Urko picked up a box of bullets and jammed them into his pocket.
He was fuming as he growled, "I'll show that sniveling weakling Zaius a thing or two! A mere orangutan nothing!---doubting my ability! The nerve of him!"
Captain Sovak entered the general's headquarters and saluted. "The motorized units are ready to move out, sir."
Urko's grin was instant and wide. "Excellent! Let's go! On the double!"
Sovak exited and Urko took another quick look around his room in the Ape City Ape Army Headquarters.
"No, I have everything I need," he muttered to himself. Everything but victory," he thought. And that is next!
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The deck shivered beneath their feet as the Marintha lifted free of the ground, rose a dozen feet into the air, then settled again with a low, controlled thrum.
“Just a short hop,” Dan reported from the copilot’s seat, his hands still firm on the yoke. “Checking the lift thrusters.”
Brent gripped the back of Steve’s chair, watching in amazement as the landing struts flexed and the ship touched down smoothly once more. “Up and down like nothing,” he muttered. “After all these years, she actually flies again.”
Steve adjusted the controls and powered the ship aloft for a second time, this time holding her steady in the air before easing her back down with precision. “Every test brings her closer,” he said with quiet satisfaction.
Brent shook his head in disbelief, eyes bright. “I’ve been alone with this ship for so long, I almost stopped believing she’d ever leave the ground. And now…” He trailed off, overwhelmed by the reality that the Marintha was alive and moving under its own power.
The Marintha rose again, steadier this time, before settling back with a gentle thud. Brent clutched the rail, still shaking his head.
“It’s hard to take in,” he admitted, staring at the readouts as if they might vanish. “But there’s no denying it anymore—the ship is moving.”
Steve gave him a quick glance while adjusting the yoke. “Facts are facts. She’s alive again, Brent. We don’t have to wonder about it—we’re flying her.”
Dan leaned over, nodding toward the glowing panels that had stayed dead for so long. “And every test proves it. Little by little, she’s coming back to life.”
Brent looked from one pilot to the other, then out the forward ports where the world tilted and leveled again with the ship’s descent. He didn’t argue—he simply let the reality sink in.
The Marintha shuddered under them as Steve eased her off the ground, the engines humming with restrained power. Slowly, steadily, the craft lifted—ten feet, twenty, fifty—until the valley floor was a shrinking patchwork below. The passengers gripped their restraints, and even the Nova fell silent as the ground seemed to slide away. “That’s it,” Steve said tensely. “Nice and easy—hold her steady.”
Dan kept his eyes on the gauges, nodding. “Systems are holding. No wild surges, no power bleed.” He allowed himself a thin grin. “She can do it, Steve. She can really fly.” The ship hovered a moment in the afternoon sun, stable against the pull of gravity, before Steve tilted her gently forward and then back again.
“Now the real test,” Steve muttered. He feathered the controls and brought the Marintha down. The landing struts kissed the earth with a solid thump, dust pluming around them. A cheer went up in the cabin, a release of nervous energy—relief, laughter, disbelief. “One up, one down,” Brent said with a shaky grin. “And she’s still in one piece. That’s fortunate—because the next time, we’ll be going higher.”230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPoKczUWzBp
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Steve leveled the Marintha at a thousand feet, the engines thrumming clean and true as the craft arced around the wide bowl of the valley. From above, the desert dunes looked impossibly small—just a scatter of half-built walls and the faint thread of the stream. “Well, at least we know what lies behind us,” Dan said, leaning over for a better view. “But we still haven’t seen what’s to the north.”
Brent came forward from the aft compartment, grinning despite the tension. “How’s she handling?” he called.
Steve tapped the panel lightly. “Fine. She’s answering every move. The controls are smooth as silk.” Behind them, the humanoids pressed against the viewing ports, murmuring in awe as the valley unrolled below, their new home spread out like a map.
Then, as the Marintha crested the northern rim and banked wide, Brent’s expression darkened. His finger stabbed toward the far plain. “Look—there!” Marching across the open country was a dark, crawling mass—an Ape Army column, long lines of helmets and weapons glinting in the sun. The cabin went suddenly still; the triumph of flight chilled into silence.
“Keep her steady,” Brent said quickly, his eyes locked on the dark lines moving far beneath them. “If Urko's there, we don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.”
Dan leaned forward over Steve’s shoulder, glancing at the altimeter. “We could take her down for the parabolic curve test, but not with that lot marching under us. Better to stay high, out of sight.”
Steve nodded grimly. “Agreed. We’ve got time to run the low-altitude drills later. Right now, the priority is to make sure the Marintha isn’t spotted as a target.” He adjusted the controls, easing the craft into a higher climb.
“Nevertheless, we need those curve factors logged,” Dan pressed, though his voice was quieter now. “We can’t know how she’ll handle under full combat maneuvering until we try it.”
Brent shook his head firmly. “We’ll get to it. But if the apes see us before we’re ready, there may not be a ‘later’ at all.”
The three men exchanged a glance, the weight of command and survival pressing on all of them. Below, the army marched on, oblivious—for now. Above, the Marintha soared higher, hidden in the burnished clouds.230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡERmiQL8WSC
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Decius was crammed into the back of a troop-carrier truck, along with the rest of his squad. Sergeant Krax rode in the cab with the driver, sheltered from the sun and dust. Kor was on one side of Decius and Graxus had wedged his bulk in on the other. Neither of them seemed to care, or even be aware, that Decius was squeezed between them. Elbows had never really seemed so much like weapons to Decius before.
When they hit a bump and both of the bigger apes lurched toward Decius in the middle, he groaned.
"What's wrong, Decius?" Graxus grinned. "Things too tough for you? Maybe you oughta ask for a transfer to the ballet squad!"
Graxus's humor brought dusty grins from several of the gorillas, but Decius stayed quiet. I'll suffer in silence, he told himself. They'll not get me to react.
The truck jostled them again and Graxus laughed raucously. "Bumpy enough for ya?" the big gorilla asked.
"You cliche-ridden imbecile!" Decius mumbled.
"What was that, Decius?" Krax asked, a touch of menace in his voice. "You say something to me, Decius?"
"I said, Krax, that if you read a book you might learn to insult people even better. Of course, first you'd have to learn to read...."
"Aw, what do I want with reading, anyway?" The dusty gorilla wiped his face with a sweaty hand. "I know the numbers of money, I know the serial number of my rifle h ere, and my own number. Whadda I want to learn to read for? That'd only take up time I need for the opposite sex!"
"How much further do we have to go?" Decius asked.
"How the hell would I know, Decius? I ain't no general like you!" Krax's humor made him and Graxus roar.
Decius closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he wasn't very successful.230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlJYBfugPmA
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Brent tightened his grip on the armrest as the Marintha sank through the last layer of cloud. “She’s steady,” he murmured, almost in disbelief at how smooth the descent was.
Dan bent over the console, eyes flicking across the gauges. “All systems in the green. Landing jets compensating perfectly. She’s handling like a dream.” A rare grin crossed his face.
Steve leaned forward, gaze locked on the viewport as the valley floor rose to meet them. “Nice and easy, Dan,” he said quietly, his voice calm but intent.
Nova whimpered and covered her ears at the low thunder of the retro-burn, shrinking against Brent’s side. Brent touched her shoulder gently, whispering reassurance. Beside them, Valerie exchanged a wide-eyed look with Betty, both gripping the armrests, while Barry blurted, half-laughing, half-afraid: “We’re really going to make it back down!”
The landing struts touched the ground with only the faintest jar. For a heartbeat, no one spoke—just the quiet whir of engines winding down.
Then it burst out of them: laughter, cheers, even a few tears of disbelief. They had lifted off, soared, and landed again—successfully. The Marintha had proven herself.
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A scout jeep came up the side of a ridge at the south end of the savannah and braked. Below was the line of trucks, tanks, and jeeps commanded by General Urko.
The scout stood up in the jeep's seat and waved. Below, a command jeep pulled out of line as the column halted. The general's vehicle scrambled up the sandy slope and came to a halt next to the scout.
"Problem, Lieutenant Orr?" the general demanded.
Orr saluted. "We've scouted both sides of the river all the way up to these ridges, sir. No sign of the fugitives' leaving. Only Dead Ape's Canyon lies beyond, and to the east and west of the canyon and ridges is only the Southern Desert!"
Urko nodded. "I understand. We can't take the troops into that narrow canyon. It was tough enough circling that cursed swamp! Well, lieutenant, we'll go around the ridges to the west."
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Steve slumped back in the pilot’s seat after shutting down the engines, the hum of the Marintha fading into silence. Valerie slipped up beside him with a canteen of water, and he drank deeply, his hands still trembling from the adrenaline of the test.
Dan and Brent came forward from the rear compartment, both grinning after the successful up-and-down run. Brent slapped a sheaf of scribbled notes onto the console. “She handled the lift beautifully. Next on the docket’s hover time, quick land-and-lifts, and power loss recovery. We’ve got a checklist a mile long.”
Steve sat quietly for a moment, then said what they were all thinking. “Doesn’t matter how many tests we run if we just stay here. Every flight has to bring us closer to one goal—getting out of the land of the apes.”
Betty’s face was pale but steady as she nodded. “He’s right. The longer we stay, the more chances the gorillas have to catch wind of us. And if they ever find this ship…” She trailed off, her eyes flicking nervously to Nova, who clutched Brent’s arm.
Steve pushed himself upright, resolve in his voice. “Then it’s settled. We put her through the trials as fast as we can. Fuel runs, handling tests, stress checks—just enough to prove she’s ready. Once we’re satisfied, we take off. No hesitation. No second chances.”
Dan leaned forward eagerly from his seat, eyes wide. “Next test should be hover endurance,” he said, almost bouncing with excitement. “We can see how long she’ll hold steady without drifting.”
Steve nodded, already marking it on the pad strapped to his knee. “Good call, Dan. After that, we’ll push into high -altitude climbs and curves—stress the frame and check stability. If she can ride those arcs, she’ll handle atmospheric re-entry.”
Dan, wiping sweat from his brow, leaned in. “We’ll need to log fuel burn, too. I can run diagnostics during the hover phase, but the numbers only matter if we’re thinking about real travel—long distance, not just local hops.”
Brent, quieter than the rest, spoke with a tight edge. “And that’s exactly the point. These aren’t just exercises anymore. Every run we make has to be aimed at one thing—getting us out of the Land of the Apes. The longer we sit here, the greater the risk the gorillas find us.”
Valerie set down a tray of food near Steve and tried to keep her voice steady. “Then we all share the load. Maintenance checks, observation, even keeping watch while she’s grounded. Woman-power and child-power, too—we’re all in this.”
Nova shifted nervously in her seat, her hand clinging to Barry’s. She had no words, but her wide, fearful eyes followed every sound outside the hull. Barry gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
Steve looked around the cramped cabin, taking in each face—their exhaustion, their fear, and their stubborn determination. “All right, then. We push the Marintha hard, but fast. Hovers, climbs, curves, power cuts. If she’s ready, we don’t wait—we fly. And this time, it won’t be to land again in the valley. Next time we take her up, it’s to leave.”230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdBDkTw0Gcb
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"It's Lieutenant Orr, sir," Captain Sovak told the general, handing him the radio mike and headset.
Urko took the headset and pressed one of the cups to his ear, tipping his leather helmet slightly.
"What is it, Orr?" he barked. "You find them yet?"
Orr's voice was faint, but clear enough. "Our advance scouts have picked up the suspects' trail, sir."
"Good!" Urko snapped. "Where are they?"
"They seem to have been moving far into the Southern Desert....."
"Any idea why?"
"We don't know, sir. The tracks are faint. There was a sandstorm, sir, and...."
"Why don't you know? Why can't I get a straight answer from anybody? Is there a conspiracy against me?!"
"No, sir....." Orr said faintly, and meekly.
"You have no idea at all?" Urko shouted.
"Sir, we have their tracks now, and will do our best to catch sight of them."
"Well, find them!" Urko commanded angrily. He threw the headset and microphone back to Sovak. "Speed up the convoy!" he shouted.230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡARntmKOWXy
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The Marintha rose straight up, engines humming with a smooth, thrumming pulse that filled the cabin. Outside, the valley walls fell away, shadows lengthening under the artificial glow of her headlights, which blazed forward like great spears of light against the dusk.
“Steady as she goes,” Steve said tightly, hands guiding the controls. The ship held its altitude at a thousand feet, though the valley winds pressed against her hull with invisible fingers.
Dan leaned toward the diagnostic panel, watching as green lights winked into amber. “Hover burn’s holding—fuel consumption higher than expected, but manageable. Onboard computer’s compensating for drift.” He tapped the readout with a frown. “She’s fighting the crosswinds better than I hoped.”
Suddenly, a sharp crack split the air inside the cabin, followed by a flicker of the lights. Warning signals flared across the board.
For one sickening instant, the Marintha dipped, the nose yawing left as if the ground meant to drag her back down. Nova gasped, clutching at Brent’s arm, while Barry shouted in fright. Red warning lights flared across the console.
Valerie’s face went pale. “Steve—what’s happening?”
Steve wrestled the yoke, teeth clenched. “Pulse-cycle’s dropping out. We lose that, and we fall.”
“Step aside!” Fitzhugh barked, surprising everyone. He was already ripping open the side panel, hands plunging into the nest of wires. “The stabilizer relay’s fused. Give me sixty seconds—no more.”
Barry clung to Brent as the ship bucked again, dust filtering from overhead seams. “We’re falling, aren’t we?” the boy gasped.
Barry clung to Brent as the ship bucked again, dust filtering from overhead seams. “We’re falling, aren’t we?” the boy gasped.
“Not if Fitz does his part,” Brent answered tightly, though he kept one arm locked around the boy, the other steadying Nova as she whimpered in fear.
Inside the access hatch, Fitzhugh’s hands darted like a pickpocket’s, twisting wires, yanking scorched relays free. “All right, keep her steady! I’m laying down a patch—gravel over mud, if you like metaphors—something rough but it’ll hold!”
Steve gritted his teeth, fighting the controls. “Just make it smooth enough for us to land in one piece.”
Valerie knelt beside Fitzhugh, handing him tools without his asking. “Here—beds to make later, but right now you need a screwdriver.” Her eyes flicked to the gauges. “The output’s still dropping!”
“I see it!” Fitzhugh snapped, sweat streaking his soot-stained face. “That’s why I’m laying down another layer—packing it tighter. A second bypass, dirt over gravel. We’ll have a smoother surface in a moment.” He stripped a wire with his teeth and spliced it barehanded, ignoring the sparks.
Dan hovered behind him, frowning. “It’s crude work, Fitz. It won’t last.”
“Neither did the cavemen’s tools,” Fitz shot back, “but somehow, they still painted on the walls. Art later—survival now!” He jammed the relay back into place.
The ship lurched violently, sending Nova sprawling. Brent caught her before she hit the deck.
Fitzhugh made one last twist, then slammed the panel shut. “All right—try it now! Pulse should be steady enough for a hover burn!”
Steve checked the gauges, his breath caught—then slowly let it out. “She’s holding. By heaven, she’s holding.”
“Good,” Fitzhugh muttered, slumping back against the bulkhead. “Now somebody check the guards on the ground, because we’re about to drop back into their line of sight.”
And with that, the Marintha steadied herself, glowing like a firefly above the valley—the Ape Army convoy still snaking below.
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Urko's command jeep slid to a dusty stop next to Orr's scout car. "Which way?" the gorilla general demanded of his chief scout.
"That way, sir!"
Urko stood and waved to the trucks and tanks and jeeps behind; then his own vehicle started through the mountain pass. All they could see ahead, now, was mountains and more mountains. Some of the mountaintops east of them were ice-covered; one of them might be famed Mount Galaneth, on which sat the Forbidden City and the fearsome statue of Khan'Gorr, god of the Pan-Kelari. Even thinking of that made every gorilla shudder.
"Hurry!" Urko shouted to his officers through his walkie-talkie. "The sooner we find them, the sooner I can cut their throats!"230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJYpmeSo2Fz
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The ship still trembled faintly under Steve’s grip, the smell of scorched circuitry lingering in the cabin. Below them, the torchlit spines of the Ape Army column cut through the dust like a living serpent, every vehicle a reminder that time was running out.
“We could try another circuit,” Dan argued. “We need to know if the parabolic factor holds, if the repairs last under stress—”
“No!” Steve barked, his voice ringing against the steel walls. He lifted a hand, silencing them. “Every second we stay aloft, we risk being spotted. A test circuit means giving those apes a target.”
Fitzhugh shook his head, still wiping sweat from his brow." Steve, the patch I graciously bestowed upon her is scarcely fit for the slightest strain. One would scarcely expect the pulse to persist once we see her out of the desert."
“We’ll find out in the air,” Steve shot back. “But one thing’s certain: if we linger here, it won’t be the sky that kills us—it’ll be those gorillas on the ground.”
Valerie’s eyes darted from Steve to the others, searching for a protest that never came. Nova clung to Brent, wide-eyed, while Barry pressed his face into Brent’s chest to hide from the sight of the army convoy below.
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“General Urko!” Captain Sovak’s voice was urgent as he yanked the headset away from his ear. “There’s movement over the desert… something… in the sky!”
Urko’s jaw tightened, his tusks catching the fading sunlight as he wheeled his horse about. “In the sky?” he snapped. “What are you babbling about, Sovak? Nothing flies except birds!”
Sovak pointed with a gauntleted hand. Through the veil of dust rising from their own column, a strange metallic shape shimmered—hovering, defiant, and utterly alien to ape eyes. The captain swallowed hard. “It’s not a bird, sir. It’s—something else. I’ve never seen its like.”
Urko rose in his stirrups, fury blazing in his dark eyes as he fixed on the object glimmering above the desert. “Then it is a threat,” he roared. “Sound the alarm! I don’t care what it is—if it dares to watch us from the skies, it dies!”230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbOaZT3iYnj
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The onboard camera flickered, its lens shaking as the craft bucked in midair. Across the forward screen, a terrifying sight rolled into view—a dark, endless wall of dust and armor: the gorilla convoy, spreading like a living tide across the desert floor.
“Dear God…” Steve muttered, white-knuckled at the controls. “That’s the entire army down there!”
Valerie pressed against the bulkhead, her voice rising. “We can’t leave yet—we haven’t even tested half the systems! If something goes wrong in orbit—”
“Something’s already going wrong!” Brent snapped, his eyes fixed on the growing blur of muzzle flashes below. Red tracer rounds streaked wildly into the sky, most far off course, but closer with each volley. “Stay high, Steve! Don’t let them bracket us!”
In the engine compartment, Fitzhugh crouched over a sparking conduit, sleeves rolled up, hands moving frantically. “Barry—hold that panel steady!” he barked. The boy struggled with the weight, his face damp with sweat, while sparks spit around his small fingers.
“We’re not ready!” Valerie cried again, clutching Nova to her side. The mute girl whimpered, eyes wide at the chaos, as the Marintha jolted from another near hit.
Fitzhugh slammed a coupler back into place, swearing under his breath. “Ready or not—we’ve got gorillas shooting at us and half a power cycle blown. We don’t have the luxury of tests anymore!”
The onboard camera flickered, its lens shaking as the craft bucked in midair. Across the forward screen, a terrifying sight rolled into view—a dark, endless wall of dust and armor: the gorilla convoy, spreading like a living tide across the desert floor.
“Dear God…” Steve muttered, white-knuckled at the controls. “That’s the entire army down there!”
Valerie pressed against the bulkhead, her voice rising. “We can’t leave yet—we haven’t even tested half the systems! If something goes wrong in orbit—”
“Something’s already going wrong!” Brent snapped, his eyes fixed on the growing blur of muzzle flashes below. Red tracer rounds streaked wildly into the sky, most far off course, but closer with each volley. “Stay high, Steve! Don’t let them bracket us!”
In the engine compartment, Fitzhugh crouched over a sparking conduit, sleeves rolled up, hands moving frantically. “Barry—hold that panel steady!” he barked. The boy struggled with the weight, his face damp with sweat, while sparks spit around his small fingers.
“We’re not ready!” Valerie cried again, clutching Nova to her side. The mute girl whimpered, eyes wide at the chaos, as the Marintha jolted from another near hit.
Fitzhugh slammed a coupler back into place, swearing under his breath. “Ready or not—we’ve got gorillas shooting at us and half a power cycle blown. We don’t have the luxury of tests anymore!”
Barry’s arms shook as he braced the panel, his small shoulders straining. “It’s too heavy—I can’t—”
“You can and you will!” Fitzhugh snarled, sweat dripping from his nose as he jammed the new coil into its housing. The ship jolted again and both were nearly pitched across the compartment. Sparks rained down.
“Get that coupling steady—NOW!”
Barry grit his teeth, locking it in place with a final shove. Fitzhugh slammed the housing shut and threw the breaker. For a moment, nothing happened—then the pulse cycle indicator glowed weakly back to life, its hum uneven but alive.
In the cockpit, Steve shouted over the alarms: “We’ve got one shot at this. Do we take it?”
Valerie leaned forward, eyes wide. “If we climb now without finishing the diagnostics, and anything blows—we all die in orbit!”
“And if we don’t climb,” Brent shot back, pointing at the screens, “the gorillas down there will tear us apart before we finish another test run. You choose.”
The Marintha rattled violently, a shell bursting just beneath her. Dust streamed from overhead seams, and Nova screamed wordlessly, clutching Valerie.
Then Fitzhugh’s voice crackled over the intercom, breathless but triumphant: “Engines are patched! Won’t hold forever, but she’ll fly!”
Steve’s knuckles went white against the throttle. “All right—hold on, everyone. We’re leaving… now.”230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5dETtUtsXd
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Engines rumbled and exhaust coughed as Urko’s convoy screeched to a halt across the desert floor. Armored cars swung broadside, turrets rising; flatbeds with mounted cannons clanked as crews leapt down to unlimber gear. The first bursts of automatic fire ripped skyward, brass casings tumbling onto the hot sand.
But the Marintha hovered above them, unscathed. The bullets sparked or ricocheted, some rounds simply vanishing into the craft’s shimmering wake as though absorbed. The ship shifted effortlessly, almost taunting the apes as they poured fire into the sky.
Sovak, climbing out of a command jeep, shouted over the din. “General! Our guns can’t track it—the thing dodges like no machine I’ve ever seen!”
Urko climbed up onto the glacis of a tank, his boots ringing against the armor as he surveyed the desert floor. Beyond the rolling dust, the alien craft hovered—gleaming, untouchable, infuriating. “No relic,” he growled. “This… thing… is new. And it mocks us.” He turned, tusks flashing. “Captain Sovak—bring up the heavies. Order the barrage.”
“Artillery crews forward!” Sovak barked, waving his arm.
The sergeants bellowed it down the line: “Tanks! Howitzers! Bazooka teams—front!”
With a grinding roar, the tanks angled their turrets skyward, breech blocks clanging shut. Bazooka teams shouldered their launchers, squinting into the sun. The first shells thundered out, trails of smoke streaking upward as high-explosive rounds arced toward the Marintha.
The sky lit up with blossoms of fire and smoke around the ship. Each detonation rocked the valley floor, echoing off the cliffs. Mortar shells rained in, bazooka rockets screamed upward, and the thunder of tank cannons rolled like an earthquake.
“Fire!” Urko roared again, standing tall in his command half-track. His tusks gleamed, and his voice carried over the chaos like a challenge to the heavens themselves.
Inside the Marintha, the world shook. Impacts hammered its hull—booming against the plating, rattling every seam. Warning lights flared across the control panels. Dust cascaded from the overhead struts as the ship lurched under the strain.
And yet… it held.
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“Impact!” Valerie cried, clutching the bulkhead as the Marintha rocked savagely. Warning klaxons screamed through the cabin, red lights strobing across the compartment.
Barry stumbled, catching himself against Brent’s arm. “She’s breaking apart!” the boy shouted, eyes wide with terror.
“Not yet, she isn’t!” Steve barked, wrestling with the controls. The ship bucked again as another tank round detonated close beneath her, rattling every seam. He held fast, knuckles white, forcing the Marintha level against the storm.
Fitzhugh tore open a panel near the engine bay, sparks showering across his sleeves. “Circuit cluster’s fried!” he shouted. “Barry—hand me that spanner, quickly!”
Barry fumbled in the tool kit, shoving the spanner into Fitzhugh’s hand as another blast rocked them. The man dove into the snarled wiring, muttering, “Hold together, you old girl… don’t you quit now.”
A warning light shrieked on the forward console, and Valerie cried out again. “Steve—the stabilizers are redlining!”
“Then we ride the edge!” Steve snapped back. He jammed the throttles forward, his eyes locked on the flickering readouts. “Hold her steady, girl. Hold steady—just a little longer.”
The deck shuddered, but this time it was not collapse—it was resistance. She was holding. For every shell that burst against her flanks, for every rocket that streaked past in fire and thunder, the ship groaned but refused to fall.
“Repairs holding!” Fitzhugh shouted, sweat streaking his face. “Power rerouted to the secondary loop!”
Steve gritted his teeth, forcing the yoke back into line. Slowly, with painful steadiness, the Marintha climbed a little higher above the storm of fire.230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1KPo3EczKu
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More howitzer shells shrieked skyward, leaving trails of smoke that blossomed into fiery bursts against the dimming sky. Each detonation shuddered the air, shaking the ground under the gorillas’ boots. Urko leaned forward, tusks gleaming, waiting for the alien craft to fall in ruin.
But the Marintha did not fall. The shells burst wide, their flames licking harmlessly at empty air. Others struck nearer, pounding her with shockwaves—but the ship only climbed higher, her hull glowing, trembling, yet unbroken.
“Load again!” Urko roared. “Fire! Fire until she crashes!”
The howitzers boomed again. Dust rained down from the cliffs, echo rolling like thunder. Yet above, the ship surged upward through smoke and cloud, lights flaring like angry stars.
One crew faltered, their captain lowering his hand. Another stopped entirely, staring helplessly as their shells fell farther and farther short. Piece by piece, the battery fell silent.
“Why do you stop?” Urko bellowed, whirling on his gunners. “Keep firing, curse you! Bring it down!”
But the soldiers only stood in their smoke-stained masks, weapons cooling, eyes following the craft into the stratosphere. Their silence was the worst mutiny Urko had ever known.
“Why?” he snarled.
Captain Sovak stepped forward at last, his voice low but firm. “Because… we cannot reach it, sir. The craft is beyond our range. Every round we fire now is wasted.”
Urko stared at him, tusks trembling, rage boiling in his throat. “Wasted? You dare tell me we are powerless?”
Sovak did not flinch. “Yes, sir. Powerless. Our weapons are built for war on Earth. That… thing is leaving Earth behind.”
The words struck Urko harder than any enemy’s blow. He looked skyward once more, at the shrinking point of light climbing toward freedom. His fists tightened, his whole body quaking with fury—but no order came.
For the first time in his career, Urko could only watch in silence, as his soldiers stood still around him, their weapons useless in their hands.
The officer stood rigid under Urko’s glare, voice trembling but steady. “General… we brought everything we could carry. The rifles, the grenades, the howitzers, even the bazookas. We fought with what we had. It wasn’t enough.”
For a moment, silence hung over the field. The wind tugged at the neck flaps of Urko’s leather helmet, the gunsmoke drifting thin across the meadow, the last echoes of failed artillery fire still ringing in the hills. The gorillas shifted uneasily, their armor scratched and blackened from the fight.
Urko’s tusks gleamed as he bared them, nostrils flaring with hot breath. “Not enough? Not enough?” His voice cracked into a shrill bark. “You call that an excuse? You think the Council of Elders will care that we lacked the proper tools? That we ‘did our best’?”
He spat into the dirt. “The Council does not reward effort. The Council demands victory!”
His troops hung their heads. None dared meet his eyes. They had fought with determination, that was true—charging ladders into gas, braving boiling water, throwing their strength against stone and shutter. Yet the enemy had not broken. And now… the ship was climbing, higher and higher, beyond their reach.
Urko’s pacing grew frantic, boots chewing up the earth. In his mind, the image of Ape City’s marble council chamber burned like fire. Zaius’s cold eyes, the Elders murmuring. Urko has failed. Urko, the mighty general, humiliated by beasts. He felt the weight of their judgment before he ever heard the words.
“Failure is death,” Urko whispered, almost to himself, then louder: “And I do not fail!”
He wheeled on his men, voice rising to a roar. “Mark me well! This is not defeat—it is treachery, witchcraft, some alien power! And I will see it crushed, if I must bring every gun in Ape City to bear! Do you hear me?”
His soldiers nodded nervously, though none truly believed they could stop what had risen into the sky. But Urko’s rage left them no room to speak.
“Form ranks!” he snapped, his tone clipped now, almost brittle. “We return to Ape City. There, I will demand new orders. More men. More weapons. This is not over!”
“But sir, the fugitives—” one lieutenant ventured, pointing skyward where the glowing vessel was climbing, higher and higher, its hull glinting like a star.
Urko silenced him with a snarl, fists clenched. “The army will be resupplied with every weapon apekind possesses—tanks, howitzers, even the rockets from the arsenal if I must drag them out myself!” His voice was a low, feral growl. “That ship will fall. I will rid this land of Blue-Eyes and every treacherous humanoid who aids them. The Council will see that I am victorious!”
His officers exchanged glances, each caught between awe and unease. The pueblo below lay silent, untouched now, its shuttered windows staring back at them like blank eyes. Above, the alien craft’s engines thundered as it tore free of their grasp. Captain Sovak followed it with his field glasses, his jaw tight. What’s happening to these humanoids? he thought. What kind of power is this?
“Better sound retreat,” a younger lieutenant muttered at Sovak’s side.
“Not retreat,” Sovak said carefully. “The general does not use that word. We’re… regrouping. Pulling back for reinforcements and resupply.” He gave a small signal to a waiting sergeant.
The veteran’s stony expression didn’t change, but Sovak read the truth in his silence. He lowered his voice, almost whispering. “I know, sergeant. There’s nothing else we can do. The general… he’s…” Sovak stopped himself, unwilling to finish the thought aloud: he’s unraveling.
The sergeant saluted sharply, turned, and raised his bugle. The harsh, metallic notes carried across the valley: “Withdraw! Regroup at the cliffs! Form up, double-time! Move, you apes, move!”
Engines coughed to life. Armored cars and troop carriers wheeled about in a clatter of treads and tires. Dejected soldiers climbed aboard, some throwing sullen looks back at the pueblo, others glaring skyward as the ship dwindled to a speck against the stars.
Urko mounted his command vehicle last, face locked in a mask of fury. He did not look at his men, nor at Sovak, nor even at the silent pueblo. His eyes never left the heavens, where his enemy was slipping forever from reach.
The convoy rumbled back toward Ape City, a dark, motorized serpent retreating into the night. Sovak brought up the rear, the glow of the ship still visible overhead. The road ahead seemed endless, harder than the campaign itself. Yes, he thought grimly, this journey back will be longer than the fight. And at its end waits the Council of Elders… and their judgment on us all.230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxB2emzTRmq
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Steve’s head snapped up from the pilot’s seat, sweat dripping down his temples as the Marintha shuddered under his grip. Warning lights still winked angrily across the control panel, but the stars beyond the viewport were shifting—expanding—proof they were breaking through the last layers of atmosphere.
“Hold her steady, Steve!” Valerie cried out, bracing herself against the bulkhead as another vibration rattled through the hull.
In the cramped engineering bay, Barry’s face popped up through the maintenance hatch, soot streaking his cheeks. “We patched it, Fitz! The power’s holding!” He clambered fully into the compartment, gulping air, exhilarated. Fitzhugh handed him a battered canteen.
Fitzhugh sank down against the bulkhead, exhausted, still clutching a coil of scorched wire. “You mean we actually did it? Well, hooray for us!” 230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2tANJQe9iV
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Steve tightened his hands on the yoke, eyes locked on the view ahead. The stars were sharp now, clean and steady beyond the trembling curve of the horizon. He drew in a deep breath, voice low but steady. “We’re free of the atmosphere. We’ve broken through.”
A hush filled the Marintha’s passenger area—alarms still blinking, panels still sparking—but in that moment, every heart aboard surged with hope.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sounds were the hum of straining engines and the faint tick of cooling metal. Then Steve exhaled a long, shaky breath, shoulders sinking back into the pilot’s seat.
“We made it,” he whispered. “We’re clear.”
The words seemed to ripple through the cabin. Valerie pressed a hand to her mouth, then let out a small, incredulous laugh that grew louder, bubbling over. Fitzhugh, wiping sweat and grime from his brow, leaned back against the bulkhead and laughed too, half-delirious with relief. The Marintha thrummed around them, panels flickering, stabilizers humming as the ship rode the thin line between control and chaos. Nova clapped her hands together, grinning at the others as if she already understood—they were alive, and free. Out the viewport, the stars stretched vast and endless before them. For the first time, hope didn’t seem like a dream. It felt real.
Then Barry’s voice suddenly cut through the joy. Quiet. Pained. “Chipper should’ve been here. He never left me behind before. Why didn’t he make it?”
The laughter died. Fitzhugh looked away. Valerie bit her lip. Barry’s eyes searched theirs, waiting for an answer—hope trembling on his face.
It was Mark who finally spoke. His tone was low, almost reluctant. “Barry… Chipper didn’t stay behind by choice. He changed. A mutation. It turned him into something he wasn’t anymore. A creature that could’ve hurt us. We had to stop him.”
Barry shook his head, denial flashing in his eyes. “No. Not Chipper—he wouldn’t. He—he—!”
Mark gripped the boy’s shoulders firmly, his voice steady but kind. “Listen to me. That wasn’t your dog anymore. Not really. What mattered—the real Chipper—was already gone. Remember him the way he was. The friend who followed you everywhere, who protected us all. That’s the Chipper you keep with you.”
Barry’s eyes filled with tears. He dropped his gaze, shoulders trembling. Valerie slipped her hand into his, Nova crouched beside him, curious and tender, and even Fitzhugh mumbled awkwardly, “He was a fine dog, Barry. A fine dog.”
Steve’s voice cut through the moment, brisk and urgent from the pilot’s chair.230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9J07Nc48eN
“Hold on, everybody—we’re not out of this yet. We’re coming up on the parabolic curve. If the ship holds together, we slingshot. If not…” He didn’t finish. His hands tightened on the controls.
A silence fell over the cabin, broken only by the low thrum of the engines. For a moment, no one knew what to say.
The viewport shimmered with faint distortions. At first it looked like heat rising from asphalt, but then the stars themselves seemed to bend and ripple, arcing into long, curved trails.
Brent straightened, excitement sharpening his voice. “The parabolic arc! Don’t you see? Every time a suborbital transport crosses one, it triggers a shift in space-time. He jeered at the glowing readouts. “And we’re heading right into another one now!”
Barry swallowed hard, suddenly pale. “You mean—we’re going back? To Earth? To our time?”
Dan glanced over his shoulder at him, eyes softening. “Maybe, Barry. Maybe."
Barry’s eyes brimmed, and he nodded mutely. Valerie touched his hand. The silence stretched again—but this time, it was the silence of a family bracing for what came next.
Steve’s voice cut through it. Firm. Commanding. “Strap in. We’re at the curve. If Brent’s right, we’re about to hit the warp again.”
The hum of the engines rose to a roar. Warning lights flared across the console. The ship lurched, rattling hard as the stars ahead stretched, twisted—then vanished into a swirling emerald cloud that seemed to open like a cosmic whirlpool.
“Hold tight!” Steve barked, forcing the yoke forward. “This is it!”
On the main console, the glowing numerals of the ship’s chronometer flickered once—then began to reel backward.
7500 A.D. … 7420 … 7300 … each century unwinding in a relentless cascade.
The hands of the auxiliary clock spun counter to their course, faster and faster, as though time itself had been reversed. Outside the viewport, the stars bent into long green arcs, folding inward toward a dark, beckoning vortex.
The ship pressed forward into it, caught in the pull of eternity.230Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmIOpsY2kND
and then Add to home screen.