by Titan Books
“Then what are you guarding?” asked Galen.
“Him,” said the gorilla. There was another silence. Galen silently cursed the gorilla’s stupidity.
“Why?” asked Galen.
“He’s to be shot when the race is over.”
“I see,” said Galen, gritting his teeth. The gorilla just wouldn’t see the point Galen was trying to make.
“You could shoot me now,”, said Greger.
“Urko wouldn’t approve of that,” said the guard.
Galen knew that he was going to have to lead the gorilla to the proper insight, hand in hand, like he would lead a child through its lessons. “I commend you on your sense of duty,” he said. “It isn’t every guard who would miss the big race just to watch a prisoner who couldn’t possibly get away.”
“Thank you,” said the gorilla.
Galen was about to give up. The gorilla was hopeless. The chimpanzee nodded and was about to start off. Just as he was leaving, he saw light dawn in the guard’s expression. Galen thought that it was about time. “Wait a minute,” said the gorilla. “What you just said. I can come back when the race ends. I don’t have to stay here. No one would know.”
“That’s true,” said Galen.
“Thank you,” said the gorilla. Taking his rifle, he hurried away, toward the grandstand and the race.
Galen waited for the guard to go far enough away so that Galen might speak to Greger without fear of being overheard. The chimpanzee stepped up to Greger, who looked up gratefully. “You saved my life,” said Galen softly. “You can be sure we’ve not forgotten you.”
“I appreciate it,” said Greger, “but there’s nothing that you can do, or your friends.”
“Barlow has arranged to free you if his horse wins the race,” said Galen. “Alan is riding him and he won’t lose. Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” said Greger. “But my back hurts an awful lot.”
Galen laughed quietly at the boy’s remark; the human had more courage than most apes, including Urko. “I will see you later,” said Galen. “After the race.” He hurried away toward the grandstand, where Virdon and Burke waited.
* * *
The grandstand was filled to capacity. The crowd was excited and noisy. It was segregated, because even with Barlow’s relaxed attitude toward humans, the different members of his little domain felt more comfortable with their own kind. Apes sat in the front section of the stands, and the humans were in the back. Barlow himself sat in the front row, nervous and worried. Beside him sat Zandar and his gorillas. There was a murmur through the crowd as Urko arrived.
“Well, Barlow,” said Urko, “we’ve come to the moment of truth.”
“Not quite,” said Barlow mildly. “The moment of truth is at the finish line.”
Urko granted. “In the matter of these races,” he said, “I have come to look on the actual running as mere formality.”
“It gives the day its tone,” said Barlow, trying to appear unconcerned. He did not fool Urko. Both apes looked down toward the starting line, where an official stood with a flag, waiting to signal both the start and finish of the race.
“For this race,” said Urko, “it’s at the starting line.” He appeared to have ignored Barlow’s remark. That irritated the prefect, but he said nothing. Urko went on. “I learned a long time ago that I dislike losing,” said the gorilla. “As a result, I make a habit of winning.”
“That’s a difficult habit to form,” said Barlow. “After all, you’re at the mercy of so many other factors.”
“I try not to be,” said Urko coldly.
“I thought the enjoyment of a race depended on being unsure of the outcome,” said Barlow.
“For some individuals,” said Urko. “But try not to worry about my enjoying myself. I expect to have a marvelous time. Ah, there are the horses.”
Barlow was surprised by Urko’s announcement. He looked down the track and, sure enough, the jockeys were riding their horses up to the starting line. Barlow felt a queasy feeling. He thought there was more time before the race actually began. He would have liked to have postponed the whole thing indefinitely.
Urko’s horse, which was called Tusan, was ridden by a gorilla named Kagan. Martin led Woda; the animal was nervous and prancing. Between the horses and the starting line was the water-filled hole dug by Burke. It looked like a broad puddle. Kagan steered Urko’s horse around the hole.
Urko turned to Barlow curiously. “I see your horse,” he said, “but where is your wonderful human jockey?”
The general’s question made Barlow look down the track fearfully. Could it be that Virdon had decided at the last minute not to risk the danger?
“There’s still the official call,” said Barlow.
“It would be a shame to be disappointed,” said Urko, echoing Barlow’s thoughts. “I had so wanted to see a human matched against my Kagan. I will say your horse is beautiful. A little high-strung for my tastes, though. Perhaps badly broken.”
“Woda is a very good horse,” said Barlow distractedly, searching the track for Virdon.
“What was your jockey’s name?” asked Urko.
“I’m sure he’ll be here,” said the prefect. “There’s time. The race doesn’t start for a little while.”
“I don’t mind if he doesn’t appear,” said Urko, smiling his mirthless smile. “I’ve no objections to winning by default.” Urko’s words did nothing to improve Barlow’s depressed mood.
Martin led Woda past a small storage hut at the side of the grandstand, almost to the water hole which was filled with mud. Martin stopped, but Woda pranced around in obvious agitation. Martin took a deep breath; so much of his life would be decided within the next few minutes. He felt helpless.
Nearby, at the side of the hut, Virdon, Burke, and Galen stood together, out of sight of the crowd in the grandstand. They saw the pained expression on Martin’s face. “I really pity that guy,” said Burke. “I’d hate to have to go through what he’s going through.”
‘I’d hate to have to go through what his son is going through, as well,” said Galen, thinking of young Greger imprisoned in the stocks.
“I might remind you that our part isn’t the most enjoyable, either,” said Virdon, watching the movement of Barlow’s horse with a critical eye.
“I’m glad it’s you and not me,” said Burke.
Virdon hardly heard. He was still observing Woda. “I don’t like the way that horse is acting,” he said.
“I don’t like anything about this race!” said Burke.
Martin heard the faint conversation of his three friends, but he did not turn around to acknowledge their presence. He knew that he had betrayed them, but he knew as well that his son’s safety was more important. He felt guilty, but helpless. He had had no real alternatives. He looked away from Virdon and concentrated on steadying Woda.
Galen moved away a little and peeked around the corner of the grandstand, to make sure that everything was safe. All attention was focused on the horses. Galen looked back. “This is probably as good a time as any, Alan,” he said. Virdon nodded.
“You better take off first, Galen,” said Burke. “Get in position in back of the stands, and be sure you time things right. Roll that spool just as Alan rides past Urko.”
“I hope you two have this worked out,” said Virdon. ‘I’m counting on everything to happen just the way we’ve planned. I wish we’d had time for a rehearsal.”
“Don’t worry, Alan,” said Burke.
“I’ll watch carefully,” said Galen. “It’s not that difficult; everything will happen right on schedule. I don’t know how you can be careful, Alan, but… be careful.”
“I plan to be,” said Virdon.
Galen nodded and left. Virdon was still looking at Woda.
“What’s wrong, Alan?” asked Burke.
“Look,” said the blond astronaut. Burke followed Virdon’s eyes. He saw Martin trying to calm the agitated horse.
“I don’t know,” said Burke. “You’re the horse expert here. Woda just looks anxious to get going.”
“No,” said Virdon, “that’s not it. There’s something wrong with that horse.”
“Something that could foul up the race?” asked Burke.
“I don’t know,” said Virdon. “I wouldn’t be able to tell without examining the horse.”
Burke looked at the animal worriedly. “There’s too much at stake,” he said. “If you have any doubts, let’s call it off.”
“How can we call it off?” asked Virdon. “Maybe Woda is just nervous. This is the first time he’s been near a crowd. Well, we’ll find out what’s wrong soon enough. I’ll see you after the race, Pete. You better hurry if you want to get your two dollars down on me.”
“Look,” said Burke. Virdon waited, but his friend said nothing more.
Virdon laughed and started to walk away. “Yeah,” he said, “I know.”
“Alan,” said Burke. Once more, Virdon stopped and turned around. “Alan, be careful.”
“You, too?” said Virdon, smiling.
“Yeah,” said Burke, “me, too. What else can I say? That I’ll miss your cooking if you get shot? Look, pal, you’re the only other guy around here I can really talk to. I don’t want to be the only ex-astronaut in the world. My booking agent says there’s no market these days. No colleges, so no college lecture dates. I’d have to get a job as a slave or something. So, uh, be careful.”
Virdon just shook his head and clapped Burke on the shoulder. Then, without saying a word, he hurried off toward the horse. He just couldn’t say goodbye.
Virdon, alone, head down, walked to where Martin held Woda. Carefully, the man kept the horse’s body between himself and the grandstand, so no one there could get a good look at him. Once on the horse’s back, he tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, by hunching low over the horse’s neck. Martin handed Virdon the reins.
Burke watched all of this, his stomach tight and painful from the nervousness he was feeling. He felt alone, but he knew that Virdon was feeling virtually naked and defenseless in front of Urko and a grandstand filled with hostile apes. Silently, Burke uttered a short prayer.
Virdon pulled back on the reins gently, but that caused Woda to whinny and dance even more. Virdon couldn’t understand what was wrong; the horse had never acted that way before. Martin watched nervously.
In the stands, also watching, Urko was growing more complacent and arrogant, while Barlow became increasingly more unhappy. The two apes stared at the nervous horse, each possessed by his private thoughts, each the very opposite of the other.
Virdon and Woda moved around the mudhole. Virdon appeared to be trying to rein the horse away from the hole, but Burke and Galen knew better. Suddenly, the horse reared. Virdon was thrown, landing in the deep mud. There was an immediate reaction from the grandstand; the apes laughed hilariously, and the humans sat glumly.
Virdon knelt in the mud for a moment, evidently a bit dazed and disoriented. In the stands, Urko laughed delightedly. “He’s a great rider, all right,” cried the gorilla. “What a jockey, your human! He can’t even sit on a horse!”
Virdon clambered out of the mudhole, covered with mud from head to foot. He was absolutely unrecognizable. He walked in a kind of stunned arc toward Woda, reaching for the reins. One of the gorillas shouted, “Put him in an oven and we’ll have a clay pot by dinner time!” Virdon did not react. He stood beside his horse, getting his bearings.
Burke watched the show from his place of concealment by the hut. For the first time, he showed some relief from the tension that had gripped him. He called out to Virdon in a low voice. “Great work, Alan,” he said. “That’ll do it! Terrific! Your own mother wouldn’t recognize you now.” He wished that he felt as confident as he sounded.
Virdon grinned, rather foolishly, as had been planned. Without wiping any of the mud from his body or face, he mounted the nervous horse again. The animal began to misbehave badly, rearing and twisting almost as if it had never been broken. Burke, although he knew little about horses, could sense that there was more wrong than simple nervousness.
Virdon felt that, too, from his place on Woda’s back. There was something about the way Woda was acting that seemed suspicious to him. Woda sashayed back from the starting line. Near the shed again, Virdon arrived at a decision. He dismounted and led the horse backward by the reins. Virdon knew it was dangerous to interfere with the carefully plotted-out schedule. Still, he wanted to be certain that his horse had not been tampered with.
Kagan, on Urko’s horse, watched the entire process. He was laughing heartily, as were many of the spectators, ape and human alike.
Virdon walked toward Burke, still holding Woda’s reins. The horse was no longer rearing, but he was still plainly nervous. Burke ran toward Virdon. Martin walked toward them, his face blank and expressionless.
“What’s the trouble?” asked Burke.
“Hold him,” said Virdon to the blacksmith.
Martin took the reins and tried to calm the horse. Woda just wouldn’t settle down. Virdon took one of the horse’s legs and looked at the hoof. Burke stood by, silently, waiting for Virdon’s decision.
“Oh, man,” said Virdon softly.
“What is it?” asked Burke in frustration. “Come on, Alan, tell me.”
Virdon just pointed. A metal wedge had been driven between the horseshoe and the hoof. “Here,” said Virdon. “This is what’s wrong.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Burke. “Who could have done it? Woda hasn’t been out of our sight all day. When we weren’t with him, Martin was in charge. None of Urko’s gorillas could have gotten near him.” Suddenly, a light seemed to flicker in Burke’s eyes. He turned abruptly and glanced at Martin. The blacksmith dropped Woda’s reins, looking almost unbearably guilty. The man started to back away in fear.
Burke whirled away from Virdon’s side and rushed toward Martin. Virdon caught Woda’s reins as Martin turned to run. Before he could get away, Burke caught him and shook him fiercely. “Are you trying to kill Alan or your own son?” he cried.
“It was to save him!” said Martin, moaning.
A strange voice interrupted the scene. “Get ready for the start!” shouted the official.
“You’re crazy!” said Burke.
“It was all that I could do,” said Martin, once again close to tears. “It was the best thing for everyone. Urko has too much power. He makes you do what he wants.”
Virdon wasn’t listening to Martin’s almost incoherent speech. The official had already called for the start of the race. Time was short. “Martin!” he said. “Give me some kind of tool to get these out! Hurry!”
Martin just stared dumbly. Burke had to shake him roughly to get a response. The astronaut was just about to slap Martin back to reality, when the blacksmith gasped. “I… haven’t got… tools…” he said weakly.
Martin shook his head despairingly. Burke released the poor man and rushed to help Virdon. “Here, Alan,” said Burke, drawing the crude knife he carried. “I don’t know if this will do you any good, but it’s better than digging those wedges out with your fingernails.”
“Thanks, Pete,” said Virdon.
“I’m sorry,” said Martin in the background. For the moment, neither of the astronauts paid him any attention.
Virdon still held Woda’s hoof. “I think you’d better have a try at digging it out,” he said. “I can hold the hoof steady and calm the horse.”
“All right,” said Burke, “but I don’t want to get stepped on.”
“You won’t,” said Virdon.
In the stands, Urko was becoming impatient. He couldn’t see what was happening by the storage shed. “What’s holding up the race?” he asked. He was just about to detail a gorilla guard to check.
Barlow, imagining all sorts of things, had worked himself into a genuine panic. “Races never start on time,” he said. “You ought to know that by now.”
&nbs
p; “This one does,” said Urko in a mean voice.
“Be patient,” said Barlow.
Urko ignored the prefect. The gorilla stood up and shouted down to the official. “Start the race!” he cried. “No more delays!”
The official stood at the starting line. He was caught between the unusual situation with Woda and the anger of Urko. The official knew which was more to be feared. “Bring your horse to the starting line!” he shouted to Virdon.
Virdon and Burke were working on another hoof. “Got it!” said Burke triumphantly. “One more to go.”
“That’s it, Pete,” muttered Virdon.
Burke wrenched the final wedge out and dropped it to the ground. “I got it,” he said. “I don’t want to do this again. Ever. Next time, we’ll take the train.”
“I promise,” said Virdon.
The official stood with, his hand raised. Near him, a gorilla stood with his rifle aimed into the air, awaiting the signal to start the race. Kagan sat on Tusan at the starting line, poised for the race.
Urko was growing more furious in the stands. He stood up again. “I said start!” he bellowed.
The official was not prepared to disagree. “Go!” he cried. He dropped his hand, the gorilla fired the rifle, and Kagan spurred Tusan forward.
The crowd made a great roar as Urko’s horse sprang forward along the race course. Behind the stands, Galen stood waiting for his cue, holding his notched spool and a length of string. He moved into place surreptitiously.
Virdon leaped on Woda as soon as he untangled the reins. Without a word, he kicked the horse onward to join the race. There was a cry from the stands.
Kagan was well past the stands, on his way toward the large tree that marked the mid-point of the race. Virdon, on Woda, approached the starting line. Barlow stood up and cheered the horse and rider. Urko glared, making no noise at all. In the stands, the apes shouted for Kagan and Tusan, the humans rooted for Woda and his nameless jockey.
Galen moved up closer to the rows of apes. He was not noticed by the humans as he moved among them. As he walked, he prepared his spool and string noisemaker, as Burke had shown him.
