by Titan Books
Outside, the day was still warm and silent. There was nothing in the air to show the strain of the day’s events; far away, crops grew. Birds wheeled in the sky overhead. Only the sound of horse’s hooves made Martin watch the road anxiously. Would it be Greger? Or a squad of gorillas?
Greger, his horse limping, rode into the barnyard. Martin, Burke, and Virdon ran out of the hut to meet him. “You made it!” cried Burke jubilantly.
“Good work, Greger,” said Virdon.
“Greger,” was all that Martin could say.
The youth was still breathing hard from the chase. He slid off the horse and staggered a little. Then he reached into his trousers and handed the vial of serum to Burke, who dashed immediately to the house. Virdon remained outside only long enough to put his hand on Greger’s shoulder and say, “Thanks. For Galen.” Then Virdon, too, turned and ran toward the hut where the sick chimpanzee rested. Martin came nearer to his son and looked at him; on the father’s face was gratitude that Greger had succeeded, safely. But Martin’s expression changed when he saw what his son was pointing to.
“What’s that?” asked Martin, although he knew very well what it was.
“A wound,” said Greger. Martin was silent for a moment, very afraid to continue the conversation. He knew there was trouble here for them both.
“The horse!” said Martin finally. “What happened?”
Greger was still shaken by his narrow escape. He recalled the events of the last hour; it seemed to him that a great deal more time had passed than that. He felt that he had aged a full year in the space of sixty minutes. He knew that the details of the scene would only fret his father needlessly. “It’s only a flesh wound,” he said, trying to make light of the affair.
“I can see that,” said Martin. “But the point is, for the horse to have been wounded, there must have been a great deal more happening. Now we are in trouble!”
Greger was impatient with his father, who always seemed to see things in their worst possible aspects. “It’s not serious, Father,” said Greger. “The bullet was deflected by the shoulder blade. The horse will be all right.” He turned and rubbed the wounded area. The horse made a soft nickering sound. Greger managed a bit of a grin. “After all,” he said, “just be glad they missed me.”
“Who missed you?” demanded. Martin. “Where? When?”
Greger just shook his head and began working over the horse’s wound.
* * *
Inside the hut, Virdon had taken the serum from Burke and was preparing to administer it. He had poured the serum from the vial into a large spoon. Burke held Galen’s shoulders and head up from the cot, to receive the medicine. Virdon put the bottle down and brought the spoonful of serum to Galen’s lips. At first, the delirious chimpanzee had no idea what was happening. Galen believed that he was being threatened. He swung an arm weakly at his imagined attacker. Virdon raised the spoon and brought it back out of Galen’s reach without spilling any of the serum. Burke held Galen’s arms; with his free hand, Virdon forced open the chimpanzee’s mouth, and then deftly, slipped the dose of serum down Galen’s throat. Galen made a face, snorted, and swallowed. Almost immediately, the exhausted ape relaxed and went to sleep.
Burke let him lie back; the astronaut sat on the floor beside the bed, struggling to control his emotions. Both men watched the still form of the chimpanzee. Galen’s face seemed peaceful. Virdon began pacing the room, thinking.
“Martin says the serum works within half an hour,” he said.
“If it works,” said Burke. “You know ape medicine.”
“We’ve had experience with ape doctors before,” said Virdon in agreement, thinking back over their long road since crashing in this strange world. “I suppose I’ll go see if I can help with the horse.” Virdon went outside, leaving Burke alone with Galen.
Virdon was a good deal more worried than he wanted to reveal to his friend. Ape medicine was an incomplete science; much of the knowledge that humans had discovered had been lost, and in the practice of medicine, the apes relied just as much on superstition and magic as they did scientific judgment. Virdon emerged from the hut, but he stopped in the yard as he saw the scene before him. Greger was working on the horse’s shoulder, while Martin looked on, obviously worried, nervous, and fidgety. Virdon guessed that something serious had happened during Greger’s journey, something the astronauts still knew nothing about.
Virdon decided that the best thing would be to find out just what happened. When the situation concerned horses, humans were immediately put in jeopardy. If that was the case, on account of Galen and the astronauts’ worry for their friend, Virdon thought he ought to help wherever possible.
“Let me at that, Greger,” he said. “I’m an old hand with horses.”
For a moment Martin looked at Virdon sourly; he blamed the blond man for bringing trouble. Then Martin’s common sense took over. Greger stepped aside and Virdon began examining the horse’s wound.
Virdon felt a chill spread through him as he saw what had happened. There was a creased wound on the horse’s shoulder, the path of a bullet. The bullet itself was still lodged against the horse’s shoulder blade. As Virdon explored the wound, the horse flinched and reared. Virdon knew that the horse was in little danger; it was the implications of the wound that worried, him. For the bullet to be there, a gorilla had to have fired it. Virdon didn’t like that at all. “Let’s get this animal into the stable,” he said. “I’ll sterilize my knife and dig it out.”
Virdon said nothing about how the horse came to be wounded. He felt that if Greger wanted to talk about that, he would. Virdon contented himself for the present with moving to the horse’s head and taking the reins. He led the horse away, toward the barn. Virdon walked the animal slowly, with Greger and Martin following behind. Before the three humans could get the horse safely into the barn, there was the thunderous sound of horses on the road behind them. They turned to look; Virdon felt his blood run cold a second time as he watched Zandar and his companions, on Greger’s trail, ride into the yard. No one said a word. Zandar got off his horse and handed the reins to one of the other gorillas. He walked to Virdon, who was still holding the reins of the wounded horse.
“Was it you riding a horse?” asked Zandar fiercely. “Do you deny it?”
Virdon would not be flustered. He had been in worse situations, and Zandar’s aggressive manner did not impress the astronaut. He remained calm, thinking of bluffing through the situation. “I don’t deny anything,” he said. “This horse has been wounded. It must be taken care of.”
With those words, Virdon moved as though to continue. He turned his back on Zandar and started forward, urging the horse toward the barn. Greger looked at Martin, but the blacksmith had nothing to suggest. The two humans followed Virdon for a couple of steps, until Zandar stopped them all.
“Halt!” cried Zandar. “Stop right there, or my guards will shoot you down where you stand. We have plenty of horses. A wounded horse is of no importance to me.” Zandar turned to Zilo. “Arrest him!” he said. “Take him to the village. We’ll have to make an example of him.”
Zilo nodded. He was clearly pleased at having the chance to harass the humans. He gave Greger an ugly look. “I’ll take the son, too,” he said with an evil grin. “He’s probably guilty, too. We have witnesses in town.”
“You do not!” cried Martin. He was ignored.
Zilo jumped down from his horse and moved toward the humans, who still faced the barn. They had not moved since Zandar ordered them to remain still. The other two gorillas dismounted as well, and they seized Virdon. Zilo came toward Greger; the youth stepped forward, holding up a hand. “Let him go,” he said. “I rode the horse.”
The look on Zilo’s face was terrible to see. There was an evil satisfaction, a fulfilled but horrible longing as he stared at Greger. “So it was you, after all,” said Zilo. “I’m glad of that. I told Zandar that it was you. You may win me a promotion. What do you think about that?”
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Virdon and Martin looked toward the boy. Their feelings were complex and painful. “Greger,” said Virdon pleadingly, “don’t do this just to save my neck.”
“Please,” said Martin. “He’s young. He meant no harm. There was no other way.”
There was a moment of silence. It was clear to both Zilo and Zandar that the situation had grown better, for the gorillas. Zilo realized that Martin had given the game away. He nodded to Greger. “His own father confirms it,” said Zilo.
“Let the other go free,” said Zandar.
Zilo and a gorilla dragged Greger and threw him on a horse. The two apes tied Greger’s hands and ankles. Virdon was released. Zandar stood apart, overseeing the operation. Finally, Greger was a helpless captive, tossed crosswise across the flanks of the horse, unable to move his arms or legs. Zandar mounted and led the group away, pausing only for one last remark to Martin. “Thank you, old man,” he said. “You will be invited to see the execution as part of the celebration, after the race.” Zandar laughed. The gorillas wheeled their horses and galloped out of the barnyard. Virdon and Martin stared disconsolately after them. There was nothing they could do.
6
The excitement in the village of Venta grew. Business was concluded and humans and apes went home; the evening meal was eaten in a spirit of anticipation. The day of the race was approaching, and that was for many the high point in an otherwise drab daily existence.
Night fell, and Greger, now confined to the town’s stocks, was alone in his miserable and hopeless gloom. The night was chilly; no one either cared or dared to take pity on the youth, and Greger passed a night filled with discomfort and sorrow. The next morning dawned, and once again the inhabitants of the village poured forth, eager and curious. Zandar, followed by his ubiquitous shadow, Zilo, swaggered down the single main street of the town. Wherever Zandar went, he was greeted by respectful citizens and humans. Zandar reveled in the recognition. He demonstrated his power upon the innocent bodies of human slaves. Zilo encouraged him and applauded him.
Zandar reached the stocks and stared for a moment at the imprisoned Greger, locked with his head and hands dangling through the wooden barrier. “Did you sleep well, human?” asked Zandar maliciously.
“Did you expect me to?” said Greger.
“That problem should cause you no further concern,” said Zandar, stifling a yawn. “After the race, you’ll have no problem sleeping. Ever again.” The gorilla was pleased by his own wit, but he did not laugh. He waited for Zilo to do that for him. Zandar just stood by and accepted Zilo’s appreciative praise.
* * *
At Martin’s house, the atmosphere was anxious and tense. Martin himself was a grief-numbed man. He tried to work at his anvil, but his concentration was disturbed. His actions were almost reflexive, occupying no part of his thoughts.
From the hut itself, Virdon and Burke walked toward him. He did not notice them until Virdon spoke. “Galen is recovering fast,” said the astronaut.
Martin looked up and nodded. It was evident that, as much as he liked his guests, he was not really interested.
Burke understood the problem. “We want to help Greger,” he said. “We owe him that much.”
“I could be petty,” said Martin. “A small man would say, ‘You got my son in this terrible trouble.’ I admit, I even thought that last night. But there’s nothing to be done.”
“There is always something,” said Virdon. “Not until Greger, you, Pete, Galen, and myself are dead is there a time to say that nothing can be done.”
“If there was any way,” said Martin, “anything, would I be standing here, working for the apes?”
“We can talk to the prefect,” said Virdon. “Greger rode the horse to save an ape’s life.”
“The prefect won’t listen to a human,” said Martin morosely.
“Then we’ll try something else,” said Burke.
Martin considered the words of the two men. He realized what good friends they were to him; a few days before, they had been total strangers. Now, they were virtually offering up their lives in an effort to help him. “I don’t want you harmed,” he said. “You can’t help Greger.”
“We’ll just go into town and look around,” said Virdon. “That would be the first step in any event. We need to gather information. We don’t even know where Zandar took your son. Venta isn’t a special production area, is it? We don’t need special identification?”
Martin shook his head, unable to become enthusiastic over the astronauts’ offer of aid. He had lived in the area too long, he knew what kind of trouble they were courting. “The new prefect, Barlow,” he said. “He lets humans come and go freely.”
“Barlow?” asked Burke.
Virdon looked at his friend thoughtfully; the name Barlow had registered on his memory as well as Burke’s. Neither of them could place it immediately, however. Virdon was about to ask Martin some more questions, trying to pin down the identity of the prefect, but he was interrupted.
“Barlow?” came Galen’s voice, unsteady but much improved. Virdon and Burke turned to see the chimpanzee walking slowly toward them. His movements were still a bit wobbly, but his expression and manner were cheerful. He had returned to his place as a member of their team.
Virdon walked toward Galen, happy that the ape was feeling better but still concerned for his recovery. “You’re supposed to stay in bed. You remember what Martin said. The serum has done its job, and the rest is up to your body. You should be resting quietly.”
Galen looked scornfully at Virdon. “I am quiet,” he said. “At least, I’m as quiet as I ever am.”
“You were a lot quieter yesterday,” said Burke. “After you passed out.”
Galen ignored that. He turned his attention to Martin instead. “Was this Barlow the prefect at Cela before he came here?” he asked.
Martin thought for a moment. “Yes,” he said, “I think he was.”
“I thought so,” said Galen.
Burke interrupted him. “I know what you’re thinking, Galen, my furry friend. But we can talk to him as well as you can. You turn around, head back for the house, and climb back into the sack.”
“You only think you know what I’m thinking,” said Galen.
“I’m a match for any sick Galen any day of the week,” said Burke.
“Barlow is my friend,” said Galen. “He’ll listen to me.”
“We’ll tell him we’re delivering your message,” said Virdon. “We’ll say that you’re too weak from the scorpion bite to come.”
“A great idea,” said Burke.
“A terrible idea,” said Galen.
“Do you have something better?” asked Virdon.
“To make it more convincing,” said Galen, “I’ll come along and faint in his presence.”
“Very funny!” said Burke, shaking his head. “Galen, I wonder how you got along without us before we met.”
“As I recall,” said the chimpanzee, “life seemed a lot less complicated.”
“I’ll bet,” said Burke.
Martin had listened to their banter, and in it somewhere he saw a small glimmer of hope. “Is Barlow really your friend?” he asked. “Would he listen to you? Might he save Greger?” The note of pleading in the man’s voice was terribly poignant, and his three guests were each moved by compassion.
Galen dropped the light tone he had adopted with Burke, and turned seriously to Martin. “I’ll do what I can, I promise you that,” he said. “You have to remember that we’re fugitives. I don’t know how much my request will be honored.” Galen turned to the astronauts again. “Let’s be on our way,” he said.
Burke stared openmouthed. He turned to his friend but he couldn’t say anything for a moment. Virdon felt the same thing. “He’s stubborn as a… as a—” the blond man had difficulty coming up with a proper comparison.
“He’s stubborn as an ape!” said Burke.
Virdon decided to give his argument one last try. “Galen,” he
said, “be reasonable. Venta is five miles from here. You’re just not strong enough to walk that far.”
“You have enough trouble when you’re perfectly healthy,” said Burke. Galen only glared.
“An ape of my wealth and position, with two human servants, doesn’t walk,” said the young chimpanzee. He adopted a snobbish air. Neither Burke nor Virdon understood what he was hinting at; the two men only looked at each other and shrugged. Galen continued. “May I borrow a horse, Martin?” he asked.
“Oh, yes!” said Martin.
“Fine, then,” said Galen, still pretending to be a rich and bored ape from Central City. “You two walk. Maintain a respectful distance behind my horse. After all, even though I enjoy your company, I have to keep up discipline. You humans would be running all over otherwise. It would be chaos.”
Virdon and Burke could only exchange looks. Galen loved to play roles; now, though, it seemed necessary. To the two astronauts, it was a tiresome repetition. Whenever Galen played a role, Burke and Virdon also played roles. And they were always the same roles. Slaves.
* * *
Some time later, Galen rode into the village on a horse, with Virdon and Burke following meekly on foot, as slaves. Virdon spotted something and gave a small nudge to Burke, who followed his stare. They saw Martin’s son, Greger, locked cruelly in the town’s stocks. Galen gave no sign that he recognized the youth, but that was consistent with the role that the chimpanzee was playing. As they passed, Greger saw them and recognized his father’s friends. He almost called out to them.
Virdon could see that Greger, in his fatigue and loneliness, was about to spoil their deception. He felt sorry for the youth, but for the eventual success of their plan, there could be no connection between Greger and the ape and his “slaves.” Virdon made a surreptitious gesture to keep Greger from attracting attention. Greger closed his mouth without saying anything, and Galen rode on, past the boy. Virdon and Burke followed, acting as though they had never seen Martin’s son before in their lives. The three fugitives approached the house of the prefect; it had been described to them in detail by the blacksmith.
