by Titan Books
Inside, in the office, Prefect Barlow sat at his desk, working. Although the time of the race was rapidly drawing near, the prefect still had the daily routines to follow. The inner door opened, and Barlow, glad of the interruption, looked up to see who it was. His aide, Dath, entered.
“There’s someone to see you, sir,” said Dath.
“Who?” asked Barlow.
“He didn’t give a name, sir.”
“If he doesn’t have an appointment,” said Barlow, “I’m too busy.”
Dath persisted. “He says he’s a friend from Cela.”
Barlow stopped his writing. The name of the prefect’s home village brought a thoughtful expression to his face. He puzzled over the identity of his visitor for a moment, then gestured to Dath to admit the person. Dath stepped back through the doorway. “Please come in,” said the human assistant.
Dath stepped aside as Galen, followed by the two astronauts, crossed the threshold into Barlow’s office.
“Thank you,” said Galen importantly. “That will be all. Prefect Barlow will want to speak to me in private.” Dath understood what Galen meant, and closed the door on his way out.
Barlow immediately recognized Galen and the two humans. He was delighted to have a visit from them, and rose from his chair. He started across the floor toward them, a friendly greeting on his lips, but at the last moment he restrained himself. He waited for a few seconds until he heard Dath closing the outer door; evidently Dath knew when his presence was no longer required, and took the opportunity to go out on some errand of his own.
“It is better that your aide not know who we are,” said Galen. “This isn’t Cela, after all.”
“Galen!” cried Barlow, confident that he wouldn’t be overheard. “What are you doing here? You must be mad!”
“Of course,” said Galen, smiling. “But nonetheless, I had to see you. It was only good luck that you’re prefect here.”
“I see,” said Barlow, a little of his enthusiasm dropping away. To the prefect, it was the same old story, one that he had experienced too often, first in Cela, then in Venta. He registered his disappointment that the visit was not purely social, that it had been proven once again that no one ever loved a prefect for himself alone. Barlow moved back behind his desk, behind the official symbol of his power and authority. He stood for a moment, uncomfortably shuffling papers on the desk, staring down at the petty matters that were his life. Then he looked up again at Galen. He sighed; then he sat down and folded his hands on the desk top. “I take it that you’re in trouble again,” he said.
“No,” said Galen, “we’re not.”
“But a friend of ours is,” said Virdon.
“Trouble follows you three,” said Barlow. “Or else you drag it around. Who is it? What kind of trouble?”
“A human,” said Burke. “For riding a horse.”
Barlow rubbed his forehead and sat back wearily. The day had barely begun, and already he was faced with a difficult problem. It seemed that people always came to him expecting that he could pardon their friends and relatives from the most heinous crimes., “Oh, that one,” he said finally, looking from Galen to Burke to Virdon. “I know the case. Yesterday, wasn’t it? He’s in the stocks now. That was Zandar’s doing. I’m not one for locking someone up in those torture devices, myself.”
“He’s a good boy,” said Virdon.
“I don’t doubt it,” said Barlow. “Young Greger. It’s a pity that he’s your friend.” Barlow shook his head with finality. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“But he saved my life!” cried Galen.
“What do you mean, there’s nothing you can do?” asked Burke.
Barlow looked at Burke silently for a long moment. He wished that the impetuous human could trade places with the prefect, just for an hour. “I meant what I said,” murmured Barlow.
“Galen was bitten by a scorpion,” said Burke. “He would have died if Greger hadn’t come into town for the serum. It’s that simple. He broke a law to save an ape’s life.”
Virdon came up to Barlow’s desk. “He did it for one of your own kind!” he said. “It isn’t as though Greger stole a horse to go joy-riding around the countryside. This case has too many extenuating circumstances to let the boy die.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Barlow. ‘I’m helpless against Zandar,”
“If you explained the situation to Zaius—” said Virdon.
Barlow interrupted him. “Do you want me to appeal to Zaius on the grounds that Greger saved the life of an outlaw?”
Burke was becoming impatient. The meeting was not going as he had expected that it would. “You wouldn’t have to tell Zaius that,” he said.
“You don’t know,” said Barlow. “A case like this, I have reports, documents, things that have to be filled out and filed…”
“You could get around all of that if you tried,” said Virdon.
“Don’t you think I’d like to?” asked Barlow, with genuine anguish in his voice. “Do you think I enjoy watching justice and decency ignored in favor of order and paperwork?”
“Of course not!” said Galen. “Barlow, just be reasonable.”
“Be reasonable,” said Barlow in a soft voice. He stood up and went to his window. He looked outside. There were apes lounging along the dusty road. They were there every day, whether there was a race scheduled or not. The apes congregated together, with little to do except make trouble for the humans. And Zandar and the gorilla guards did nothing to stop them. The humans bustled about, trying to avoid any confrontations with the apes. Barlow sympathized with them; what a poor life they had to lead, a life of running and avoiding. Apes like Zandar just aggravated the situation, almost encouraging the others to treat the humans in more degrading ways. And the results of all their cruelty crossed his desk as statistics to be sent to Central City. Sometimes the job was more than Barlow could bear. Dath took some of the burden, but the difficult parts of the job could not be delegated. That was something that Galen and his two human friends would never understand; that despite Barlow’s own private ideas, his public duty remained.
“There was a time when I tried to be reasonable,” he said in a low voice. “Now I’m less reasonable. And more safe.” He turned around and faced them again. “I hate it here,” he said passionately. “I want to go home. There’s a chance that I can—if I keep my record clean.”
“Ah,” said Burke bitterly, “I see.”
Galen looked disappointed. “Is your job more important than Greger’s life?” he asked.
Once more Barlow rubbed his weary eyes. How long would Galen and the humans press him? Why couldn’t they understand something so simple that even Dath comprehended and felt pity? There was a point at which Barlow knew he was no longer the conscience of his world; he had reached that point long ago.
“It isn’t a difficult thing for someone in your position,” said Galen.
“I have some sympathy for humans,” said Barlow with a great deal of ambivalence. “You know that well. But that is for humans when they behave and know their place. The young one is a fool. He deserves punishment.”
“Death!” cried Burke. “For saving Galen’s life?”
“No,” said Barlow. “For breaking a simple but important law. It’s a wonder the horse didn’t kill him. Those laws are made to protect humans, also. Only apes know how to handle horses.”
“I don’t think you really believe that,” said Virdon. “I’ve ridden horses since I was ten years old. That’s just another one of your ancient ape bits of old wives’ nonsense.”
“Humans can’t ride like apes,” said Barlow. “It’s been proven. It has something to do with skeletal structure or something.”
Galen snorted derisively. “From what I’ve heard these last many months, Alan and Pete could have given you quite a long list of things that apes couldn’t do. Where they came from, it was proven, too.”
“If it makes any difference,” said Burke, “I know perso
nally that Alan is as good on a horse as anybody in this world.”
Barlow’s mouth opened, as he began to reply. Neither Galen nor his two astronaut friends had presented Barlow with an adequate answer to the prefect’s challenge. But something made Barlow fall silent once more. He studied the men, thinking. Perhaps, he told himself, perhaps he could use these humans. His attention moved from Virdon and Burke back to Galen.
“I must be certain of some things first,” said Barlow. “Before I make any kind of decision, you have to understand that I am in an extremely vulnerable position. Is he telling the truth?”
Galen smiled. “One thing that I came to learn early in our association is that my friends do not lie,” he said. “Remember that they are not typical humans.”
Barlow nodded distractedly. The beginnings of an idea were forming in his shrewd mind. He didn’t have all the details clear as yet, and he was slightly frustrated and tantalized by the possibilities. He remained silent, and his three guests waited patiently. “Let me put it this way,” said Barlow to Virdon, “I would be better able to judge things if you would be willing to prove your skill is not limited to talk.”
“That seems reasonable,” said Galen.
“I am a cautious ape,” said Barlow.
Virdon remained still for a moment, studying Barlow. “How does this affect Greger?” he asked. “That was the reason we came here.”
Barlow drew himself up, trying to look, like more of an official than a friend. “I am prefect here,” he said. “I will handle this in my own way.”
“There isn’t much time,” said Burke. “And Greger’s not in your best accommodations, either.”
“First, Virdon will ride my horse,” said Barlow. “Then we’ll talk about Greger.”
Barlow, followed by Galen and the two astronauts, went out the back door and along a narrow footpath to a small corral. “That is my horse,” said Barlow. “The brown horse with the black mane in the corner. Its name is Woda.” Human handlers were working with the horse. Virdon saw that it was a high-strung animal, almost unmanageable. The handlers moved cautiously while putting a bridle on it. There was no saddle. Virdon studied Woda closely, his brow creased in a thoughtful expression. Burke looked first at the horse, then at Virdon. He was obviously worried.
Virdon spoke to Barlow. “He’s never been ridden, has he?”
Barlow maintained his poise. He did not want to dupe Virdon into anything, because Barlow was an honorable ape. But, on the other hand, this was a situation out of which Barlow might be able to win valuable rewards. The prefect knew that he had to proceed carefully in order to satisfy both his desires and his sense of honor. “No,” he said blandly, “he’s a killer. No ape has been able to ride him.”
Virdon laughed softly at Barlow’s words. It had seemed in the prefect’s office that this was to be a simple test of Virdon’s riding ability. Virdon could hot understand why the test had to be with a killer horse. After a shrewd, penetrating glance at Barlow, Virdon turned away. His expression was disbelieving, and when he spoke, his voice was calm. “Forget it,” he said.
Galen reacted with surprise. He had not expected his friend to avoid such a challenge as this. Barlow had the same reaction. The prefect frowned. “Then you aren’t the great rider you say you are,” he said. “That makes me unhappy.” Barlow’s half-formed plans seemed to die there.
Virdon turned back to face Barlow. The astronaut could sense that there was more involved here than the question of the human’s riding ability. This test was part of some scheme of Barlow’s, and Virdon decided that he could scheme as well as the prefect. “Give me one good reason why I should risk my neck on a wild horse,” he said.
Barlow’s mouth widened slightly in a brief smile. He knew that Virdon was much more clever than any other human the prefect had known; but nevertheless, he was surprised that Virdon had interpreted the situation so quickly. The time for bargaining had begun. “If you can ride him,” Said Barlow, still hedging against making a commitment, “and break him, I may be very helpful to you.”
“Here it comes,” said Burke.
“Prefect Barlow,” said Galen, “this young human may not mean anything to you, but he saved my life. Are you playing games with us?”
Barlow shook his head. “It isn’t me who’s playing the game.”
Virdon looked at Barlow, and saw that the prefect was perfectly serious. The blond man was convinced that the ape was not merely using Greger as a pawn in some devious intrigue. Virdon looked at Burke, then at Galen. The astronaut and the chimpanzee shrugged. “Well,” said Virdon, “let’s find out what’s going on. There’s only one way to do that.” He turned to Barlow. “All right,” he said. “I’ll give it a try.”
Barlow smiled, evidently very pleased. “I’m glad,” he said. “I had a feeling that you would.”
“I had a feeling that you had that feeling,” said Burke.
Barlow went up to the corral and called to the horse handlers. “Put a saddle on Woda,” he shouted. The handlers nodded.
“I’ll bet your workmen out there are happy about having to put a saddle on a killer horse,” said Burke.
“They’re good handlers,” said Barlow. “They know how to protect themselves.”
“Don’t talk like that,” said Galen. “It makes me worry for Alan.”
“Don’t worry,” said Virdon, “I know what I’m doing, too.”
“I hope so,” said Barlow.
The handlers saddled Woda and brought the angry horse to the fence. Virdon climbed the fence and touched the horse’s face, then the top of its head, letting Woda nuzzle his arm and get used to his smell. After a while, Virdon began to climb into the saddle. The horse reared; as Woda brought its forelegs down, Virdon slid into the saddle. Woda reared again, nearly unseating Virdon; the blond man was halfway on, but he forced himself into riding position. The handlers prepared to move away. Virdon made a final check of the saddle and bridle. He was all set.
“Let him go!” cried Virdon. The handlers backed away, and Virdon was alone on Woda. The ride was on.
Woda bucked and rolled, trying to dislodge the unpleasant weight on his back. Virdon, who had ridden unbroken horses many times in his childhood and youth, could almost predict what the animal would try next. He shifted his weight and grasped with his legs. Woda snorted fiercely, but Virdon would not be shaken off. When Woda realized this after a time, he stopped bucking and began running. Horse and rider sped across the corral, over the fence, and across the fields in a dead run.
“I don’t believe it,” murmured Burke.
“But you said that Alan was the best rider in the world,” said Galen.
“I was just saying,” said Burke. “I wasn’t necessarily believing.”
“Now you tell me,” said Galen.
They watched as Virdon, using the reins, began to guide Woda around the fields, so that the run was no longer a blind, half-mad dash but a controlled gallop.
After a few minutes, when it became evident to those watching Virdon that the astronaut had the horse completely under his command, Burke, Galen, and Barlow were too astonished and elated to speak. As he flashed by the corral, Virdon managed a small smile of satisfaction; he was too busy to speak. Gradually, the exertions took their toll, and Woda slowed down. Virdon let the animal canter about the area, and then walked the horse back toward the corral. The handlers took the hard-breathing Woda. Barlow jumped down inside the corral and ran up to his horse; the prefect threw his arms around Woda’s neck. “What a beautiful animal!” said Barlow.
“Have you asked yourself why none of the ape riders were able to do that?” asked Burke.
Barlow turned to Virdon. “That was good riding,” he said. “For a human,” he added, in a sly voice.
Virdon looked briefly at Burke. Burke just shook his head. “Thanks,” said the blond man to the ape. “I’m glad you were watching.”
“I don’t think I ever saw a horse go so fast in my life,” said Barlow. �
�It was really amazing.”
“He is a beautiful horse,” said Virdon, turning and walking toward the fence where his friends sat.
“Tired?” asked Galen.
“I’m a little winded,” admitted Virdon. “But I haven’t had a ride like that in years. It was terrific.”
“I’m still amazed,” said Barlow.
“Maybe that’s because you’ve never seen a human jockey before,” said Burke.
“Jockey,” said Barlow, musing. “Why did you say ‘jockey’ and not ‘rider’?”
“Because anyone can ride a horse,” said Burke. “But a jockey knows horses.”
“Exactly,” said Barlow. “I was thinking much the same thing while I watched Virdon put on his excellent display. Now, I have a proposition for you. It ought to be clear that there are things that I want, and I’m perfectly willing to help you, if you’ll help me. You know me well enough to realize that I’ll stick to my word.”
“Of course,” said Galen.
“We’re not questioning that,” said Virdon. “What’s the deal?”
“I’ve been challenged to a race,” said Barlow, his expression becoming suddenly intent and serious. “I’m to put up my best horse against the fastest horse in this territory. I want you to ride Woda.”
Barlow’s announcement hit like a bolt of lightning. There was only stunned silence for several seconds, as the three fugitives considered what the prefect had said. Galen was the first of the three to speak up. “He can’t ride in a race,” said the young chimpanzee. “He’d be seen. Humans aren’t allowed to ride.”
Barlow knew that fact as well as anyone. He nodded. “Well,” he said, his voice suddenly that of a person formulating a deception or suggesting a conspiracy, “I do have some influence with Zaius. Not a great deal, but enough so that he would listen to my request. I think that I could get him to make an exception, for a single race. What do you say?”
