Road to Rhohas – Chapter 3
"So ya actually been to this town, Galen, or just know of it through your relation by marriage?" Pete continued their conversation. After his earlier blow-up, he made a point of bringing out the affable Pete, the 'not-a-care-in-the-world' Pete. The guy he shoved out from behind the curtain to take center stage keeping the spotlight away from that other guy who shared his skin. The one left over after Wanda and Urko were done. It wasn't just for Galen and Alan—mindless chatter helped keep the jumbled memory flashes behind the curtain as well.
"Oh yes. I spent a fortnight there completing a university project. Gressa's husband, Osmur, was newly assigned and it was the perfect opportunity for me to explore life on the Borderlands from the comfort of a soft bed and meals served daily. Gressa is a fine cook. All of us will have to watch our waistlines." The chimpanzee patted his stomach jokingly before he froze with a meaningful glance in Pete's direction for inadvertently revisiting the morning argument.
Pete side-stepped it with a grin, asking, "Is this going to be one of those deals where you get the soft bed and home-cooked meals while Alan and I enjoy gruel served in a bucket in the barn?"
"Only the finest gruel for my friends," Galen chirped, the tension dropping from his shoulders. Pete felt the strain rising in his as he sought to keep it light for their sakes. He leaned past his ape companion, who took the middle position as they walked, and rubbed at his chin as he glanced at the colonel who had been quiet through most of the banter.
"Tell ya what, Al, I'll take the upper loft as long as you find another place to throw down your blanket when I hang my tie on the stable door."
Alan chuckled at the image. He realized this was about as close as Pete was going to get to smooth things over between them, even though he felt he was the one who owed an apology. He hated to even bring it up now for fear of opening the proverbial can of worms. Since his junior officer let it go, he thought it best that he do the same.
"Do I even want to know?" Galen queried.
"No," Alan assured him with a tap to his shoulder. "Suffice it say, once Pete starts flashin' those dimples of his, I'll be forced to find a permanent place out on my own to bed down."
"Well, there are lots of places near the river to camp, but I would suggest a bedroll rather than a bed-down?" the chimp offered. Both Pete and Alan laughed. He assumed that he had 'missed the joke' again, but it felt good to have them joking, even if it was at his expense. "We should probably come in from the east side anyway. We won't be arriving until later tomorrow, and we will need to do our… re-con…," Galen still found his friend's words odd in his mouth, "before approaching Gressa and Osmur. There is a great deal of activity west of the town with the garrison and the mines in that direction."
Galen stuttered-stepped with another quick glance at his dark-haired companion. The chimp hoped to skirt around that conversation, too, avoiding the argument stemming from the bleak conditions of the human laborers in the mines that had agitated his friend. Pete wandered to the edge of the road, grabbing a stalk of grass to shove into his mouth. He was well aware, and frustrated, that his friends were treating him like glass, like he could break any moment—not that he hadn't given them some cause for concern with his recent outbursts. As much as anything, talking kept his mind occupied and out of the Crystal Cavern.
"So, what's in the east that keeps us away from the west?"
"Woods. A thick wood that grows right up to the river. With focus on the farmlands and preparing the stone and ore for shipping, no one goes to the woods except for… wood," Galen laughed. Both Pete and Alan grinned along.
"In fact, I recall a pleasant grove that would be a good starting point for us. About a half-mile from the town and very near the river. With ape and human activity centered away from the woods, we can avoid contact, if necessary."
"And you said Rhohas is called a Bordertown?" Alan queried.
"Yes," Galen confirmed.
"Because it is near your Forbidden Zone." Galen could hear the subtle pressure in Alan's voice.
"Uhh, yes," the chimp clucked at the older human. "And it isn't my Forbidden Zone. It is a place filled with dangerous beasts, dead earth and nefarious nomads who would as soon eat you as speak."
Alan pressed his lips together as a hungry look lit his eyes stirring thoughts of other potential secrets hidden in the unknown territories. Avoided by the apes, human civilizations may have survived, may have even prospered, with the old technologies at their fingertips. He absently reached for the leather thong around his neck with the precious disk containing the data of the flight that threw them away from Alpha Centauri and into a time warp back to Earth. Alan believed with every fiber of his being that the disk was his only way home to his wife and son. Once they found a way to read it, a ship would be found. They would reverse the process to take them back the way they had come. Hope never died. He dropped his hand with a sigh. Pete and Galen exchanged a quick look, but neither wished to engage in that argument either.
"Well, your pleasant grove sounds like a good place to camp while we complete initial recon. You know I am a fan of caution," the older man confessed.
As they talked, Pete pulled his pack from his shoulder and tugged out a piece of fruit before slinging the pack back over one arm. Alan deliberately looked in the opposite direction, making a conscientious effort to say nothing.
"Is that the last time you saw your cousin? On your university trip?" the slender man asked between bites, deliberately changing the subject onto safer ground.
"Gressa came to Central City about two years ago to spend time with her mother, and mine. I saw her then, but only for a day."
"Then you don't know how she feels about her cousin gone rogue," he stated more than asked with a tilt of his dark head. He finished the aplure, then taking a hop for momentum, heaved the core away from the road.
Galen shrugged. "If you mean, will she welcome a renegade into her home? I suppose I will have to ask her when we get there."
It wasn't Pete's intention, but the topic of their fugitive status put a damper on the conversation. His growls of hunger had been replaced with a churning of indigestion as the semi-sour fruit hit his stomach. He didn't trust himself to lead any further talk, and no one else picked up the baton. The nausea clawed its way up, causing a slight blurring of his vision, forcing him to focus on walking without looking like he was focusing on walking. He weaved slightly toward the edge of the rolling road. Wanting to make the appearance of a deliberate, rather than an off balance trajectory, he grabbed at another stalk of knee-high grass that grew along the road, stuffing the soft end in his mouth. A couple of shakes to his head didn't do anything except draw Alan's attention. At least he didn't ask him about it. A few swallows of tepid water helped, and a couple of miles farther along, things settled enough that he was considering a new line of dialogue as they crested a hill.
"Get down," Alan hissed, and grabbed at Galen, pulling him toward the far side of the hill that rose up beyond the worn track. Pete ducked and followed. He dropped his pack to the ground as he lowered his stomach onto the grass to Galen's left, Alan on the chimp's right.
"There," the colonel pointed. Dust rose from the road a short distance away. Horse-drawn wagons and mounted apes approached. Tall grass at the top of the hill where they had hidden provided camouflage, giving them the luxury of keeping their eyes on the travelers.
"A transport caravan," the chimpanzee noted quietly. "Taking materials from the mines at Rhohas to the refineries. Rhohas begins the process, but they send it out in semi-raw form. Not much else travels the roads this way."
"Do you think they saw us?" Pete asked aloud what they all wondered.
"None of the guards are pulling away so looks like we're safe," Alan observed. "We'll have to wait it out here though."
"'Bout time for my afternoon nap anyway," the younger man quipped with nonchalance for the benefit of his friends. His brown eyes locked onto the approaching riders which soon became apparent were gorillas, five of them, guarding a dozen wagons pulled by double teams of horses. No—one was an orangutan. Four gorillas then—
Pete swallowed hard as sweat broke out on his upper lip and a cold hand stirred in his gut.
"After him! After him!" a gorilla shouted. Ataxis, the commander. A flash of his face inches from Pete's own as he slammed his arm against his throat cutting off all air. His limbs grappled uselessly against the gorilla's strength as his consciousness leaked away. His mind fought the growing blackness, shoved back by the advancing sounds of horses pounding after him in pursuit as he dodged and ran. Four mounted gorillas rode hard on his heels. He could feel the hammering of their hooves reverberate through the ground. Somehow, he found another burst of speed. Even as he ran, his body tensed as he felt something above his head, floating, falling, then ensnaring him as the net covered him, knocking him off his feet—and pain. Pain became a constant presence in the hours and days that followed—
Pete squeezed his eyes shut for a moment then opened them to see Galen looking his way, his eyes rich with concern as he felt the human beside him tense. Pete offered a quick grin, then readjusted his position as if he was settling in for the wait while purposefully moving away from the chimp so that they were no longer touching. He lay one hand flat on the grass, the other fisted on top, and he cupped his chin in the folds of his fingers and thumb. To keep his mind in the here and now, he studied the minutia of the caravan.
Moving leisurely, the wagons spread out, sometimes yards apart. Although the four gorillas rode with rifles slung over their shoulders, they displayed no sense of urgency. Rather than displaying attentiveness to the surrounding area and showing preparedness for an attack, one guard rode toward the front picking absently at a frayed sleeve. Four wagons back, the second rode opposite the orangutan, the two in deep conversation. The orang, white streaks intermingled with his reddish-orange fur, was dressed in a black tunic with elaborate stitching of reds, golds, and blues. An amulet the size of Burke's fist rocked back and forth with the gait of the black horse he rode. The final two guards were another two wagons back, riding side-by-side, and seemed to be engaged in a finger game. Reminded Pete of rock-paper-scissors.
Human drivers wearing bland, discolored shirts of tan and brown clucked at their team of horses, but otherwise showed little interest as they made their tedious journey, somewhere. The wagons themselves were made of sturdy wood with oversized wheels to support the heavy cargo of pale colored stone and dark ore. The plugh-plugh-plugh of the wheels tried to throw Pete back to a murky place where his existence spun on a wooden table, his ankles manacled, his wrists tied to posts, and a single voice badgered him without mercy. Do you want more!? What humans have helped you!?
A clattering sound drifted toward him, and he latched on to it like a lifeline to wrench him out of that screech-filled cavern back to the hillside. The first wagons had passed and moved out of view among the rolling hills while the others followed lazily. Pete scanned each in search of the source of the sound. There, at the far end, trailing a distance behind the rest, was a smaller wagon pulled by a single dun-colored horse with black legs, mane, and tail. Pots and pans draped over its sides, banging against the wood, and each other, causing the tinkling sounds. The human driver wore a wide-brimmed hat slung low on his forehead as if the brim would hide the slumped shoulders and drooped head of an afternoon nap, allowing the horse to take its own lead. Pete couldn't help but grin a little. Finding a moment of peace was a precious thing for humans in this world. His head tilted as he noted the tarp tied over the back of this wagon—must be the mess wagon which would explain why the driver lacked the usual malnourished appearance shared by many humans. Although held by leather ties wrapped around exterior hooks, the back end of the tarp on the side closest to the quiet observers had come loose from its ties, flapping sluggishly as the wagon crossed by the hill where they hid.
Pete glanced down the road; the gorillas were out of sight, blocked by a bend in the trail. The notion coalesced like a living thing and possessed him the moment it formed in his head. Pete turned to his back and rolled forward like a tumbler, gracefully coming to his feet at the bottom of the hill but keeping his body tucked at his bent knees. With his eyes glued on the road where the patrol had gone, he trotted in stealth mode toward the wagon. He reached it in moments, and agilely spun inside the fluttering tarp into the interior of the wagon.
Galen lifted his head curiously when he felt his friend move, but it was Alan who hissed his name. "Burke!" The chimp sat up on his elbows and met the blue eyes of his companion with shared alarm.
"What is he doing?" Galen looked rapidly back and forth between his human friends.
"BURKE!" the commander whispered through grit teeth, and lunged in the direction of the wagon, but stopped himself about the time Pete slid under the tarp. He realized the gorillas were out of their sight but that hardly meant they couldn't see the wagons behind them. Alan pounded at the ground in frustration and grabbed his lower lip in his teeth.
"What do we do?" Galen asked urgently.
"Nothing. We wait. If they catch him—we'll figure it out—." Alan made no attempt to hide his agitation. Galen's nose twitched furiously as he looked back at the slow-moving wagon.
Alan was not even aware he was holding his breath until Pete's feet emerged from the wagon, bending out like a limbo dancer, his shoes landing gracefully on the dirt, and he resumed his stealth trot into the high grass that lined the path.
Several minutes passed before Pete rose from the cover of the grasslands and moved onto the road with a huge smile. Galen and Alan ran down the hill on to the road as Pete walked toward them extending a large burlap bag with one hand and motioned toward a knapsack crooked on the opposite shoulder.
"Hey, look. Groceries!" he announced, very pleased with himself.
Judan allowed the scowl to settle on his face with no intentions of letting it fade. Anger simmered in his gut from the moment Osmur had conscripted him to the insult of Balden's assignment. He had raced to the stables to retrieve his horse while the garrison commander snatched humans from the street. Even then, he had to hurry to catch up since the ignorant gorilla didn't even wait for him to return before traipsing into forest to gather saplings needed to build Urko's cage.
Urko! That's where he should be. Osmur had assigned him to the jail initially where he could have been an active part of the investigation under the tutelage and eye of General Urko himself, and the young orangutan would have had the opportunity to display his skills and willingness to serve. With his right hand firmly planted at the Security Chief's beck and call, he could have earned his way into Central City and an assignment better suited to his many talents.
Instead, he sat on a stump watching Balden watch four humans cut and gather wood to build a cage for rebellion leaders. And what was that all about anyway? Rhohas had an edge to it as did all the Bordertowns on the periphery of The Forbidden Zone, but their humans presented no danger. They obeyed. They worked. They produced. Quotas were easily met with no hint of trouble. Judan's scowl deepened. He had to get closer to the investigation, next to Urko's side. Should the Security Chief unveil even a hint of insurrection, the orangutan needed to ensure that all blame fell on Osmur as Prefect. Judan had goals, and the taint of allowing a human uprising could not be attached to his name, even in whispers.
"Bah," he groused out loud, drawing a glance from Balden who remained astride his horse with his own look of consternation. It was clear the gorilla thought he should be at the jail as well. He was the Garrison Commander. The jail clearly fell under his jurisdiction. If Judan was of a mind to talk, he might have offered the gorilla commiseration. He had known the ape for a little over a year now, ever since he was assigned to Osmur. He was a capable commander, Judan thought, but he was obviously not in the good graces of his ultimate commander, meaning Judan needed to keep an arm's length away. If Balden was on Urko's list of undesirables, then Judan added his name to his own avoid contact list.
"Casper, how much longer?!" Balden shouted at the stocky human directing the others in the procurement of the materials for the cage. His skin was a darker shade than many, his black hair cut tight along his skull.
"We have to find strong wood, sir," the human gave a proper bow as he spoke. "No rot or it will easily break. And the right size. If it must be built today, we cannot take the time to trim it down."
"Find it faster!" the gorilla snarled.
"Yes, sir. Gabin, look that way," Casper shouted to the youngest of the humans present, sending him farther out from their current location. The young man waved in acknowledgement as he twisted and turned his way through the undergrowth to obey.
Judan snorted again. The wagon was only half-filled after two hours. He dejectedly plopped his chin into his hands. He was going to miss all the interrogations.
A scream and a snarl rocked the clearing where they waited with the wagon. Balden's horse half-reared in reflex, followed by the beasts harnessed to the wagon who struggled forward several feet as Casper raced to subdue them. Judan jumped to his feet, scanning the area as Balden yanked his rifle from its holster on his saddle.
The brush waved wildly in the direction the human Gabin had gone. His cries rose to a higher pitch of terror joined by deep growls. Balden forced his horse towards the commotion. Judan wisely stayed in place but climbed atop the log for a better view. Suddenly a rifle shot rang out—and a second. An animal yelp followed by a howl sent a chill through the orangutan.
Within moments, Balden rode his skittish horse back to the clearing.
"Casper, go get your man," the gorilla waved absently in that direction. The dark-haired human and another man hurried to their companion and returned with his arms draped over their shoulders. His chest and one leg were laid open by long tooth and claw marks. Blood soaked through what remained of the fabric of his clothes. Groaning revealed he still lived.
"Leave him by the wagon. Get back to work. Kaykos can tend him when we return," Balden ordered.
"Yes, sir," all the humans nodded, and returned to their task. Gabin curled onto his side, whimpering.
Judan jumped down from the log and stared in Balden's direction waiting for an explanation. The gorilla slid his rifle back into its holster but offered nothing.
"Well, what happened?" the orangutan finally was forced to ask.
"Oh, stupid human startled a bear," Balden barely glanced in Judan's direction as he spoke. "I think I hit it but ran it off. No time to chase it down."
"Hmm," Judan grumped. "And now there's only three to finish the job. We'll be here the rest of the afternoon." He dropped back onto the log and simmered.
Meelar heard the unmistakable sound of leather slapping against flesh followed by a human scream, announcing he was nearing the mine of Rhohas. He rounded a bend in the road in time to see a large gorilla, wearing a black tunic, a long strap fisted in both hands, take a swing at the naked back of a human hanging from a 'T' shaped post pounded in the ground. The male's wrists were locked into individual metal cuffs attached to chains wrapped around the right side of the 'T.' Similar cuffs hung empty on the other side, swaying as the strap made contact with the flesh. A chimpanzee stood to one side, hiding a yawn.
He rode the distance to the cabin near where the post stood, dismounted, and tossed the reins over a rail. He strolled the rest of the way to the post. With a brief nod acknowledged by the chimp, he hooked his thumbs in his belt and watched the gorilla administer the final four strokes. The leech—umm, human, Meelar reminded himself he was on duty and was discouraged from calling the thing by its slang name— had one open wound with blood drizzling down into its pants causing a red splotch in the fabric. The angry welts in the flesh suggested more than a dozen lashes had been delivered but the flat, wide leather was intended for pain, not injury. The human sagged as the gorilla walked to the vertical post and hung the strap on a knob jutting from it.
Meelar glanced around the area. The road he had followed west of Rhohas continued out of sight, blocked by numerous wooden buildings. He noted a well-worn foot trail going downhill through these structures and toward a cluster of ramshackle shacks. He could just make out the sounds of distant voices yelling instructions and the dull thud of stone being thrown in a wagon.
"I am Meelar of the Central City Guard," he announced as both apes turned their attention to him. He tugged at his black gloves to accent the black-vested uniform with deep maroon sleeves which he wore. "I am looking for Vulko, Overseer of the Rhohas Mine."
"And what does a Central City guard want with Vulko?" the gorilla asked coarsely.
"General Urko demands his presence, tomorrow in Rhohas." Meelar used Urko's military title on purpose. Urko's trooper thought he made Urko sound even more impressive and as the emissary for a general, he felt more impressive when he said it. The chimpanzee paused in his task of unlocking the manacles of the human, allowing it to hang by one arm as he looked first at the gorilla and then to Meelar. He sniffed loudly.
Meelar was still reeling from his change in fortune that had placed him in this position. After nearly twenty years as an unpromoted trooper, the hand of the Lawgiver finally rewarded him as he deserved! 'Bout time. He dropped his hard earned sembles at the temple door often enough.
When Bulta, Urko's assistant, approached him in Central City, he expected another reprimand, a lecture about his performance, and need to improve his efforts. He was angry that his name was added to the Rhohas assignment list. It wasn't his fault he was placed at the southern gate on guard duty to look for the human and the traitor ape. It wasn't his fault Virdon and Galen snuck by someone else into the City. And it certainly wasn't his fault that Burke escaped. He never even laid eyes on that human. So, when Bulta met him outside the barracks, he braced for another unfair attack from the higher ups.
Imagine his surprise when the gorilla, Urko's long-time school friend, acknowledged his unwarranted treatment, how he had unjustly been passed over for promotion time and time again. Meelar brushed at his chin, hints of gray just beginning to sneak into his fur. It was about time someone noticed, and now he would receive his due. Bulta promised that.
"I am Vulko," the gorilla finally acknowledged. "Why does General Urko want me?" He kept his voice firm but even Meelar, who wasn't the most observant sort, heard the hint of worry.
"General Urko doesn't need a reason. He expects you there. Tomorrow by 9." Meelar enjoyed saying that, exactly the words Chief Urko told him to say. The mine overseer's nose twitched. "I am to see the mines," Meelar added. Urko had not instructed that, but Bulta had personally chosen him to deliver a message without the overseer finding out. Unconsciously, he tapped at the leather pouch hanging from his belt where the note was held. Meelar had hidden it all the way from the City with no one the wiser of his special assignment. Bulta had stressed the need for secrecy, and his reward hinged on slipping the note to Hafva, the assistant overseer. Urko's assistant had squeezed his hand as he slipped him a cloth bag of sembles-the common currency, but not so common to linger long enough to jingle in Meelar's pouch-with a quick twitch of his nose as a hint of the types of riches that would follow. Coins for conspiracy. And Bulta chose him. Meelar felt the rise of pride in his chest as Vulko raked his eyes over him.
"I am not a guide," Vulko groused. He had enjoyed whipping the human; it was one of the perks of his job and was angry that this City ape had interrupted his entertainment. Now he had to worry about what nonsense Central City planned to dump on him. He stormed into the wood-framed cabin which served as the mine office and his home without further word.
"Come, I'll take you," the chimpanzee offered. He had released the human, taking up a cord that Meelar noticed for the first time. A leather collar ringed the creature's neck with a long, thin leather leash attached. The chimpanzee yanked on it and started along the path Meelar had noted earlier. The human stumbled but followed meekly, his head down. The gorilla shoved passed the animal to fall in step with the other ape. The creature made hissing moans as it walked, both arms wrapped around its chest, a worn metal band encircling one wrist declaring ownership by the mine.
"Meelar," he repeated his name, glancing at the chimp.
"Hmmm. Fegus. Labor Supervisor," the chimp replied. "So is Vulko in trouble?"
"I guess we'll know once Urko is done with him," the gorilla chuckled. The chimp gave a nod.
"Hafva, the assistant overseer, is at the mouth of the caves loading wagons. He'll show you the mines. Let me warn you though, he's in a rather unpleasant mood." Fegus jerked at the leash, causing a moan from the human. "Behind on the daily quotas. He may not appreciate the distraction."
"I won't keep him long then. Not here to stop your work."
The apes and slave moved along the downhill path through a cluster of huts and shacks. Meelar got a glimpse of the road winding on the far side of the buildings. They entered an open area of several feet and passed a smaller cluster of larger structures that had signage on the doors. One carried the distinctive label of a yellow flag with ape fists crossed at the wrists to form an "X". The trooper recognized the symbol for explosives. He hadn't much first-hand experience with the exploding powder, but their regular war games usually included blowing something up.
The sounds of yelling and activities of labor grew louder as they moved through the area. Finally, they exited the last group of wood buildings. Two wide wooden troughs elevated off the ground were laid heading north, to the river, Meelar presumed. He had heard the slaves pushed certain types of ore to the water to be cleansed in the early stages of refinement. On the south side, the road curved around to a large open space of hard packed dirt. A partially filled wagon was pulled in front of a large cave entrance. A steady stream of slaves came out of the cave entrance carrying filled buckets or pairs pulling pallets while another line went in with the empty containers. Meelar noticed for the first time that in addition to the neck collar, a similar leather belt wrapped around the waists of the slaves. The leashes came down from the collar to wrap around a holder on the belt making the leash easy to wrap out of the way but accessible when needed. A large silverback gorilla, taller than Urko, stood with legs spread wide at the back of the wagon, barking orders. His words were interrupted by a rough cough. He spit out a wad of phlegm onto the feet of one of the slaves and renewed his instructions with more fervor.
"Hafva," Fegus nodded toward the ape as he wound the leash around the waistband of the disciplined human. He lifted his foot and kicked the buttocks of the slave saying, "Back to work. Next time it will be the whip." The banded human shuffled mindlessly toward the cave unable to lift his feet off the ground, leaving a trail in the dirt. Meelar watched as another leech—ahh, human—grabbed a bucket from the cave mouth and shoved it in the creature's hands before they disappeared into the darkness. "I have to go back to my labor crew before they cause more trouble," Fegus spoke. "Mind what I said. Hafva has a temper," the chimp warned.
"I will," Meelar grunted, suddenly very appreciative of his Central City post. The stench and heat of this place was overwhelming. He wanted to deliver his message and go. He glanced around to ensure no eyes were on him, and he dug out the note from his pouch, hiding it in his glove.
He approached Hafva cautiously. The giant stood at least a foot taller than him. He cleared his throat loudly, causing the ape to glance his way.
"Hafva. I am Meelar from the Central City guard. I need a private word."
The already small eyes on the wide face narrowed, and the gorilla swung in his direction.
"I was instructed to have you show me the mines," Meelar spoke loudly as the huge gorilla approached then lowered his voice as the ape stopped in front of him. "I see you are too busy so I will see the mines another time." Hafva's arms, thicker than Meelar's thighs, swung ominously as a scowl grew on his face.
Meelar pushed the note out so that it was just visible. The gorilla's eyes darted downward to the parchment, then back up. "The wind is blowing," the trooper stated as Bulta instructed him. He was told Hafva would understand. The large head tilted. "I can't stay. Expected to report back. But we gotta talk. Shared interest. Tomorrow mornin' your overseer has to report to Rhohas. So, when and where can we meet—privately, and all that—without him the wiser?"
"When—2 in the afternoon. Where—follow the road back toward town. Look for three boulders in a line. Take the trail. The boulders grow taller and more frequent. Look for the overhang. Like a bird's wings," Hafva's voice rumbled. He coughed again.
"Rewards await the clever ape," Meelar stated more of the words Bulta gave him as he pushed the note to the ground. He spun on his heel and hurried back through the huts.
The black, beady eyes of the assistant overseer studied him as he walked away. He had not heard from Bulta in weeks. He was overdue. He leaned down to snatch the paper and a stone from the ground. He stuffed the note in a pocket at his belt, turned, and threw the stone at the humans milling near the wagon. One yelped as the rock glanced off his arm. Hafva knew the idiot messenger knew nothing. Bulta was too shrewd to allow his type of business to be trusted to a go-between. The fool had given him the code words and the clue to unravel the coded note he had left behind. As far as he knew, the meeting tomorrow was unnecessary and if the note was complete, the trooper would wait a long time for no one, but Bulta was also a trickster. He might need the idiot still. He would decipher the note after his meal. For now, he still had a daily quota to meet.
The smile Pete felt buzzed through his entire body as he rolled from the wagon, and slipped unseen into the tall grass. His theft successful, he listened to the beautiful quiet in his head. He dropped to his back on the ground, snatched a stem of grass and stuck it in his mouth. Laying his head on the palms of his hands, he grinned, watching the clouds drift overhead. He figured Alan would be mad but right now, he didn't care. For the first time in days, he felt in control of himself, and he decided to control when he would face Alan. He laughed out loud, and for a moment, remembered what happiness felt like.
When the grass stem was chewed down to nothing, he rolled back to his stomach and crawled to the edge of the road to peek out. The dust of the caravan rose like smoke on the horizon. He was safe—from the gorillas anyway. He stood and threw the pilfered knapsack over one shoulder, grabbed the burlap sack in the other hand and sauntered on to the road. Galen and Alan snuck out from behind the hill. Pete saw Virdon look past him to ensure the caravan was out of sight. Since I didn't have the sense to do that, he thought wryly. He refused to let that thought dampen his good mood, and the smile broadened on his face.
The young astronaut extended the burlap sack out and nodded toward the bag on his shoulder saying, "Hey, look. Groceries!"
Galen was pulled into the infectious smile and took the sack from Pete's hand. The younger man dropped the knapsack to the ground at his feet. The chimp chirped aloud. He could feel the happiness radiating from his friend but was also very aware of the stiff posture of the other human next to him.
Alan almost bit back his tongue before the lashing began. Pete hadn't had a real smile on his face since the gorilla patrol had taken him over two weeks ago. He had faked a few but Alan knew him well enough to recognize the farce. He wanted to let it slide but his command presence took over. Some things could not be ignored.
"What in the hell do you think you were doing! Not only did you put yourself in danger, you risked our lives as well!" the colonel spoke with a fury that never rose in volume but burned hotly. "It's one thing to throw yourself into a threatening situation but you jeopardized Galen! Me! All of us! To what end, Major?! I need an answer and it had better be damn good!"
I knew he'd be mad but he's reallllly pissed, Burke thought, and reflexes took over.
Pete flinched and opened his mouth as if he was going to argue, but stopped, pulled himself to attention, arms stiff at his sides, eyes front, jaw locked as Alan's crisp dressing down forced him into the ingrained posture before his commanding officer. The joy vaporized into nothingness. His face assumed a neutral mask.
"I asked a question! I expect an answer, Major! What was your mission?"
Pete's brown eyes darted in Alan's direction for the barest of moments. The colonel's controlled anger struck him hard, mostly because he knew it was justified. He couldn't have explained it if he tried. Avoiding the ceaseless barrage of his memories which flitted away like gnats when he tried to piece it all together entangled with the vertigo, nausea, and headaches that he couldn't shake, had become exhausting. But in that instant, the opportunity to one-up the apes took possession of his body with a fervor he could not contain. The adrenaline rush still throbbed throughout his body, and he realized that despite the recklessness of it all, he would do it again. I needed a win, goddamnit, was what he wanted to say, but instead his eyes locked back into position, and he responded, "Sir, I saw an opportunity to obtain supplies, sir."
Alan looked toward their chimpanzee companion. Galen stood slack jawed. He had never seen Virdon come at Burke with such ferocity. Frustration, impatience, exasperation, yes, but this was a side of their relationship he didn't know existed and frankly, never wanted to see again. When the ape realized Alan was expecting a response from him, he muttered, "Oh," and opened the bag he held.
"Um, fresh greens, bread, potatoes, carrots, beans—and cheese," Galen offered as he rummaged through the burlap bag and then the knapsack.
"Acceptable risk this is not." The ice blue of Virdon's eyes cut through Burke who held the position without a blink—he had been here too many times throughout his career to even consider challenging his C.O.
"We need to move out, get some distance between us in case one of those guards heard something and decides to check it out." Virdon set himself directly in front of his junior officer. "I'm not through with you, Major," the colonel put him on notice with a withering gaze. Alan spun on his heel and started walking.
Galen gave Pete a sympathetic pat on the arm as he handed him the stolen knapsack, keeping the burlap bag for himself. He waited as Pete climbed the hill to retrieve his personal belongings he had abandoned there, and they joined up at the base of the hill to follow the staunch march of the colonel, now several yards ahead of them. No one spoke again until they made camp several miles and hours later.