“You saw it?”
“Yes, sir, we did.”
“Did they see you?”
The captain shook his head. “No, sir. They were too busy. They seemed to be holding some kind of a council. Probably a council of war. I’ll bet that Caesar was reporting to them on his reconnaissance. One day soon they’ll be coming for us.”
“No,” snapped Kolp. “We’re going for them. Now.”
Méndez groaned.
“Go and alert your men. You know your orders.”
“Yes, sir.” The captain saluted and left.
Kolp beckoned to Alma.
“Yes, Mr. Kolp?” Her eyes were bright.
“Come with me. Méndez, you stay here and oversee the preparations.” He led Alma out of the room. “I want to give you some special instructions.”
“Yes, sir. Special instructions. Oh! Yes, sir!” She practically bounced along to keep up with him.
Kolp was in a state of fanatical euphoria. He half-strode, half-waddled, Alma beside him, through huge piles of supplies and scavenged materials from the ruined city. There were piles of rusty tin cans, pieces of ancient automobiles, old tires, bottles, stone columns, street and highway signs, street lights, and other useful and useless debris. The area was some kind of blasted tunnel, perhaps an old subway station. Now it was a warehouse, with mutants moving in frenzied preparation for the attack. They were pulling supplies from piles and loading dilapidated old trucks. There was a dusty school bus and a rickety-looking Cadillac. There were motorcycles and jeeps and even an armored troop carrier.
“We must destroy the whole zoo, Alma,” Kolp was muttering. “Once and for all, we must destroy them. It is not enough to merely cage a dangerous animal.”
“I don’t quite . . . I don’t quite understand.” She frowned.
He stopped and took her by the shoulders. She thrilled to his touch. “You will, you will.” He pulled her through a side passage into a makeshift missile silo. The chamber was gray and featureless, strewn with rubble. And it was dominated by a huge cylindrical object.
Kolp gestured at it, expansively. “Beautiful,” he sighed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Alma nodded, without comprehension.
He turned back to her. “Alma, we’ve worked together for a long time, haven’t we?”
“Eleven years and three months, Mr. Kolp.”
“Yes.” He stepped close to her, his eyes gleaming. “There’s trust between us, isn’t there?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed huskily. “Oh, yes.”
“And more than trust—right?”
“Oh, yes.” Her eyes were wide with anticipation.
“There’s . . . friendship . . . isn’t there, Alma?”
Alma sighed almost wistfully. “Yes, Mr. Kolp. There’s friendship.”
“Alma, will you undertake a task that I can only entrust to a true friend?”
“What task, Mr. Kolp?”
Kolp pointed at the huge object behind him. “Do you know what this is?”
“Of course, Mr. Kolp. It’s our nuclear missile.”
Kolp went up to it and stroked its shaft. “It’s operational. Did you know that?” He gestured to her, and she approached timidly. He kept stroking the shaft of the missile as he reached out and took her hand. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Come closer, Alma,” he whispered. She did so. “Touch it,” he commanded. She extended her other hand and pressed her fingertips against the cold metal surface, then her whole palm. She began stroking the weapon in time with Kolp. The smooth steel felt so clean, so strong.
“If the impossible should happen, Alma,” Kolp said. “If we’re defeated by the apes, I will not surrender to animals.” He squeezed her hand and held it tighter. “Neither will my soldiers. If retreat seems necessary, I shall send you a coded radio signal. Fifteen minutes after you receive it, you will range this missile on Ape City and activate it.”
Alma breathed throatily, “Yes, Mr. Kolp, I will. I can do it from the main control console. What will the signal be?”
Kolp looked at her carefully. “Alpha and Omega,” he said slowly.
Alma repeated, “Alpha and Omega.”
He nodded. “You’re a good girl, Alma.”
She looked at him adoringly.
And at last he noticed her. “And a pretty one too.”
They were still stroking the missile. Their hands moved together across its steel skin. Neither seemed to notice it any more, though. Kolp leaned forward, closer and closer, and kissed her. She kissed him back. Deeply. She stepped closer and slid her arms around his wide frame. “Alpha and Omega,” she breathed. “I will be your tool.”
Then and only then did Kolp take his slowly moving hand off of his weapon. He pulled Alma close against him and kissed her again. And again.
SIX
In Ape City the preparations blurred together.
Aldo inspected his troops. They were big and hulking and sloppy. They were dirty and hunched over, and they stood in long, irregular lines. The stench of them was unbelievable. But Aldo was happy. They were good, strong gorillas. But they needed weapons. “Guns!” insisted Aldo. “We need guns!”
Caesar directed the other chimpanzees and the orangutans in the laying out of borders and defense lines. They surveyed the areas around Ape City, trying to decide the best places for their troops to make a stand. They began building woven-branch walls across the slopes below the main part of the city. They brought in wooden furniture and heavy-looking carts as well—anything that could be used as a barricade.
Aldo trained his gorillas. They used swords and wooden shields; but they pretended that they had guns; they used sticks and branches and went through bayonet drill. They marched and practiced drills from the Manual of Arms. “We need guns!” insisted Aldo. He led his troops in mock battles against each other. Cavalry combat. Infantry attacking up ridges. Defenders holding off attackers. But always, “We need guns!”
Virgil organized a group of chimps and orangutans. They dug traps and covered them with branches and grass; they dug trenches and set stakes in them. Caesar oversaw the work and was pleased with it. He directed them to raise nets into the trees, so that they could be dropped down onto the road to entrap the enemy.
Aldo inspected his troops again. They were stronger than ever. And they were neater. Their lines were now straight and polished. The gorillas were a new Wehrmacht, fiercer and more horrifying than the one that had marched the Earth only a few generations before. Their black leather uniforms gleamed. Their boots gleamed. Their swords were raised in upright salute. And they shouted in unison: “We want guns!”
Lisa watched all of this and wept. She was angry and frustrated, torn between her love for Caesar and her revulsion for what was happening to the city and people she loved.
Every night when Caesar returned from his preparations, she pleaded with him. “On the night of the Fires,” she said, “you swore an oath that in the future apes and humans would live together in friendship and peace. You swore that we would build a new kind of world, a world where there would be no war. Yet . . . yet, now you allow the gorillas to play at the war they’ve always demanded. Don’t you realize what a dangerous thing that is?”
Caesar didn’t answer. He set his lip stubbornly. He sat in his chair and folded his arms.
Lisa tried to reason with him, “Caesar, haven’t you seen how Aldo is training his troops? It’s terrifying! And it means danger to us all! Don’t you see? If you give the gorillas the means to make war, they’re going to use those means. You’ve let Aldo train them into a terrible war machine. He won’t be happy until he tests that machine and sees if it works. What if the people in the city don’t attack us? What then? Aldo will still want to use his war machine—and he will! He’ll use it against you. He’ll use it against all of us!”