Zana's heart hammered against her ribs as she watched Galen's back vanish around the corner. Ann shot her a calculating glance. "Are you ready to unleash Urko's baboons against them?"

"Never."

Ann nodded. Then she opened the door and ran out into the corridor. "Help! Help! They are killing Dr. Maltus!"

Ann couldn't escape with them; she had to return to her life as respectable matron, wife of Councillor Yalu, above all suspicion. Zana still admired her nerve to send a whole patrol after her own son.

Heavy boots thundered down the corridor, and Ann retreated into the preparation room again; she flicked Zana a sharp glance, reminding her to resume her role. Zana began to writhe and moan in her chair, trying to imitate a sensation she had never experienced. Her only consolation was that the men bursting through the door couldn't know what it was like, either, and Ann lost no time to distract them.

"Help me, they're going to kill us! Oh, officer, they went in there," she pointed at the doors to the operating room, "Mothers only know what they're doing there to the poor doctor, and they dragged in one of yours, too!" She grabbed Zana's wheelchair while the men were taking up position at the doors, and pushed it into the corridor.

More guards were running towards them, batons drawn. They couldn't fire their weapons inside the hospital, one of the few advantages of their location. Maybe Galen and Alan could outrun them, if the guards saw through their disguise.

For some precious moments, Ann managed to throw everything into a complete chaos. She grabbed a guard by the lapel of his uniform when he started off into the right direction, "Officer, I want to make a statement!"

The guard tried to shake her off. "You can give your statement at the precinct, ma'am..."

"But it just happened! Don't you collect evidence at the crime scene?" Ann hung on like one of Melvin's cats. The officer reached for his notebook, clearly torn between contradicting duties.

"One of them hit your comrade with a hammer! On the head! Who knows, he might have killed the poor man!" Ann let go with one hand to fan herself. "And, and, and the other one held a scalpel at Dr. Maltus' throat! I don't want to imagine what he did to the poor man in the operating room... maybe he started operating on him? Oh Mothers..." She sank down, caught in another bout of fainting. "Please, girl, get me my smelling salts..."

Zana twisted around in her chair and waved for another guard to wheel her over to where Ann had sunk to the floor, nested in the concentric circles of her gown like a stone thrown into a lake, with the guards helplessly bobbing on the waves.

Ann took the flacon with the smelling salts with a limp hand and inhaled deeply. "Where is a doctor? This poor girl is writhing in pain," Zana flinched and resumed her moaning, "in a hospital, and nobody is bothering to help! Nurse!"

"It's coming, it's coming!" Zana yelled, finally getting comfortable in her role. "I can feel its head!"

"Get that woman a nurse, stat!" one of the guards barked, and two of his men almost fell over each other in their haste to get out of the fray.

Zana was beginning to appreciate Ann's methods.

The matron had quickly recovered - again - and began to randomly wheel her around in apparent confusion, accidently blocking the officers' movements and forcing them to walk around her and into one another. A yell and a half-swallowed curse told Zana that the object she had just rolled over had been a foot. She quickly looked up into Ann's face. Ann's eyes burned with unholy glee.

Then she quickly resumed her role, her expression a mixture of mania and confusion. Zana followed her gaze: a guard returned with a nurse in tow, a flustered girl half her age. Behind them, the guards had finally managed to shake off their confusion and took up pursuit. A whistle called for reinforcements.

"That young lady needs to see an obstetrician right away," Ann said, and put the nurse's hands on the handles of Zana's wheelchair. "All this mayhem has thrown her into premature labor! I know what I'm talking about, I'm a mother myself! Off you go, before those criminals come back and savage us all!"

The girl muffled a cry and almost toppled the wheelchair as she turned it on the spot and dashed off. Zana leaned over the armrest to catch a last glimpse of Ann. The older woman stood aside, back pressed to the wall, as a new horde of black uniforms rushed past her, her gown a patch of blue sky in the mud colored corridor.

Then they turned a corner, and she vanished from Zana's sight.


"Urko has already searched my parents' house from top to bottom," Galen wheezed, pushing hard to accelerate the gurney, "if he finds my mother here, all the acting skills in the world won't help her - he won't believe her story for a second! And Zana..."

Virdon pushed against the gurney to slow it down before it shot into an intersection, and cautiously peered into the crossing corridors. "I wouldn't worry about Ann - she knows how to direct her battalions."

"Her battalions?" Galen snorted. "She's an army of one!"

Virdon bit back a grin. "I agree, Urko is severely outnumbered."

Behind them, deeper voices were suddenly joining Ann's high-pitched wailing and Zana's weaker moans; the urgent drone rose to shouts and barked orders, and among it, a sound that made every hair on Virdon's body stand on end: the piercing shrill of a whistle.

"We should get going," he said, and Galen threw himself against the heavy gurney to get it moving again. They raced down the corridor, Galen providing speed, while Virdon kept it upright and on course. The construction still almost toppled over when he made a sharp left turn and dragged it into the orthopedic ward. Shouts and the sound of running feet were coming from different corridors now, converging on them.

"What are you doing?" Galen shouted. "That's not the right way to the-"

"And do you want to lead them directly to it? We'll never outrun them that way!" Virdon shouted back. Sweat was running down his back, and his heart was hammering in his chest, both from the exertion and from fear.

Burke was limp on the gurney, still and pale like a corpse. He hadn't moved once since Virdon had discovered him down at the water tower. It was beginning to unnerve him.

The ward was full with apes - fortunately, they all seemed to have undergone surgery; most of them were wearing casts, some of them lying in traction. Virdon eyed their weights while he was shoving the beds towards the door, ignoring the protests of their inhabitants. Galen, catching on to what he was doing, let go of the gurney and grabbed another bed.

Something slammed against the door from outside, and the impact jumped through the bedframe and sent a jolt through Virdon's arms up to his shoulder joints. The ape lying in that bed yelped with pain. Meanwhile, Galen's passenger tried to hit him with his cast-armoured arm, and the rest of the ward broke out in chaos, as the more mobile inhabitants tried to crawl, limp, and hobble to the other exit at the far end of the room. Those who were tied to their beds resorted to hurling their food, pill boxes, and trays at them. Everyone was screaming, either for help, or for their blood.

Pete's gurney was a still island in a churning sea.

Another blow thundered against the door and the bed angled against it, but this time, he had to evade a kick from a cast leg aimed at his groin, and couldn't put his own weight against the assault from outside. The door blade shoved both him and the bed back - just for a second, before he threw himself against it again, but it was already too late.

Virdon let go of the bed rail and jumped back as the first guard squeezed through the door; Galen had pushed almost half of the beds against this end of the room, and they were wedged into each other at various angles so that they had now formed a maze of interlocking barriers, but Virdon knew it would only buy them a few moments - the apes would just jump over them, ignoring the patients...

... the patients who were rigged in traction.

Galen seemed to have had the same inspiration - he was swinging a weight like a wrecking ball, knocking out one of the guards, then sprinting towards Burke's gurney. The counterweight he had used dropped to the floor, yanking the leg of the patient upwards. A yell and a string of curses followed him.

Virdon remembered the scalpel in his breast pocket. He cut through the rope that held the weight, ignored a new tirade as the ape's leg slammed down into the mattress, and hurled the wooden block against the door, smashing the head of another guard between doorblade and doorframe. The ape went down without a sound, and Virdon jumped over the beds to get to Galen before the ape's comrades could remove the blockage from the door.

Galen had opened the leather straps that had pinned Burke to the gurney, and had slung him over his shoulders like a dead deer. Virdon froze for a second at that image, then tried to shake off that association and to focus on the situation at hand instead. "I'll lead them away, you... you don't wait for me, understand? As soon as Zana arrives, you leave." They were out in another corridor now, Virdon pushing the empty gurney.

"And start another search and rescue mission as soon as Peet is strong enough to strangle me for losing you?" Galen shook his head emphatically. "Oh no, Alan, you better turn up in time, because we will wait until you show up."

"Or until Urko does?" If they'd had the time, Virdon would have gladly done the strangling.

"Better don't be late then." Galen jogged down the stairs to the basement, and Virdon swallowed a curse and smashed the gurney against the wall to alert their pursuers to his position.

And also because it brought him temporary relief.

He didn't have to wait long for the guards to show up, and although he didn't have to worry about Pete now, the empty gurney was still heavy and also top- heavy, and difficult to steer without a second man. Still, he tried to keep it going as long as possible, to fool the enemy into thinking that he still had their prey with him, and maybe his accomplice, too.

He let go of the thing when they started firing at him, trading deception for speed. He toyed with the thought of circling back to the waiting area at the entrance, forcing them to cease fire, but who knew if they'd rather risk a bit of collateral damage?

He might not have qualms about taking out a guard, but he wouldn't endanger civilians.

Another bullet missed him by inches and buried itself into the wall, tearing out a chunk of plaster and spraying him with tile shards. Virdon flinched involuntarily, although by then the reflex wouldn't have helped him anymore, and dove out the backdoor and into an alley that was even narrower and dirtier than the one at the main entrance.

They'd had virtually no time to get the layout of the surroundings - they had lost too much time with Galen's family drama, and when he had finally sent Galen ahead to the hospital, he had been more concerned with its internal floor plans than with escape routes outside.

At least above ground.

Virdon skidded around another corner, unconcerned about any civilian who might see him - to most of them, a human running from an angry ape wouldn't be something to spare a second glance for, anyway. Only when he turned the sixth corner, entering a small, slightly cleaner alley headed straight west, did he slow down and scan the buildings for accidental onlookers. But the street was deserted, and no curtain moved.

Virdon jumped down the storm drain and pulled the hatch shut.

The street dozed on in the amber light of late afternoon.


Zana straightened in her chair and focused on her immediate problem - the delivery ward. The thunder of boots and the shouts were muffled now, broken by the labyrinth of corridors, and the corridor they had entered was deserted. She wouldn't get a better opportunity.

"Stop... stop! I'm getting sick! Stop!" When the nurse didn't react, Zana catapulted herself out of the chair and crumpled onto the floor, moaning and making heaving noises. When she looked up, the girl was still hurrying down the corridor, pushing the empty wheelchair.

She should just let her turn the corner and then sneak away... but then Zana's eyes fell on the door in the opposite wall.

"Nurse! I think my water is breaking!"

The Chimp came to a stumbling halt and hesitantly turned around to face her, but made no move to come back. Zana silently cursed the girl's lacking sense of duty; she'd have to ramp up her act. She curled up on the floor, holding her belly. "Ooooh Mothers... oh someone help me!"

The hard soles of the nurse's shoes clattered on the floor, giving Zana a good estimation of the girl's position. When she bent down to help her back into the wheelchair, Zana grabbed her by the nape of her neck and smashed her forehead on the tiles.

The nurse fell to her knees, more because she had lost balance than from Zana's blow, and struggled to break away. Zana got up to her knees, too, and grabbed her head with both hands, but now her victim was expecting a repeat and braced her hands on the floor to avoid kissing it a second time.

Instead, Zana yanked her head sideways and smashed it into the wall.

This time, the nurse didn't put up any resistance when Zana dragged her into the broom closet. She dropped the dazed Chimp on the floor and leaned against the door to untie the cushion under her robe. The girl weakly raised her head and tried to focus her eyes on her.

"Don't make a sound," Zana warned her. "You just got randomly caught up in this mess, and I don't want to hurt you... more." Memories of Kuma flashed unbidden in her mind. How easy it was to turn into a brute if you were desperate enough...

"Take off your clothes," she ordered. When the girl didn't react, she knelt down and began to tear at her tunic. The nurse didn't put up any resistance; she was like a gigantic doll, limp and heavy. Zana glanced at her, worried that she had hurt the girl more than she had intended. But maybe she had just terrified the poor thing.

"If I was you, I'd stay in here until everything has calmed down," she told the girl when she dumped her own robe into her lap. "You don't want to run into my friends. They're armed." She remembered Alan's hand with the scalpel at Dr. Maltus' throat, his soft voice and the look in his eyes, and shivered. Yes, her friend was armed, and dangerous, and had withdrawn into a cold silence, and she didn't really know him anymore.

She opened the door a tiny crack to peer outside; the corridor was still deserted, but she could hear muffled cries and heavy thumps from somewhere that made her hesitate - had the men got caught up in a fight? With Peet still unconscious on the gurney?

For a moment, Zana hovered in the door, uncertain if she should follow the sounds and try to help, but then Alan's words echoed in her mind:

"Whatever you hear or see, you'll run straight to our meeting place. Don't come after us - you'll just distract us, or run danger to be used as a hostage... or get yourself killed. And that's something Galen would never forgive you."

If you get yourselves killed, I'll never forgive you, either.

She swallowed her tears and headed towards the exit.


The sun was already low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the cobblestones and lighting up the narrow ground-floor windows. Zana tried to walk with an air of intention, as if she really was a nurse who was on her way to the nearest apothecary. Peet had once told her that the secret to a cover identity was to 'become the mask', as he had put it - to really believe that one was the person one pretended to be.

Peet. It was hard not to break into a jog, so she just accelerated to a brisk pace. It was probably foolish to hurry that much; from the sounds she had heard, he was probably still back in the hospital, unaware of the battle raging around him.

It was hard not to turn around and run back there.

When she finally arrived at their meeting place, Zana's legs were aching from the unnatural fast walk, and her throat was dry enough to contemplate making tea, if she'd have to wait for the rest of her friends to catch up. Maybe the thought wasn't even that outlandish; after all, they were meeting up in one of Melvin's restaurants.

Melvin had claimed that the establishments were nothing but financial investments, but Zana suspected that the large Chimp was secretly dreaming of a life filled with dramatic flambés and artful hors d'oeuvres. He certainly had the talent, as the patrons of 'Orva's Delights' could confirm. But sons of Councillors became doctors and lawyers and eventually, Council members themselves; being a chef was simply unthinkable.

Right now, the restaurant was dark and silent; Melvin had selected one that was closed today. Zana slipped in through the backdoor that Melvin had unlocked for them, and paused to listen for hushed sounds of guards lying in wait for her.

Faint voices came from the guest room, but they didn't sound like whispered commands to take aim. One of them sounded like Galen. Zana's heart began to beat faster, and the ache in her throat dissolved. She quickly crossed the corridor.

At first, she only saw Melvin, and her heart dropped to the floor - had she just imagined her fiancé's voice? Then Galen rose from behind a table and turned around. He smiled tiredly at her. "I cleaned up as much as possible," he apologized, "but the restrooms are tiny..."

"To be fair, they weren't designed with people in mind who come up through the toilet," Melvin interjected, "the facilities are meant to be used the other way round." He crinkled his nose. "I'm really glad that I brought new clothes for all of you, although I had thought it'd be just because you'd have to change your appearance. I'd never have gotten the stench out of my coach."

Zana hugged Galen, ignoring the ripe smell that was still clinging to his fur, before she turned to Melvin. "Won't it raise suspicion if your coach is parked in front of a closed restaurant?"

Melvin frowned. "Why should it? I'm the owner, I can drop by for an inspection whenever I want to."

That was true, but Urko was both cunning and paranoid, and if word got to him about anything out of the ordinary, he'd sink his teeth into it and wouldn't let go until all resistance was broken. Zana doubted that Melvin would be able to handle even one session with Urko; most apes were no match to the general's brutality.

And Peet had been in his hands for almost a month...

Zana's eyes fell on her friend's still form. Galen had cleaned him up with some wet towels; a bundle of clothes was waiting on a chair. Peet was shivering slightly as the water was drying on his skin, but he still didn't open his eyes. Perhaps he didn't want to wake up.

"We need to put on his clothes," she said, "he's cooling out. Where's Alan?"

"We had to split up," Galen murmured, not looking at her. He grabbed the bundle and handed her a shirt. "He'll be here shortly. Don't worry," he added when he saw her stare, "if someone is able to take on Urko's troops, it's him."

Zana clung to that thought while she pulled the shirt over Peet's head. When she pushed him into a sitting position to draw it down over his torso, he flinched painfully and opened his eyes.

"Peet! Hello, Peet," Zana said tenderly and stroked his face.

His dark eyes slowly focused on her, then widened with sudden panic. He jerked back and scrambled away from her. He didn't recognize her. To him, she was just some random ape... someone who was going to hurt him.

Tears pricked in her eyes and blurred her vision. She had anticipated that reaction, but that didn't make the reality any more bearable. She wiped her eyes and rose. "I'll make some tea. Peet needs, needs to rehydrate..."

She stumbled towards the kitchen.

Galen caught up with her in a moment and took the kettle out of her hands. "Don't take it so personally," he said gently, "Peet has been through a lot, and he's not really awake right now. He knows you, Zana, he knows you're his friend."

"Right now, he only knows that I'm a Chimp, just like all the apes there had been Chimps," Zana said and watched him fill the kettle and put it on the stove. "And that's something that will stay with him forever. Whenever he'll look at me, his first instinctive reaction will be fear... and only after that, he'll tell himself that he doesn't have to fear this particular ape. He'll never... it'll never be the same again." And now the tears were rolling down her cheeks.

Galen lit the fire under the kettle and looked at her over his shoulder. "Don't be so pessimistic, Zana. You're not some random activist from Humans' Rights Watch who broke him out of a laboratory. You were his friend before, and you'll be friends again. He was very fond of you, you know?"

She wiped the tears away, annoyed at herself. Maybe it was all the tension and fear of this day, of all the days since she had watched the bounty hunters drag Peet away, that had turned her into a teary-eyed puddle of misery. But it wasn't over yet, and she couldn't allow herself to break down. With a determined sniff, Zana reached for the tea canister.

"You need to drink a bit of hot tea, Peet," she said firmly when she returned to him. Peet was lying on his side again, his flank moving with rapid, shallow breaths. Maybe he really had broken ribs. Maybe he had internal injuries. For a moment, Zana just stood there and stared down at him. Peet didn't just need hot tea and blankets; Peet needed a doctor, and she had no idea where to find one.

She slowly crouched down by his side, careful not to make any sudden movements, and laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but didn't move away, and she tried not to feel hurt by his reaction. Peet wasn't really coherent, and her feelings were secondary to his need.

She slowly fed him the tea in little sips, and he became sufficiently awake to recognize her and ask for Alan. "He is on his way," she reassured him, "he'll be here soon, and then we'll leave and you can sleep and heal." She wasn't sure he had understood all of it, because after some moments, he asked for Alan again, as if he had forgotten that he had just asked that question. "He is on his way," Zana repeated. "He'll be here any moment now."

Melvin poked his head over the upturned chairs on the table next to them and peered down on Peet with a mixture of pity and curiosity. "I don't want to be that person," he said, "but it won't take long for the news to reach Urko, and then all the gates will be closed as tightly as Zaius' buttcheeks during the yearly budget session. Not even my spotless reputation will get us through then." He gestured towards Peet, who had sunk back into an exhausted sleep that was close to a coma. "We'll be trapped here with one damaged and one missing human, and a very pissed off Chief General of the Cesarian City Police. Wouldn't it be smarter to at least save one of them?"

Galen heaved a sigh as if he had held that conversation before. "That wouldn't solve anything, Melv. Peet would crawl from his deathbed to find Alan, just as Alan was unstoppable in his search for Peet. They are inseparable. There simply isn't 'one of them'. Neither will ever accept the thought of leaving the other one to his fate."

"And neither do I," Zana interjected.

Melvin shook his head. "They aren't even yours, or so I gathered," he said, "you just nabbed them from the institute, just like Galen here made off with Zaius' library."

"It was just one book," Galen muttered. Melvin ignored him.

"You aren't responsible for them, you're not the owner. Why are you risking your life for them?"

"Because they would do the same for Galen or me," Zana said simply. "And I am responsible for them. We're all responsible for each other, Melvin; that's something Zaius and his caste have forgotten long ago."

For a moment, nobody spoke; just when Zana began to wonder if she had said something profoundly deep or profoundly stupid, a thump and a grunt from the restrooms announced Alan's arrival. Melvin grabbed another bundle of clothes and waddled down the corridor; Zana closed her eyes for a moment, weak with relief.

Maybe they would make it back to safety, after all.

When they finally filed out the front door, the shadows had grown long and darker, and the sky was a hazy pink high above the dusk-filled street. Melvin held open the door to his coach and ushered them inside as if he was the servant and not the grey haired human that perched on the coachman's seat. Galen was carrying Peet again, as he would not be slowed down by the human's weight thanks to his superior simian strength. Alan went last, his hand resting lightly between Zana's shoulder blades. He scanned the street a last time before he followed her inside, his eyes cold and alert. He was still in predator mode; Zana hoped he would lose it once they were out of danger. She missed the mellow, smiling human he had been before.

Melvin drew the curtains shut as soon as they were all inside, and rapped against the front wall to signal the driver to start moving. He sank down on the seat with a heavy sigh and gestured to the floor. "Get down," he said to Alan. "When the guards poke their heads through the window, I don't want you to be the first thing they see." To Zana's surprise - and relief, the human sat down on the floor of the coach without a word of protest. He probably wanted to be at Peet's side anyway, Zana reasoned; she couldn't imagine that he'd obey Melvin under any circumstances.

She stared at the dark curtains, imagining the streets of her childhood sinking into the shadows of evening, the bright white light of the street lamps and the golden glow of candles in the windows flickering to life, like stars shining up into the sky - an island of light in a sea of black wilderness.

"I haven't even seen my father while I was here," she whispered.

Galen laid a hand on her arm. "It would have been too dangerous..."

"I know. But I feel I won't be coming back here in his lifetime." She tried to sound factual; she wasn't very successful. "I hope your mother will be alright - Urko will try to pin his failure on your parents."

"If Urko had the power to arrest my father, he would have done so already," Galen said dryly. "Mothers know he tried! But he can't prove that my mother had anything to do with Peet's escape, and since his and Alan's existence are a state secret, he can't publicly prosecute her. What would he accuse her of? My father would rip him apart in court!"

Zana thought it strange how proud he sounded, considering the relationship between father and son, but said nothing. For Ann's sake, she had to hope that Galen's faith in his father's prowess was justified.

The coach rumbled through the gates and into the silent darkness of the Northern road without a hitch; Zana could only speculate what kept Urko distracted from his pursuit of them. Conversations had died down a while ago, and she didn't feel like starting one, either; her eyes were drooping shut from exhaustion. Melvin hadn't lit the lantern inside the coach, and she only sensed Alan's presence by the heat radiating from his body, and the faint stench that still lingered in his hair.

Although, to be fair, the same could be said about Galen beside her.

"How badly is he injured?" she finally asked no one in particular. Somehow, it was easier in the darkness, where she couldn't glean the answer from the expression in their faces, their eyes. She had to wait for the words... and the darkness would hide her reaction as well.

After a long while, Alan spoke up in a low voice. "It's too soon to say. I hope they'll have a... a veterinarian in that monastery. One who treats humans." It was hard to tell if he sounded bitter.

"But he'll... he'll survive!" Zana held her breath. Please say that he will. Please tell me that we weren't too late!

But when Alan spoke again, his voice was heavy with foreboding.

"It's too soon to say..."


The heavy scent of jasmine hung in the air, torn from a thousand tiny white flowers by a light, but steady rain. Wet sandstones, dividing the gardens of the monastery into tidy combs, gleamed weakly in the gray light of early morning.

"I cannot thank you enough for your help." Galen ducked his head to avoid the dripping vine of a pole bean that had rebelliously let go of its trellis. "I hope you won't get in trouble upon your return. If Urko suspects that your nightly excursion had anything to do with us... I mean, it does coincide with the brouhaha at the hospital..."

"Oh, I'm not returning to the City right now." Melvin plucked a tomato and popped it into his mouth. "I'm visiting my father's estate," he said, chewing, "and since he had ordered me to come back and settle an inheritance dispute for his accountant, I have a perfectly valid reason to leave."

Galen smiled and shook his head. Melvin was as unruffled as ever; he wondered if his old student buddy had ever really grasped the danger he had put himself in when he agreed to aid them in their "little adventure."

Well, maybe he had. Maybe there was a sharper mind and kinder heart under all the pomp and flair than Galen had given him credit for.

"I wish I could stay a little longer and finally learn what that book is about," Melvin said. "Something that has old Zaius in such a pickle must be a fascinating read." He flicked Galen a sideways glance.

"It is fascinating," Galen confirmed. "But it could also cost you your head. You have a good life, Melvin - you should hang on to that. Forget about that book."

"Wish you could put it back and forget about it?" Melvin's eyes were sharp, although wry amusement was still twinkling in their corners.

Galen sighed and gazed over the rows of pole beans and summer squash. "If I started that, there'd be no end to wishing. If Zana hadn't defied Zaius... but how could I wish for her to become a murderer? If she hadn't met the humans... if the humans hadn't fallen down on our world..." He shrugged and resumed his walk. "The only way that leaving that book alone would have saved me from this... this life as an outcast, would've been if I had never met Zana, and how could I wish for that? So if it doesn't make a difference... then I prefer to know the truth."

"And what if others would also prefer to know the truth?" Melvin was busy harvesting tomatoes and collecting them in his robe. "Maybe they'd like to decide for themselves, instead of having you making that decision for them. Or Zaius."

Galen froze. "I'm not like Zaius!"

"No?" Melvin half turned to face him. "Then don't presume to tell me to forget about that book. I can imagine that it feels good to know something that nobody else knows - I wouldn't tell you my recipe for Orva's Special Dip, either - but if you really think that this book holds a truth that apekind needs to know about, you should stop hugging it to your chest and telling the rest of us that it's too dangerous for us to know. Next thing you know, you'll lock it up in a secret room behind your office."

"Feel free to spend the next ten days sharing Ango's cell then," Galen said, miffed, "or how ever many days Peet needs to recover, and read away. You just need to come up with a really good reason why you're holing up here, instead of settling that inheritance thing of yours."

"I'm trying to win poor little Ango back for Aunt Gila's stud farm," Melvin said, unperturbed. "She needs a successor, and Ango failed to produce an heir before he found his god. She'll be eternally grateful for me to have at least tried, and my whole family can attest to Ango's pigheadedness, so naturally, it would take some days to talk sense into him." He winked at Galen. "I never run out of excuses - that's why I'm such an excellent defense lawyer."

Galen stared at him. "You're really planning to stay?"

"Nah." Melvin slapped his shoulder. "My father would kill me. He needs that accountant, and the poor bastard can't put two and two together anymore since that dispute escalated. But we should find a way to stay in touch somehow. I admit, I'm curious what will become of you. Actually, that's something the whole class wondered about, back when you were still procrastinating at university."

"That will be difficult... impossible, actually," Galen said. "I have no idea where I'll be from one day to the next, so how would you answer my letters?"

Melvin shrugged. "Some day you'll settle down - as soon as you're outside Cesarea's dominion, I'd wager, what with the baby underway..."

"It was just a rolled up blanket-"

"Anyway, as soon as you've found a permanent residence, you could send me the address, and in the meantime, you could send me excerpts from that book."

It was a tempting offer. To spread the truth, under Zaius' nose... he had promised Dolan the same, Galen remembered with a pang of guilt, but had completely forgotten to make good on that promise.

Maybe Melvin was right. Maybe he was slowly turning into the Chimpanzee version of Zaius, jealously guarding his terrible, earth-shaking secret, enjoying the sweet exclusivity of being the one who knew... who was somehow elevated above the rest of apekind for that knowledge.

Maybe it was time to break that spell.

"That is an excellent idea," he said. "With one tiny problem: where should I send these copies? It needs only one of them to reach Urko instead of you, and you're dead. I don't want your head on my conscience, Melv, as annoying as it is sometimes."

"For an ape who's so widely read, I notice a sad lack of crime novels in your repertoire," Melvin said, "otherwise you'd have immediately thought of a dead drop where you can deposit the letters."

"A dead drop," Galen repeated.

Melvin nodded empathically. "This monastery gets heaps of letters! Mostly prayer requests, but our Ango is a gifted gardener, and apparently, he's sending out a monthly letter with gardening advice, and he has also created a calendar with gardening tips... he even asked me if I didn't want to contribute some recipes... anyway, he gets a lot of mail, too. You could write to him and use a code word on the envelope." He hesitated for a moment, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

Galen thought that Melvin was getting all too enamoured with this whole clandestine operations idea. "Fine. So I'll write 'operation beanstalk' on the envelope, and then Ango knows to forward those letters to you."

Melvin stared at him with raised brows for a moment, as if he was questioning Galen's sincerity, then he shook his head. "I'd go with something less extravagant," he said, "maybe 'rare seed exchange' - everyone thinks it's about local tomato varieties, when in truth, the letters contain... The Seeds of Change!"

Melvin was one of the few apes who could sound capitals, Galen thought wryly. But he nodded, resigned. "Alright, I'll send you - or Ango - copies of the chapters whenever I find the time to actually copy them. Considering our situation, don't expect regular mail."

"And you'll use the code word?"

"I'll use the code word," Galen said indulgently. Melvin slapped his shoulder again.

"Great! This is the beginning of a wonderful project!"

Knowing Melvin's definition of adventure, Galen didn't dare to speculate what that 'project' would entail; he was just glad that he'd be miles and miles away from it.

They had reached the gate of the monastery. Melvin turned to clasp Galen's hand; then he drew him into an unexpected hug.

"Great things are going to happen, Galen," he said. "I can feel it in my gut. The City is ripe for a change!"

Galen patted his back and suddenly wished he had never written that note to Melvin. Had never roped him into this "adventure," had never shown him a glimpse of his dangerous, exciting, deadly new life.

"Whatever changes may come, old friend," he said hoarsely, "stay safe. Stay safe, Melv."


Pete was sitting upright in bed when Virdon toed open the door and poked his head in. He was staring out of the small window that opened to the monastery's gardens; only when Virdon set the tray down on the covers did he slowly turn his head, and warily eyed the cup and covered bowl on it.

"Told ya I don't want no drugs," he muttered.

Virdon raised a brow. "The tea is meant to speed up the healing of your contusions, Pete - god knows they're big enough to need all the medical support these people can provide. It won't make you drowsy." He handed the cup to his friend who hesitated for a long moment before he took it and cautiously sniffed at it.

"Eh." Pete made a face. "But it'll make me puke."

"Try to keep it down," Virdon advised, determined not to let Burke's bad mood affect him, "I don't think your ribs will take kindly to you retching. Speaking of which." He uncovered the bowl with flourish. "Time to smear some more goop on them." Pete's ribs had been broken, though luckily, none of them had pierced the lung, or so the monastery's physician had assured them. They didn't have a veterinarian, but in a moment of grace, the monk had decided that simian and human bodies were similar enough that he would agree to treat Burke.

In the end, it was Virdon who attended him, under the direction of physician Norel - except for the initial examination, when Pete had been too out of it to object, he didn't let any ape come close enough to touch him. Virdon couldn't really fault him for his reaction, but it worried him that his friend didn't even make an exception for Galen and Zana.

Right now, his job was to change the dressing on Pete's ribs and reapply the herbal paste that Norel mixed up for him daily. It didn't smell too horrible, and it seemed to dissolve the black bruising pretty quickly, though Virdon didn't assume to know how quickly these things healed under normal circumstances.

He suppressed a sigh when Pete didn't react, and covered the bowl again. "Take your time," he said and gestured at the tea. "We need to talk anyway." He drew the only chair in the room towards the bed and sat down.

Pete frowned at him over the rim of his cup. "Do you expect me to cry in your arms while I tell you exactly how Urko buggered me with a broom?"

Virdon rubbed his chin to cover his unease. Knowing Burke, he had half expected him to be on the defense, but it didn't make dealing with it any easier. He wasn't a therapist; this world didn't even know the concept of psychotherapy, and what service was provided by the priests was meant for, and tailored to apes, not humans. He just had to navigate this minefield as best as he could.

"This is not about your suffering, Pete," he said finally, "although whenever you need to talk about what happened to you, I'm here to listen... as your friend. I don't presume to treat you." He glanced at him with a tentative smile, but Burke was staring into his cup. "We need to determine the amount of information Urko managed to obtain from you," Virdon continued. "I'm aware that whatever you gave away was done under torture, so this isn't about blame. But we need to know if we have to warn anyone who is in danger now due to it."

Burke emptied his cup in one draw and put it back on the tray. His face betrayed no emotion. "Let's get this over with, then."

Virdon leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. "Right. You were captured about a month ago-"

"That long?" For the first time, Burke seemed disturbed. "Felt longer," he mumbled, and Virdon fought the urge to apologize. Hell, he was sorry they hadn't found him sooner, but they had done their best and now was not the time-

He decided to cut to the chase. "Did you give Urko any names?"

Burke nodded without looking up. "Yeah, but- that was all made-up names, y'know? Like, like, Lincoln, and Jesse James... I mean, they aren't really made up, but I'm pretty sure there's no ape with the name of Elmer Fudd running around."

Virdon found this was a golden opportunity to lighten things up a bit. "Elmer Fudd? What else did you give them, Bugs Bunny?"

A tiny smile tugged at Burke's lips. "King Kong."

Virdon stared at him, stunned. Then he broke into laughter. "King Kong?"

Burke began to chuckle. "Urko didn't bat an eye..." The chuckle broadened into laughter. "Just... just told his goon to... to write it down... with the others..." They were both bellowing with laughter now, and Burke winced, and held his ribs, and they still couldn't stop laughing; whenever their hilarity began to ebb off, one of them would snort, or say "King Kong," and prompt another round of giggles.

It felt good to laugh; Virdon wiped his eyes and sighed. Burke had laid his head back against the wall, looking exhausted, but not as tense as before anymore. Virdon regretted having to sour his mood again.

"Was that the only occasion where they asked you to give them a list of contacts?"

Burke closed his eyes. "No. 'course not. They were asking me the same damn questions all the fucking time. Who hid us from the patrols? Who gave us food? Which humans helped us, which apes? What were their names, what route did we travel, the names of the villages we came through..." His hand made circles in the air. "Round an' round an' round we went. It's all... blurred. I can't... I can't really remember much, which is strange, I mean you said I was there for a month..."

He hesitated. Virdon waited.

"There was another... another interrogator. Vanda. She was... she was okay."

Virdon wisely said nothing.

"I mean, she wasn't okay okay, she was still the enemy, but compared to Urko..." Burke snorted, still not opening his eyes. "Hell, compared to Urko, everyone would seem okay. But she never, uhm, beat me, or, or..." He trailed off again. After a while, he continued.

"She gave me water. And something to eat. One day, she gave me dates. That was... that was like heaven. Never liked them before, but at that point, I would've eaten anything. Even rats. But dates were definitely better."

Virdon listened.

"An' yeah, she asked me questions, too," Burke said defensively and opened his eyes, "and we talked about all kinds of things-"

"Like what, for example?"

Burke shrugged. "All kinds of... hypothetical scenarios. A lot of 'what ifs' and 'suppose this or that had happened'... no idea what she got out of it. We talked about Cross River..."

Virdon raised his brows. "Cross River as in Nigeria?"

Burke frowned. "No, wait... that wasn't with her... that was with my old man... got a visit from him down there..." He slapped his hand on the cover with a frustrated sigh. "It gets all mixed up in my head! All mixed up... I think I dreamed that with my father," he added sheepishly, "not that I got much sleep..."

"It would explain why you're having problems remembering what happened," Virdon said cautiously. "Sleep deprivation messes with your brain. It's called 'white torture', just like withholding food and water-"

"Yeah, I sat through SERE, too!" Burke snapped.

"Try to go backwards, then," Virdon suggested, keeping his tone neutral. "Start with what you can remember most clearly..." He broke off when he saw Burke blanch; a fine sheen of sweat appeared on his upper lip.

Virdon rubbed his brow. "Alright," he said. "That was a stupid suggestion."

"I can't remember every thing that happened," Burke said miserably. "I'm sorry, Sir... I just can't. It's gone, and the rest is just a jumble, with no head nor tails." He swallowed heavily. "I blew it, right? Innocent people are gonna die because of me."

Virdon drew his upper lip through his teeth, wondering what words could possibly deliver his friend from his agony. "White torture is the most insidious thing people have ever thought up - it messes with your brain chemistry, with your neural pathways, with your whole body... and your brain is an inextricable part of your body. They used your body's chemistry against you, and there is nothing you can do against that, it's just laws of biology that were working against you."

He leaned forward in his chair. "Now listen to me, Major! Giving in under torture, especially this... this progressive kind, isn't a question of will, or of virtue. It's a question of basic physiology, and that means that in the end, everyone breaks. Everyone. Neither your character nor your honor are called into question, do you understand me?"

Burke didn't answer, staring at his bandaged fists.

"Pete."

Only when Burke finally met his gaze, did he continue. "You fought them with everything you had. You resisted." He smiled wryly. "You gave them King Kong."

It took a while, but finally, Burke returned his grin, equally lopsided.

"Don't worry about the people who helped us," Virdon took the bowl from the tray. "Zana is still in contact with Lora, I'll see to it that word gets out to her, and she'll do the rest." He looked up. "You did well, Pete," he said softly. "Don't beat yourself up over names you probably never gave them."

"I jus' can't stop wondering," Burke murmured.

"As I said, leave that to me and Zana... and Lora." He took the lid off the bowl. "Now take off your shirt and lay on your back. I need to change your-"

"That sounded way more suggestive than you probably intended," Burke muttered and reached behind himself for the hem of his collar to pull the shirt over his head.

"Probably," Virdon deadpanned. "You'll never know for sure." He cooped up some of the goo. "It's not 9 1/2 Weeks, but it'll have to do..."