When Alan finally returned, Zana was ready to kill someone.
No, scratch that. She was ready to kill Galen.
When he had brought Alan back to the inn, Zana had been too distracted by the human's desolate appearance to ask Galen what had happened; and when it had finally occurred to her that her fiancé must've found out what his business partner had done to their friend - he had to, when he had called off the deal, at the latest! - Galen had already vanished into town again, to commission the "missing human" posters he had talked about the previous day.
But that had been in the morning! And now it was already late afternoon! Galen was avoiding her, Zana was absolutely sure of it. She had been forced to wait in the inn all day, pacing the few steps from door to window, from table to stove, from main room to bedroom, not daring to leave for fear of missing either of the men when they'd come back, and raging silently at them for condemning her to inaction. The day had slowed down with every passing atseht.
Sure enough, her fiancé's head poked through the door right after Alan had entered, and Zana caught a whiff of pipe tobacco wafting in together with Galen. He had spent the day at some pub or other, whether to avoid her until Alan came back - and she wouldn't be able to ask him the questions she was burning to ask - or because he hadn't shaken the habit that he had acquired in Sapan. She didn't know, and she didn't care. Either reason was unacceptable. She was ready to hurl the water kettle at his head.
But they had more pressing things to discuss now. And he wouldn't be able to evade her forever.
Zana took some deep, measured breaths, and sat down at the table, carefully folding her hands on the tabletop. "Did you find the street humans again, Alan? What did they say?"
Alan slowly crossed the room and sat down at the table. His limp was more pronounced, Zana noticed, and his face was no longer just pale anymore, it was gray. He would absolutely lie down and sleep after his report, she silently decided, even if it meant she'd have to hurl the water kettle at his head.
"They found me," Alan said, and tiredly rubbed his eyes. "I managed to get a lead from them - the name of the pub where one can place bets on the fighters."
"But that's... excellent, Alan!" Zana said, excited. "That means we have a real chance to find Peet! We just need to place a bet, and-"
"It's not that simple," Alan interrupted her. "Man fighting is illegal, even here, so these apes will be a close-knit group of insiders. They'll be wary of any stranger strolling in and declaring they want to take part in the fun. I'm sure the local police has already tried to infiltrate them. And with Galen pinning his Wanted posters all over town, they'll know we're looking for Pete, too."
"I, I... should I take them down again?" Galen had been puttering around with the teapot; now he turned around, looking at once embarrassed and eager. Welcoming another pretense to vanish for hours, Zana thought sourly.
Alan shook his head. "They've already been up for almost a day - won't make a difference anymore."
"Well, according to the chief of police, runaway humans are a common occurence here, so I don't think these posters will raise too much attention," Zana said thoughtfully. "And Galen is a real outsider - he's not from Etissa, he's not even from the mountains, so they wouldn't suspect that he was working for the local police, right?"
"Probably not," Alan agreed. "Provided he can convince them that he's also a scumbag who doesn't care for the law."
They both turned in their seats to contemplate Galen, who froze under their scrutiny, tea canister in hand.
"You were pretty convincing as a guard," Zana said after a moment. "You even fooled Nelva."
"I... I'm not sure that commends me for the role of someone who holds the law in contempt," Galen said weakly.
"You already used a number of different identities," Alan remarked, "and so far, you've played them all pretty convincingly. Do you think you can be a hard-drinking, gambling, tough-as-nails trader who loves the thrill of watching humans kill each other?"
"Well, he already has two out of three down pat," Zana said under her breath.
If Alan had caught her words, he didn't let it show. "That part of town is off-limits to all humans. Only an ape can follow this lead."
Galen heaved a sigh. "Well. It seems I need to expand my repertoire to playing criminals, then. Do you have a plan - other than me finding that pub and, uh, winging it, as Peet always calls it?"
"Not really," Alan said, rubbing his face. Trying to keep himself from falling asleep at the table, Zana suspected.
"Pero only knows about that pub because last winter, his gang was so starved that they dared to sneak into the backyard of the pub to search their trash cans for food." Alan's voice had sunk to a murmur. "He lurked at the backdoor to warn the others when one of the patrons was about to come out to take a piss, so he overheard a bit of their conversations. The organizers constantly change locations to evade the town watch. They not only take bets at that pub, they also announce when and where those fights will happen."
"So I go in and, and play a round of keppa, and try to catch sight of a teller?" Galen sounded sarcastic, a sure sign that he was distressed.
"I can't tell you what an opportunity will look like," Alan said monotonously, rubbing his eyes again. "The situation in there will be very volatile, and require quick thinking..."
"Just like in Urko's headquarters, when Nelva suddenly appeared in the corridor," Zana cut in. "And you reacted immediately, and saved both our lives. Don't underestimate yourself, dear - you're so much smarter than these bloodthirsty baboons!"
Galen smiled weakly, obviously unconvinced. But he just said, "Better give me the address then, before you fall off your chair, Alan. If I hurry, I could still catch their happy hour."
"You want to go now?" Zana said, shocked. Things were moving so quickly, all of a sudden.
"The sooner I go, the sooner we'll get Peet back," Galen sensibly pointed out. "And the sooner we'll get out of Etissa."
"He's right," Alan said, before Zana could protest, and quickly described the route to the pub, an establishment that went by the somewhat suggestive name of 'The Dripping Orchid'. Zana decided not to think too deeply about the implication.
Instead, she focused on the human. "You, Alan Vere-donn, will go to bed immediately," she said sternly. "Or I'll have to use brute force, and you know that apes are stronger than humans. I have a water kettle at my disposal, and I'm not afraid to use it."
Alan didn't even smile at her weak attempt at joking. "I should go with Galen." He rose. "I have a feeling that he'll need the cavalry at some point." He drew a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, and when he stared down at her, all the fatigue was gone from his face.
Zana jumped to her feet. "Both of you sit down!" she snapped. "Now."
To her surprise, both men obeyed after a moment of stunned silence.
"I had to wait the whole day until you two came back," Zana said. "Worrying myself sick , imagining all kinds of horrible scenarios for Peet. I know we must hurry. I want to hurry to his rescue. But look at you! Alan, you're ready to fall on your face, and I assure you, it'll happen in the worst possible moment! That won't help Peet, it won't help Galen, it might even endanger him. And you-" she turned to Galen, " will need Alan's help. Don't pretend otherwise.
"So we'll prepare for this rescue mission by resting. There's still light outside, so we can - and we must - afford an atseht or two to get into shape. We need to have all our faculties intact, and right now, Alan, you're like a walking corpse. So go to bed! That's an order!"
For the first time since Alan had returned, Zana thought that the ghost of a smile on his face actually reached his eyes. They had softened a bit. She was pretty sure of it.
"Yes'm," Alan murmured, and turned towards the door to the humans' room. Zana watched him shuffle through it, and thought that Alan seemed to have aged ten years in those few days.
"Are we going to lie down, too?" Galen asked innocently, and Zana kept her gaze on the door to Alan's room for a moment longer, until she was sure that she wouldn't use the water kettle on her fiancé.
Here was her golden opportunity to grill him about Alan's abusive employer. And she couldn't use it, because finding Peet was even more urgent.
"No, dear," she said finally, and gave him her sweetest, insincere smile. "We'll work on your cover."
Virdon woke up with a jolt, heart racing. It was still light outside; he couldn't have slept for longer than maybe an hour. It hadn't felt like sleep, more like falling unconscious on the bed. He didn't remember having dreamed. His pants and sheets were drenched with sweat, the mattress under him hot and damp.
The rapid thumping in his chest didn't calm down, and he began feeling dizzy and nauseous. It didn't... it didn't calm down...
Virdon sat up quickly and pressed his fist against his breastbone, willing his heart to slow down. Instead it seemed to pick up speed even more.
I'm... I'm having a heart attack...
New sweat broke from his skin at that thought. He couldn't get a heart attack now! He had to help Galen to find Pete, he had to... He took a deep breath, another one, straining against the tight feeling around his chest, the feeling of not being able to get in enough air...
He had to be fit for the mission. He couldn't die in his bed from a heart attack. That would be too - too stupid. Senseless. It just couldn't happen.
He shakily crawled out of bed and limped over to the wash bucket. He dunked his head in; too late it occurred to him that shocking himself with cold water might not be the best strategy to fend off a heart attack. But when he came up gasping, his heart was still hammering against his ribs, so he hadn't shocked himself into cardiac arrest, so... maybe... maybe he didn't have a heart attack.
Virdon shook off his damp pants and used the washrag to clean himself up, trying to ignore the tremor in his limbs and his still galloping heart.
I'm not having a heart attack. This isn't a heart attack. This is... whatever this is, it'll go away on its own. I'm not going to die in here. Not today. It's not a heart attack...
But what was it? Nothing had happened to set this off, he had been asleep...
The drug.
Virdon froze.
They had drugged him with Blaze... only once, thank God, and the second time hadn't been the full dose... but a lot of drugs only needed one shot to make the user addicted to them. What if Blaze was like heroin? What if he was a junkie now, and his body was freaking out because it was already going through withdrawal?
How bad could this get? People could die from withdrawal reactions.
As if on cue, the dizziness got worse. Virdon grabbed the rim of the bucket to keep himself from bowling over, listening helplessly to the rushing sound in his ears, as his heart violently pressed the blood through his veins.
Not now... now isn't a good time...
What if... what if he'd get a bit of Blaze... not enough to... to... He didn't know if the nausea was part of the symptoms, or a reaction to the memory of his Blaze- induced high.
Not enough for... that... just enough to mollify his upset metabolism, to make him functional until they had found Burke... and would finally leave this cesspool of a town...
And where do you want to get that shot? Ramor? He'd give it to you alright, but not just a bit. He'd want you to earn that drug.
It wouldn't do the ape any good - Virdon doubted that he'd be able to impregnate any of his women now, not after those two days of constant abuse. Men didn't store inexhaustible amounts of sperm in their testicles, a fact that had obviously escaped the breeder; but then he probably wasn't under such a tight time constraint when using his own males.
Still. It would be prostitution, no matter if Ramor got his due or not. And Virdon couldn't bring himself to seriously consider that option. Not even to alleviate his suffering. Not even to find Burke.
But maybe to give in to my own base urges?
A new wave of nausea hit him, and he gagged, faintly relieved that it had been so long since had last eaten. This time, he was sure the nausea was due to the self-loathing he felt. You want to mindlessly fuck some janes? That's what you want? And not even take responsibility for it, because you'd be doing it under the influence. Unable to control yourself.
Well, you are unable to control yourself, don't use that damn stuff as your fig leaf.
With a groan, he pushed away from the bucket and came to his feet. He was trembling uncontrollably, and all the symptoms - his racing heart, the nausea, the dizziness, the cold sweat - were intensifying to the point where he wanted to punch the wall, or curl up on his mattress and die.
He couldn't do either. He couldn't die, and he couldn't alert Galen and... Zana. The thought of her finding out what was wrong with him brought on a new wave of shame, and Virdon limped to the window and threw it open, hoping that the fresh air would maybe help. Or the sights and sounds outside.
Outside were only apes. Virdon turned away from the window with new despair. He wanted to go home, to a place where he'd see only humans milling about when he looked out of the window. People. His people.
But that wasn't an option anymore. Because he... because he had failed. He hadn't found a new home for humanity, no escape route to a safe haven; if it hadn't been for Burke, he'd have been blissfully unaware of Jones' betrayal until the last moment. Even so, they had been too late to stop the maniac.
And Chris? I'll find a way home, no matter what. But Burke was right - they would never fly home in a spaceship. The most they could hope for was to alert ANSA somehow, to come and get them.
And now Sally...
All my promises... I failed to live up to any of them.
He had rejected Ehme, yes, but it had cost him more effort than it should rightfully have. He had made a vow to Sally when they had married - to be faithful to her, to not even consider other women...
In that room, he hadn't just considered them. He had thrown himself upon them, so eager to lose himself in their warmth, their scent, their...
Stop thinking about that!
If this was withdrawal, he would suffer it; it wasn't nearly sufficient as punishment, but he'd think of something to... what? Do penance? Virdon huffed and vigorously rubbed his face, trying to get ahold of himself. This was ridiculous. He couldn't erase the days in Ramor's keep. He couldn't... make up for it.
All he could do was hope that he hadn't gotten any of the women pregnant... hope that the drug hadn't kicked his sperm production into overdrive... and focus on the here and now. Pete. The illegal fighting. The pub.
He still had an obligation to Burke. Pete was still his subordinate-
Virdon paused.
That familiar feeling - a mixture of fondness and exasperation when he thought of Burke, tinged with the occasional bout of focused concern whenever his friend had managed to get himself into trouble again - was missing. He felt... he felt nothing. Just a gray indifference. He still knew that he loved his brother-in-arms, but it was an abstract knowledge, just like the knowledge that it was his duty to find and rescue him.
You just proved without a doubt that you're a man who chooses self-gratification over honor, when push comes to shove. Why are you so surprised now that you can't grasp the meaning of it when it comes to your duties as an officer? Just because you've been a hypocrite before doesn't mean you can keep up that ruse now. Not after what happened on Ramor's... Ramor's stud farm.
Virdon drew a deep breath, then another one. So be it! He could go on pretending to be a man of honor for the others, if need be.
Just not for himself anymore.
But he still knew his duty, and he'd go and drag Burke out of this latest mess of his one more time. And then... and then...
He had no idea what to do then. What to do with his new-found self-awareness. His purpose... his promise... all had become meaningless.
Focus on what's urgent now. Philosophize later.
He needed to get those damn symptoms under control! And he didn't have the time to just ride them out - one of the apes could open the door any moment now, and Virdon didn't want to imagine what they'd think if they saw him in his current state, naked and trembling.
He had to work off the energy somehow; but punching the wall, as tempting as it was right now, would only alert the apes in the next room.
After a moment's consideration, Virdon opted for some good old pushups, first with both arms, then, as the tension didn't abate, one-armed. The exertion did at least succeed in calming his racing thoughts. Balancing on one arm - and pushing his body up with it - was more difficult than he remembered it from his days in the military. Perhaps he should take up his old regimen again-
"Alan, we're read... what are you doing? I thought you were supposed to sleep?" Galen didn't sound irritated, for once, just utterly confused.
Virdon didn't look up. He had just found a rhythm that worked, and slowly began to feel as if he was returning to his body again. "'m coming."
"Well... whenever you're ready," Galen said cautiously. "Zana and I are in the other room." He closed the door with a soft click.
Virdon switched to the left arm.