Chapter Ten

Urko

"Hey, Urko."

Urko growled as he glared at the door. It was the middle of the night. Did this stupid human never shut up? "What do you want?"

"Well, I want to get the hell out of this cage, but I'd settle for a drink of water."

He growled. He'd had more than enough of her demands. "Go to sleep, human."

"I'm thirsty."

"You're lucky that you are still alive to be thirsty."

"Look, asshole, I..."

"Christine..." The other voice from inside the cell was a remarkably ironic relief. "Give it a rest, will you? It's gotta be three o'clock in the morning."

"Well, I'm thirsty."

Urko's eyes slid closed, resting but still on alert. He would sleep when he got back to Central City. Until then, he was ultimately the one responsible for ensuring that these humans did not escape. For that reason, in spite of the guards around the jail, sleeping in shifts and constantly vigilant, he himself was stationed outside the door of the cell. He wanted nothing to go wrong.

"Urko."

His eyes opened again, and his anger surged. He stood, grabbed his weapon, and stormed to the cell door, unlocking it and throwing it open. The female stumbled backward and fell, staring up at him with a shocked look on her face. Against the far wall, beneath the window, Burke glanced up. He seemed almost disinterested, arms resting on his knees and face expressionless.

Urko readied his gun, and aimed it at the female on the floor. "Do you want to live to see morning?" he demanded.

She stared back, still stunned. But he could read the fear in her eyes at the sight of a gun pointed directly at her head. "Go. To sleep!" he ordered. He stepped back from the cell, slammed the door hard, and returned to his chair.

For a few moments, it was actually silent. Then he heard the quiet talking between the two humans in the cell. He couldn't make out what they were saying, and he didn't really care. As long as they were quiet. Urko's eyes slid shut again, lids becoming heavier the longer he sat staring at the cell door. He shook his head, trying to fight off the onset of sleep. But as the relative silence continued, he realized there was really no use. Besides, he would have plenty of warning if anything should happen. Surely a few minutes of resting his eyes wouldn't hurt...

Halfway between consciousness and sleep, Urko wasn't sure he if he'd actually heard a door open somewhere, or if it had only been in his mind. With tired eyes, he half-heartedly turned his head to see if his imagination was playing tricks on him.

Instantly, his eyes were wide, and every indication of sleep was long gone. Directly in his line of sight was the light-haired human, carrying a knife in one hand and a cloth rag in the other. Before Urko's eyes had a chance to adjust, or to identify the figure behind him, the human had lunged at him.

Urko sprang to his feet, flinging the chair halfway across the room in the process. His gun, having been propped up against the stool, fell. Almost immediately, Virdon had kicked it away, sending it skittering across the floor. Urko growled. He didn't need it. He would rip this human apart with his bare hands...

Alan had just enough time to regain his balance, and check his grip on both the knife and the rag. He had a feeling he was going to need both. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Galen race to the cell. "Pete!"

"What the...?"

Alan braced, and dodged Urko's grip at the last second. If that gorilla got his hands around his neck, there was no way in hell he'd be able to get out. Equally dangerous, out of the corner of his eye he saw the door to where he assumed there were more guards sleeping. If they heard the commotion, they would be severely outnumbered. Urko's pride and current anger would likely keep him from calling for help. But they would still overhear. He had to block that off. And now.

Alan bolted, sweeping up the overturned chair along the way and jamming it under the handle to the door a fraction of a second before Urko nearly jammed him into the door. He brought the knife up instinctively, but caught only air with the blade.

"Galen!" Pete's voice almost distracted him, but now quite. "What the hell is...?"

"Where are the keys!" Galen demanded.

"Urko has them!"

Alan's eyes remained locked on his opponent, who was beginning to circle him now. Apparently, his overzealous, knee-jerk reaction had been broken upon realizing that Alan was, in fact, armed. Alan gripped the knife tighter. "I am sure you will soon find that this was very poor judgement, Virdon," Urko threatened.

"Are you all right, Pete?"

"Yeah, we're fine."

Alan lowered his head, breathing hard, jaw set. Instincts were returning, as they always did in these sorts of combat situations. Kill or be killed. That was all there was to it. And somehow... he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when this person he faced was... well... Alan wasn't sure what difference it made. He really wasn't. But for some reason, he hesitated.

Maybe it was just the fact that he was naive. The fact that Urko really and truly didn't understand. Maybe it was the fact that Alan was the one who was the enemy of the state, not the other way around. Maybe the simple fact that the idea of close killing had always bothered him - even as a soldier - somewhere in the back of his mind. If he had to fight, he didn't ever want to see his opponent's eyes. Or maybe just because he didn't want to have to explain to Galen, or any other ape, who would then struggle with the fact that he was as savage and wild as any other human - if not more so.

Whatever the reason, Alan hesitated. Whatever the reason, he watched the window of opportunity - in which he could have easily moved in, jerked his arm up, and slit the gorilla's throat - open and then shut again. And he let it pass, still pacing with him, eyes locked.

"Jesus!" Pete's voice once again very nearly distracted him. "He's gonna...! Get me outta here, Galen, c'mon!"

Alan knew where the keys were. He knew they weren't getting out of that cell unless he retrieved them. But getting to them was another matter entirely.

Suddenly, Urko lunged. Alan saw it, and he braced instinctively. But he didn't move. Urko's hand closed around his wrist, and he flung him to the floor like a rag doll. In that instant, Alan was a hell of a lot closer to his enemy than he cared to be. But at the same time, it was as close as he needed to be. He dropped the knife - he had to - and grabbed for the keys on Urko's belt, ripping them free and hurling them across the floor toward Galen.

He hit the ground hard on his shoulder, and shooting pain ran through him. He knew instinctively from the level of pain that he'd just been injured, and his right arm was useless. Now unarmed, he was immediately jerked back up by Urko's grip on his shirt. "Now you will see what I think of humans who don't know their place," Urko hissed.

Alan felt anger rise up inside of him, borne of pain and frustration and adrenaline, and he growled low in his throat. In one hard, forceful movement, he brought his good arm up, raising the rags into the inch of space between their faces. The sweet, dizzying scent washed over him as he pressed the rag into Urko's face, and he felt his own eyes roll back as the gorilla's grip loosened. Alan let the darkness come and once again, with expert ease, placed his life squarely in the hands of his two friends...

The door to the sleeping quarters was beginning to rattle against the chair. Pete was very close to rattling the door to his own cell as Galen finally found the right key and shoved it hard into the lock, twisting it free. Pete threw the door open so hard it banged against the wall and just about fell off its hinges. In an instant, he was at Alan's side, prying Urko's fingers from his shirt. Even half-conscious, he was strong as an ox.

Pete caught a whiff of the sweet smelling drug and blinked at the cloth. Chloroform? No. Too damn strong. He swooned a bit. "Whoo..." What was that shit? He quickly unwound the rag from his friend's hand, and dropped it on the floor. Whatever it was, it had done its job well. Urko was definitely unconscious. Unfortunately, so was Alan, and Pete struggled to maneuver under his arm, to hold him up. "Galen!"

Galen was at his side in an instant, and Christine stood at the door to the cell, wide-eyed and unsure. The door to the sleeping quarters began to splinter. "Pete!" Galen hissed. "We have to get out of here!"

"Yeah, I know," Pete answered, urgent but remarkably collected given the circumstances. Christine stared at him in awe. "Gimme a hand, will you?"

Galen slid under Alan's other shoulder, and they started for the door. "Are there guards outside?" Pete questioned, eyeing Urko's gun for a long moment.

"Not awake," Galen assured.

Christine could hear her heart beating in her ears as the door cracked. "Hurry!"

"Go!" Pete yelled at her, picking up the pace as he and Galen fell into a rhythm.

Christine stumbled toward the door, a half step in front of the other three. Just as they were almost to the front door, it flew open. A half-conscious gorilla stood in their path, clearly confused but also clearly armed. Christine screamed.

Pete ducked out from under Alan's arm and tackled the guard full-force. He fell to the floor easily, and Pete threw all his strength into a right cross. To his surprise, that was all it took. The gorilla was unconscious with one blow.

Galen was nearly collapsing under Alan's weight. "Pete..."

He pulled himself off the ground in time to see Christine duck under Alan's other arm. Instantly, Pete realized something didn't look right. "Careful!" he warned. Christine froze and he bolted to them. "His shoulder looks dislocated," Pete explained.

He took Christine's place, supporting Alan's weight with a hand around his waist rather than his arm. Behind him, he heard the door shatter into fragments, and raced to the door. Galen gestured to the left as they stumbled out into the darkness. "Go that way!" Galen ordered. He was already trying to move toward the left. Pete followed his lead, carrying Alan into the barely visible path into the overgrown area, and toward safety.

Alan took in a breath. It was more difficult than he'd thought it would be. For a moment, he found himself struggling for it, as if he had been underwater for a long time. Finally, he was able to reach the surface, and he gasped in a deep breath. He tried to open his eyes - a little too fast - and cringed as light touched them. "Ah!"

"Careful, Alan."

Pete's voice was familiar, and comforting. He knew by the tone that wherever he was, he was safe. In a significant amount of pain, but safe. Pete wasn't worried, and there was no other sound around him. Vaguely, he remembered what had happened, and why he felt this way. One hell of a hangover...

He tried again to open his eyes, this time a little slower, and more carefully. The light was coming from a small fire nearby. He watched it for a moment, and let his eyes slide closed again. "You okay?" he managed.

"Yer the one who's been unconscious," Pete reminded, opening one eye to look at him. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

It was an attempt at humor, but Pete was too tired to make it work. Alan let a slight smile creep to his lips. "You're the one who was spending some quality time with Urko..."

"Yeah, and you're the one with the dislocated shoulder."

Alan turned his head to look at his right arm. "Dislocated, huh?" he mumbled. "No wonder it hurts so bad."

"I went ahead and set it back while you were under," Pete informed. "But you did a number on it."

Alan nodded. "I believe it," he cringed. "It hurts like hell..." He felt as if someone had taken a hack saw to his shoulder joint.

"I don't think it's broken. But we still need to keep an eye on it."

Alan breathed deep, and closed his eyes again, trying to relax and will away the realization of pain. "You never answered my question," he finally stated.

"What question?"

"You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Pete assured. "Exhausted as all hell, but okay." A slight smirk crept across his face. "Now that you're up from your nice little nap, you can keep watch for a while."

"Mmm," Alan acknowledged. "It was some form of medical anesthesia. Thought it might be comparable to chloroform."

"Think it was a little stronger than chloroform."

"Mmm hmm."

Pete watched him for a moment, then rested his head back against the wall of the cave, breathing deep. His eyes hurt, and he let them slide closed. He had a headache behind them. A quiet groan from Alan made him look again, and he frowned as he saw his friend trying to get up. "You might as well just lay back down and get some rest," Pete mumbled. "The whole area out there is crawling with gorillas. And you're in no shape to go wandering the countryside anyways."

"Where are we?" Alan rubbed at his eyes as he finally managed to sit up. He couldn't believe the effort it took, or the pain it caused. He held his arm in his lap, cradling it and wishing more than ever that he had some painkillers available. "How far from the city?"

"Not far enough," Pete sighed. "But we couldn't very well carry you all the way to the ship. And there's no way in hell we can travel during the day with Urko and every soldier within a ten mile radius shooting to kill..."

"Right." Alan looked up, and his eyes wandered over the cave walls and ceiling. Briefly, they lingered on the sleeping figures of Galen and Christine. "What are the chances they'll find us here?"

"Slim," Pete assured, noticing where Alan's gaze remained. "And even if they do, there's two ways outta here. We can get out the back way if it comes to that."

"How is she?" Alan gestured.

Pete glanced in her direction and shrugged slightly. "She's all right." A very faint, tired smile crept across his face. "I think we've finally come to an understanding."

"About what?"

"About good guys and bad guys."

Alan smirked. "Where do we stand?"

"She still seems to think we're the stupidest people to ever walk the planet," Pete frowned. "But she's willing to take us to the ship even if it's not going to do us any good."

"Why does she think that it won't do us any good?"

Pete sighed, and shook his head. "Alan... would you have believed - before you saw, that is - that the ruling civilization on this planet knows less about technology than you and I do?"

Alan looked away. "Probably not," he admitted.

"She knows they won't help her. Doesn't quite understand that they can't."

Alan nodded slightly.

"And either way, she might be right," Pete continued after a moment's pause. "There's no guarantee we're qualified to fly her ship or that we can reverse whatever process brought us here. We might be no better off than they are for all our training and experience..."

"Hey, I'll learn how to fly it," Alan stated, determination ringing in his voice.

Pete smirked slightly. "Trial and error, huh?"

Alan faked a returning smile. Trial and error with their very lives as a bargaining chip was probably not particularly wise. "Always worked before," he joked quietly.

Pete laughed. "Right, Colonel," he answered, closing his eyes a bit. "I'll remember that."

Alan forced himself to relax a little. He realized he had a splitting headache, and massaged at his temples with his good arm to try and reduce it, even in the slightest bit. Must be a side effect of the anesthesia... That probably also explained why he was sick to his stomach. He lay back down carefully.

"How's Galen?"

"Fine," Pete answered. "Tired." His eyes drifted briefly to the chimpanzee. "Glad we found this place. Dunno how much further we coulda carried you..."

"How long was I out for?"

Pete glanced toward the entrance of the cave. It was blocked from view, but he could still see the shadows cast by whatever light was outside. "It's still dark out, but it's gotta be gettin' close to dawn by now."

Alan took in a deep breath of the cool but stale air. "Man... that's some strong stuff..."

"Any idea what it was called?"

"Dunno," Alan admitted. "The bottle is still in my bag, though. Maybe you can decipher the doctor's hand writing."

Pete glanced at the bag, but decided he probably couldn't read it even if it was typed out in plain English. His eyes wouldn't focus that long. He closed them again. "Maybe later."

"You haven't slept, have you?" Alan realized.

"Uh uh." Pete's eyes half-opened, and he smiled faintly. "Wanted to make sure you actually came out of it."

Alan smiled gratefully. "Thanks. I'll be fine, though. You need to get some rest."

"Mmm hmm." Pete knew exactly how badly he needed rest. "Know? It's funny... I used to pull all-nighters no problem in school... Now I can't keep my eyes open..."

"That was a long time ago," Alan reminded with a slight smile.

"Yeah, 'bout a thousand years, right?" Pete grinned back, eyes closed.

Alan rubbed his forehead and glanced once more at Galen and Christine. "What do our provisions look like?" he asked. "Are we okay until nightfall?"

"Got water," Pete mumbled. "No food."

"Is there food around here?"

Pete groaned. "Don't go wanderin' around out there, Alan... Last thing we need is for you to get caught now. I've seen enough of that jail to last me a lifetime."

Alan smiled, and his eyes lingered for a moment on his friend. The smile gradually replaced with concern. "You know, you're making me hurt just looking at you..."

Pete laughed.

"Get some rest, Pete," Alan urged. "Those guards aren't gonna be coming 'round here for a while if they are out like I was."

Pete shrugged his shoulders out of his bag and tossed it on the floor of the cave, surprised by how much effort it took to move. "Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be okay," Alan assured.

Pete turned to face the wall and lay down. "Good. 'Cause I dunno if I'd do you a hell of a lot of good if you weren't okay..."

Alan chuckled, and silence descended on them. Pete's eyes opened, and for a long moment, he stared at the wall before speaking. "Hey, Alan?"

Alan tensed just slightly at the calm, serious tone. It wasn't all that often that Pete used that tone. No sarcasm, no joking, no urgency. Almost conversational and yet serious enough to be dangerous. "Yeah?" he answered back, eyes locked on his friend.

Pete hesitated for just a moment, then turned onto his back, looking up. Their eyes locked, and Pete forced a slight smile. "Thanks."

Alan watched him for a moment, and nodded, smiling just slightly. There was no need for him to say anything, and he knew it. What was there to say, really? In this world, in this time and place, death was commonplace. They had outwitted it time and time again, but that meant nothing for the one time they didn't escape.

A thousand years ago, it was only in times of war that one relied on his comrades to protect his life, every minute of every day. And only in times of war did he find nothing more to say to the man who saved his life than a casual "thanks". But what more was there to say? In another week, or month, he would save his life, and the favor would be repaid. Alternatively, he would fail. Then the story would end, and the debt would be forgotten.

Life was short, fragile. Alan was acutely aware of the fact that it only really took a single bullet to end his existence. Or Pete's. Or Galen's. What then? Fewer people to watch out for each other, to say nothing of the personal loss. They couldn't survive. They simply couldn't. They needed each other, and unlike times of war... there was no option to leave a man behind. It wasn't even possible. Without every one, their chances of survival diminished greatly.

Now there was also Christine to think about. She would help them, yes. But inevitably, they would help her so much more. To learn the ways of this world, and to survive. Alan had no doubt that their necks would be on the chopping block again for her sake, and he had no reservations about allowing it. Because maybe, just maybe, it could pay off. Maybe, from the help they gave to her, they would gain a way home. And that, above all, was the ultimate pay off.

"Hey Alan..."

"Hmm?" Alan glanced over and saw Pete facing the wall again.

"From what Christine was saying... that ship's out in the desert somewhere." He paused for a beat. "It might take us a few days to find it."

Alan didn't answer. It was clear from the finality of Pete's tone that he wasn't really expecting an answer. He sighed as he closed his eyes, breathing deep. He needed to start thinking about how they were going to survive wandering around in the desert. But they had to go. There was absolutely no question about that. They had to search, even if it meant searching every inch of that desert. If not to search for that ship... what did they have left?

Alan took in a breath, and turned on his side, his arm curled under his head. Somehow, they would survive. Somehow, they'd find that ship. Somehow, maybe even soon, he would be home. Somehow...