by Titan Books
Virdon and Burke soon discovered that apes ruled the world and that humans had been reduced to a status only slightly above other animals. No official record remained of the time when human beings ruled the Earth. Yet once in a while, Virdon and Burke discovered scraps of their old lives, unofficial evidence that threw the highest ape leaders into a constant state of doubt and fear. For this reason, Virdon and Burke, potential leaders of a human slave revolt, were hunted across the face of the changed world.
It was a happy coincidence that brought the astronauts and Galen together. They had much to learn from each other, and all three shared a growing friendship and mutual respect. They also shared many adventures as they sought to avoid capture by the gorilla police and their leader, General Urko.
Galen, Virdon, and Burke were enjoying a quiet period after their weeks of fugitive running. They were staying with humans of their acquaintance, two brothers named Mikal and Janor. The five of them were bagging grain. The grain had been harvested and the edible portions had been separated from the rest. In front of the farm’s small barn, Janor and Mikal shoveled the grain from a large pile into gunnysacks; the astronauts and their chimpanzee companion closed and tied the filled sacks and stacked them in another pile.
“This is hard work, sure enough,” said Janor, the older brother, “but it is much easier when you have friends to make the time go quicker.”
Janor was large and extremely muscular. He was generally quiet and not easily aroused. To those who didn’t know him well, he seemed docile.
He put down his shovel and walked over to the pile of bulging sacks. Janor walked with a limp, the result of an injury he had sustained years before.
“We‘re just glad to be able to repay you for your hospitality,” said Galen.
“Hospitality that must be paid for isn’t hospitality,” said Mikal. He was a smaller man than his brother, but no less fit. His fiery disposition was the direct opposite of Janor’s quiet nature.
“Well,” said Galen, “what I meant was—”
“Wait a minute,” said Alan Virdon. “Look.” He stopped his work and pointed toward the road that ran past the brothers’ farm. In the distance, coming around a gradual curve in the road, was a group of mounted gorillas, uniformed and armed with rifles. One gorilla evidently the leader, rode ahead; after a moment it became clear to the human observers that behind him trailed a wagon driven by an enlisted soldier.
Mikal turned to his brother Janor with an expression of disgust and hatred on his face. “Those are Aboro’s troops, for sure,” he said. He made no attempt to conceal his seething emotions.
Janor turned to Virdon, Burke, and Galen. “Quick,” he cried. “Get into the barn. As long as our grain is out here, they won’t bother going inside.”
It didn’t take the two astronauts and their chimpanzee companion long to understand Janor’s meaning. They made for the barn’s interior, stopped to take one quick look back, and then disappeared inside. Mikal and Janor knew that there was no use in pretending to work. They turned to face the oncoming wagon and rider.
As Daku, the police lieutenant, rode up, he pulled back tightly on his horse’s reins. The animal made a grunting sound and pranced, but Daku’s firmness on the reins held the animal in check. He contemptuously stopped the horse as close to the two farmers as he could, looking down on Mikal and Janor with scorn. He took a list from a saddlebag and consulted it for a moment.
“This, I suppose,” said Daku in a bored and haughty voice, “is what one might call the farm of Mikal and Janor, humans permitted by the graciousness of the ape government to pursue their pitiable activities.” He checked off the names on the list and turned toward the gorilla who had alighted from the wagon behind Daku.
“Shall I begin, Lieutenant?” asked the soldier.
Daku looked supremely contemptuous. Even though the soldier was another gorilla, a beast incomparably superior to the lowly humans in the farmyard, Daku could not restrain his natural impatience. “Yes, Hosson,” he said to the driver, “you may begin. If you didn’t begin, we would be here for the greater part of the day. And this isn’t the most pleasant place to spend the greater part of the day, is it, Hosson?”
The driver was chastized. “No, sir,” he said. “No, Lieutenant. I’ll begin.”
“Begin what?” asked Mikal; his voice was filled with its accustomed hostility toward the ape rulers.
Daku’s eyes gave a quick flick toward Mikal, barely noticing the existence of the human. There was no attention paid to Mikal’s reasonable question. There was no intention on Daku’s part to answer. Instead, the ape leader returned his eyes to the list he held in his hands. “Begin loading the grain,” he said to Hosson. “And don’t waste half the day doing it, either.”
“Yes, Lieutenant Daku,” said the driver.
In silence the two farmers watched the beginning of this now-familiar drama. In silence they watched as Hosson ambled clumsily toward the pile of loose grain and the sacks of already bagged grain. There seemed to be nothing to do; that was the situation on the ape world, particularly where its human inhabitants were concerned.
Hosson walked over to the stacked sacks of grain and lifted one with a loud grunt. Even for the muscular gorilla, it was heavy. He carried the sack to the wagon and threw it in the back. Three more trips he made; three more sacks of grain joined the first in the gorilla’s crude vehicle.
“All right,” shouted Mikal. Janor tried to hold his impetuous brother back, but it was already too late. Daku’s evil eyes jerked toward Mikal.
“That’s enough!” Mikal shouted. “You’ve taken enough! How much do you want?”
“Well,” said Daku imperturbably, “I have this list. And as much as this list says, well, that’s how much I take. And, oftentimes, because of my special police powers, I can tell the list how much it says. If you know what I mean.”
Hosson pushed Mikal roughly out of the way; there was a minor scuffle, but Mikal quickly backed off. Any show of force against an ape meant instant death. Meanwhile, Daku was urging Hosson to load more of the grain onto the wagon.
“No more!” cried Janor; even he at last realized the extent of the gorillas’ thievery. “You have already taken more than you’ve ever taken before!”
“This time,” said Daku evenly, hatefully, “we are taking it all.”
“There’ll be nothing left for us…” said Mikal, his voice trailing off into hopelessness.
In the barn, Virdon, Burke, and Galen watched angrily but helplessly. Many times in the past they had witnessed similar scenes of cruelty and savagery by the apes. It had been rare indeed that the three companions had been able to do anything to stop it. Now, the situation appeared beyond salvation. The two astronauts and their chimpanzee friend rested at full length on the floor of the barn’s loft, peering down through a partially boarded-up window. They watched as Mikal hotheadedly stormed toward the gorilla soldiers, attempting to wrest a sack of the grain from the hands of Hosson. At this, Daku could control his arrogant contempt no longer. The human would have to be punished for his actions. From his place astride his horse, Daku drew his rifle, urged his horse closer to Mikal, and slammed the butt of the weapon against Mikal’s head. Mikal collapsed immediately and lay on the ground without moving. There was a muffled gasp from Galen in the barn. From Virdon and Burke there was only worried silence. It seemed to all three that Mikal might be seriously injured, possibly even dead. Still, there was nothing for lie three fugitives to do.
Janor moved a few steps forward toward his stricken brother, but stopped as Daku and Hosson both raised their rifles toward him. Burke half-raised his tall, dark-haired form from his hidden position in the barn until Galen placed a restraining arm on the astronaut’s shoulder. “This is no time to be playing hero, Pete!” whispered the chimpanzee.
Below them, in the farmyard, Mikal had risen to his feet, stunned and somewhat dazed by the blow from Daku’s rifle.
“Be thankful,” said Daku haughtily. “
I could have just as easily shot you both for attacking a member of the police.”
“Why—” began Mikal angrily, rubbing the sore and bleeding area where he had been struck. His brother caught his arm and silenced him once again.
“Why didn’t I?” finished Daku. “It didn’t seem to me to be worth the expense of the rifle shells, at the time.” The police lieutenant turned his attention carelessly away from the humans and back to Hosson. “Hurry it up!” he cried at the luckless soldier.
“I’m doing the best that I can, Lieutenant,” said Hosson in a near whimper. “These sacks are heavier than they look.”
“And you are weaker than you look,” said Daku. “If that’s the best you can do, maybe we should have had these human scum load their own grain onto the wagon, except that they could hardly be trusted.”
“I’m all finished, Lieutenant,” said Hosson.
“Wonderful,” said Daku sarcastically. “I’m very proud. Once again we’ve demonstrated the overwhelming superiority of the simian race. My gorilla, Hosson, has accomplished what the two humans, working together, might have done in a quarter of the time.”
Hosson tossed the final sack of grain onto the wagon. Left behind was only a scattering of loose grain, already beginning to disperse in the light breeze that blew across the courtyard. The remaining grain was too coarse, too unfit, and too unplentiful to be bagged by the brothers. The gorillas ignored it, but Mikal and Janor stared at it with almost unbearable sadness. It was all that remained of the labors of their entire spring and summer. And for the future…
Hosson leaped into his seat at the front of the wagon and gathered up the reins. Daku wheeled his horse around, his business completed, his mind already considering the next human farm, the next collection of grain.
“Move out!” called Daku. “We’ve got more farms to visit and the day is already half gone.” He turned again and faced the two farmers, who stood dejected and helpless in their farmyard. Daku frowned. “I will be back next month,” he warned.
“Next month?” cried Janor. It seemed impossible. What was left?
Daku eyed the scattering pile of grain significantly. “With luck,” he said maliciously, “I have left you enough grain for one meal every two or three days!” His laughter was an evil thing to hear, and the three fugitives hidden in the barn did not miss the ringing notes of mockery which Daku failed to conceal. At last, the police lieutenant wheeled his horse around and followed Hosson and the wagon back onto the road.
As soon as the wagon and lone rider were out of sight, Virdon led Burke and Galen in a dash from their place of concealment in the barn. Their only concern was for the well-being of their friends; they gave no thought to being discovered by the ape patrol.
“Are you okay, Mikal?” shouted Virdon, as he crossed the distance between them.
Mikal turned to face his friends, his expression one of mixed anger and helplessness. He only nodded, one hand still pressed to the place where Daku had slugged him. “I’m fine, I guess,” he said. “I’ll live. Maybe.” He looked around the farmyard. Burke, Virdon, and Galen gazed with him.
“They have left us only enough to starve on,” said Janor, his voice heavy with bitterness.
“Surely the grain tax can’t be this heavy—” began Galen.
“What tax?” asked Burke with heavy cynicism. “It looked like a plain, old-fashioned shakedown to me.”
Janor nodded his head in agreement. “Aboro takes what he wants, when he wants it. He calls it payment for his protection.”
Burke snorted derisively. “You’d think that after a couple of thousand years, they’d come up with a new name for that racket.”
“People will be people,” said Virdon sadly, shaking his blond head.
“Alan,” said Galen admonishingly.
“Yeah,” said Virdon, “and apes will be apes.”
“Every farmer in the district must pay,” said Mikal, spitting into the dust as a token of his hatred.
“Aboro…” said Galen. “Was that the gorilla on horseback?”
“No,” said Mikal, “that’s his lieutenant, Daku. Aboro is police chief of the district. He calls himself ‘Lord of the Apes.’ He has pretty much his own way out here in the far country.”
“The rumor is that Aboro trades the grain for gold, but so far there’s been no proof. Even General Urko wouldn’t stand for one of his underlings taking graft like that,” said Janor. “Urko doesn’t have any love for humans, but he knows enough to keep from getting us into a mood for fighting back.”
“You’re right, there,” said Virdon thoughtfully. “The problem is how to get the apes working against each other without getting the humans caught in the middle.”
“The humans are caught in the middle,” said Mikal angrily. “We always have been, and we always will be.”
“Not always,” said Burke, but his voice was so low that only Galen could hear him. The curious chimpanzee’s brow furled in thought, but he said nothing.
Janor walked to the well nearby and the others trailed after him. For a long moment each was lost in his own thoughts. There was a tense silence as Janor drew water and took a long drink. He offered the water around to the others. Virdon took the wooden ladle and drank deeply himself. Then he spoke.
“That wagon,” said Virdon thoughtfully. “It had so much grain in it. A man could almost keep up with it, if he were walking fast enough.”
Burke stroked his chin where a brown beard might have once been. “Yeah,” he said in an excited voice, “I was coming to the same conclusion. A good runner could probably pass the wagon by.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” said Virdon. “That’s what you were thinking. That makes for a pleasant agreement.”
Galen spoke up worriedly. “Not precisely unanimous, however,” he said. “I fail to see how a race, even if one could be arranged through the woods and the twisting trails, would help our friends here.”
“Oh, that’s your trouble, Galen,” said Burke, laughing. “You just don’t think human enough.”
“Once again, for the thousandth time,” said Galen, “I thank you humbly for that verdict.”
“Anyway,” said Virdon, “we weren’t thinking of a race. We had more of, oh, an ambush in mind.”
“Right,” said Burke. “It amazes me how alike we think.”
“We had the same basic training,” reminded Virdon.
“Did they teach you deceit and cunning there?” asked Janor with some amusement.
There was silence for a moment. “Yeah,” said Burke, “I guess they did.” Everyone stared at him for a moment more; then all broke into amused smiles.
“All right,” said Virdon briskly. “First things first. Any idea where Daku will go next?” He looked toward Mikal, who was still rubbing his throbbing head.
“Probably to Darog’s farm,” said Mikal. “It will take them about two hours’ ride from here, particularly in the overloaded wagon that Daku’s driver is leading.”
“Good,” said Virdon. “Now, are there woods the wagon will have to go through, like the ones around your farm here?”
“Yes,” said Janor quickly. “The Great Forest. It’s much larger, much denser. Why?”
“Because—” said Burke.
“Because,” said Virdon, “that’s where well be waiting for them!”
“We’re coming with you!” cried Mikal.
“No!” said Virdon, his voice cold and commanding.
Janor protested the astronaut’s simple decision. “But this is our fight, Virdon—not yours! We can’t let you handle all of our battles for us. We have pride, we have anger, and we have our self-respect.”
“Look,” said Virdon forcefully, trying to convince the aroused brothers, “if they catch us, well, we’ve been on borrowed time for quite a while anyway. We’ve been through this routine before, and I figure we must be getting good at it, or else we wouldn’t even be here. But you two, you’ve worked hard for your farm. If they catch you, w
hat happens?”
The answer came swiftly and chillingly from Mikal. “Death,” he said in a sullen voice.
Burke took another drink of water and offered the ladle around again. There were no takers. “Our defense rests,” he said.
* * *
The light which filtered down through the thick foliage of the trees was unlike the bright, warm sunlight that had bathed the three friends at the farm of Mikal and Janor. Burke, Virdon, and Galen had followed their scheme and secreted themselves in a part of the Great Forest, following the directions given them by the brothers. Virdon stood alone alongside the grassy lane that wound its way through the forest, a coiled rope in one hand. He stood unmoving, looking to one side. High above his head, Burke and Galen, only half-hidden by the leaves of a large tree limb, also stared in the direction from which they expected company momentarily. Suddenly Galen stiffened. His superior sense of hearing picked up a new and disturbing sound. “Someone’s coming!” he called down to Virdon.
Virdon signaled that he understood, then made another sign that the two in the tree should retire further, to conceal themselves. Burke and Galen disappeared. Virdon stepped quickly behind another tree. There was a long, tense moment. Virdon waited, poised, his muscles almost aching. Then he, too, heard the sound. It was the noise of someone running. That was wrong. They were waiting for the distinctive clopping of horse’s hooves and the creaking of a wagon. Then, just in Virdon’s line of sight, into the small clearing the three fugitives had chosen, came Mikal. Panting from near exhaustion, he stopped and looked around. This was the area he had described in detail to Virdon. When the astronaut appeared silently from his hiding place, Mikal whirled in near panic.
“Mikal!” cried Virdon, almost angrily. “What are you doing here?”
“You know,” said Mikal. “I’ve come to join you.”
Burke had followed the whole scene from above and leaned out along the tree limb. He, too, was upset by Mikal’s appearance. “No way, man!” he called down. “We’ve already been through all of that at least a dozen times.”
