"On your knees, hands up! I want to see your hands!"

Virdon helped Galen, who clumsily sank down on one knee - he still couldn't fully stretch his healing ankle - and cast a quick glance to Burke to make sure his hotheaded friend didn't try anything heroic. But Pete was kneeling like everybody else, hands behind his neck, looking sullen. Apart from his friends, only one rebel hadn't made it out of their foxhole: a short, wiry man with greying temples. Virdon remembered that it had been him who had held the knife at Zana's throat.

Zana. Virdon didn't know if he should be glad that she had escaped with the others, or worried about her safety. At least one of the apes, that young girl Lora, had been sympathetic to her, but she had no position of authority with her fellow "revolutionaries." Virdon suspected they tolerated her for political reasons - perhaps her family had powerful connections they hoped to exploit.

One of the soldiers quickly patted them down for weapons, while his comrade searched around the table and the upturned chair for evidence. He bent down and picked up the knife that the slim man had dropped in his mad dash towards the second door, held it up for his commander, and put it in a bag.

Their own guard swung Galen's bag over his shoulder; Galen glanced up quickly when his compromising book changed ownership, but didn't say anything. Virdon hoped it would go unopened into some evidence room - he still had no idea about its content, and Galen was tight-lipped about it, but from Zana's reaction, it was some strictly censored information; stealing that book from Zaius' vault had gotten Galen the death sentence that had forced him to join them.

The third soldier had been fumbling with the other door in the meantime, without success. Now he grabbed Burke by the neck and roughly pushed him towards it. "Open the door."

"I can't," Burke snapped. "It's locked from the inside, or do you think we'd be still here otherwise?" He banged a fist against it. "And it's solid steel, so good luck with breaking through."

A quick inspection by the squad leader confirmed his words. "Well, too bad for you," he gestured for his men to tie their hands, "but your lives still have a purpose. If nothing else, you'll serve to educate your fellow humans why it's a bad idea to defy the prefect." He jerked his chin towards the stairs, and the soldiers yanked them to their feet.

Outside, the forest was swarming with apes, torches moving in the darkness like angry fireflies. Their captor watched Galen's limp for a moment, then ordered one of his men to find him a horse; the rest of them had their tied wrists roped to the saddlehorns of their guards. Depending on the apes' mood, they'd be jogging or running the whole distance; Virdon hoped that their destination wasn't too far away. He doubted that they'd stop if one of them lost their footing.

The riders let their horses walk through the undergrowth; when they met with a second group at the edge of the forest, Virdon spotted a bundle tied onto the back of one of their horses. Behind him, he heard Burke mutter a curse. The gorilla had killed one of their comrades.

Virdon took a deep breath.

Their chances to wiggle out of this trap had just plummeted.

When they finally reached the main square of the prefecture's seat, Virdon felt as if his lungs were on fire. He had no problems hiking up and down the hills for days on end, but since Galen had injured his ankle, they hadn't been able to run anymore, and it showed. He supported himself against the croup of his warden's horse and tried to catch his breath. His only consolation was that his fellow captives were stumbling along just as he was, sweat-drenched and panting; so it wasn't because of his age.

They had been forced to carry their backpacks themselves, and his back had been rubbed raw, just like the ropes had bitten into his wrists. Now their captors dismounted, loosened their cords, and Virdon gladly shrugged off his load. Contrary to Galen, his backpack didn't contain any brow-raising artifacts.

Their hands were retied behind their backs - with the exception of Galen, who even got his cane back - and they were led up the stairs of what Virdon supposed was the town house. Most of the rooms were dark, the bureaucrats home by now, but the office at the end of the corridor was brightly lit. The prefect had put in overtime for them.

The burly ape behind the desk ignored them completely while he listened to the squad leader's report, only interrupting him once to ask if they had found any sign of his niece; Virdon raised his brows at that - if the prefect had a personal reason to detest the HLF, things could get ugly.

When the chimp finally turned his attention to the prisoners, it was Galen he addressed.

"I can understand that humans would try to climb up in the hierarchy, but of all the apes I interviewed, not one was able to give me a coherent explanation why they voluntarily want to climb down." He leaned back and regarded Galen with half-lidded eyes. "But I'm always willing to try again." He turned his palm upward. "So, enlighten me. Why are you wallowing in their filth?"

"I think your choice of words already precludes a constructive discussion," Galen said softly. "But I'm the wrong person to ask this particular question anyway, because I don't belong to their organisation."

The prefect bellowed a short laugh. "Ah, where have I heard that before? It must have been in this very room, from apes who suddenly lost their appetite for fighting for their noble cause." He leaned forward, all amusement wiped from his face. "It'd be better for you to wisen up and cooperate with me. Unless you want to join them on the block." He waved towards the humans.

Galen looked ill. "You mean, there is an option of parole for me, but not for them?"

The prefect lifted a corner of his mouth; it wasn't quite a smile. "Parole presupposes a court decision. The last time we brought animals before a court was when a miller's donkey was accused of bestiality."

Galen's nostrils flared, but his tone was as mild as always. "I'm very sorry, prefect, but it is the truth - I and my humans were held up and taken prisoner by these rebels, because they thought we were spying on them for you. Now you are accusing us of working with them ." He sighed theatralically. "It seems we've been caught in the middle of your private little war, but you must believe me: we were just traveling through. We have no part in this conflict, on either side."

The prefect shook his head. "I see. Well, perhaps spending some time in our jail will make you reconsider that story." He rose, and Virdon felt the heavy hand of a guard on his shoulder. They were dismissed.

"Do you still remember how to pick a lock?" he murmured to Burke as they were shoved down the stairs into the basement. Apparently, the townhouse did double duty as office building and precinct.

"Sure I do," Burke murmured back. "Just get me some lock picks."

"Ah yes," Virdon mused. "That's where it gets difficult..."

"Shut up." The force of the slap against his head made him stumble forward. Virdon shook his head to lose the dizziness and decided that he'd wait until the soldiers had delivered them to their cells before he'd further consult with Burke.

Unfortunately, the prefect had given order that they would wait out their trial - or the lack of it - in separate cells. Unlike the kennels at the institute, their lodgings here had massive walls and thick wooden doors, and while both he and Burke knew how to morse, the captured rebel didn't, and he got the cell between them.

Slowly, Virdon sat down on the bare cot and began to take off his shoes. There was nothing he could do right now, and he was too exhausted to think straight, so the best strategy was to get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow, he could think of something to get them out of here. A bargain, a plea, a ruse... anything.

He had a feeling that they didn't have much time.