  “Compared to where you were living, almost any place would sound wonderful,” said Virdon.

  “When I first met Tomar,” said Arn wistfully, “he lived on a farm with his brother. It was beautiful.”

  “Why did you leave?” asked Virdon.

  “A woman goes with her man,” she said. “Tomar wanted to reach other men, make them think the way he did, make them have hope. The apes killed him.”

  “He wouldn’t have been really alive if he didn’t have hope,” said Virdon, realizing that Arn’s dead husband had been one of the few humans in this world with the intelligence and vision to stand up against the apes.

  Arn flared up momentarily. “Other men don’t try to change the world. They live to hold a woman in their arms, to have sons…” Her voice trailed off; she seemed to be afraid of the depth of her own emotions. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be,” said Virdon. “Couldn’t you go back to the farm?”

  “I don’t know,” said Am. “I’ve thought about it. It’s easier just to do nothing, though. And, when you’re alone, maybe it’s better not to go where you’re always reminded that once you weren’t alone…”

  Virdon remained silent for some time, considering what his proper response should be. “You could meet another man,” he said.

  “Yes. I didn’t think so, but now I do. Tell me another story, Alan.”

  There was a moment of quiet as they looked at each other. Virdon felt himself approaching an emotional brink that suddenly seemed dangerous to him. He withdrew with a conscious effort.