Free Battle For The Planet Of The Apes by David Gerrold Page B

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