Balook

  Piers Anthony

  Balook

  Illustrations by Patrick Woodroffe

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: BREAKOUT

  Chapter 2: PURSUIT

  Chapter 3: THERIA

  Chapter 4: FREAKS

  Chapter 5: TREK

  Chapter 6: CHASE

  Chapter 7: TROUBLE

  Chapter 8: TRIAL

  Chapter 9: MIOCENE

  Chapter 10: POWER

  Author's Note

  BREAKOUT

  1

  THOR NEMMEN CLIMBED the steps of the high stile and looked over the fence. The top strand was electrified, and was six meters above the ground—almost twenty feet in the old measure. That had once been a daunting height.

  Thor always paused at this point, aware of his vulnerability. Today there was a moderate wind that tugged at his clothing, as if to nudge him off his perch. Nearby stood the pretty trees of the estate: small poplar, with the leaves shimmering; taller birch, with the white bark that looked as if it had been carelessly painted in horizontal swipes; and still taller pine, the seeming monarch of this forest. The whole region was growing up, now that all trees of all types were protected species, and it was good.

  But the trees beyond the fence were in poorer state than those on the side from which he had come. They were relatively lean, their lower branches pruned well back. New growth was showing on some, but it would be long before their foliage was normal. Only above the level of about eight meters was it full.

  "Balook!" he called. No point in climbing down inside, when he could ride instead.

  There was no response. Concerned, Thor peered across the forest pasture. He hoped his huge friend wasn't sick. Ordinarily Balook came galloping eagerly, nose lifted, tail trailing, shaking the ground with his solid hooves. But this morning the landscape was vacant from pond to pines.

  Quickly Thor swung himself over the top and trotted down the inner ramp. He jumped the last meter to the ground and ran along the fence toward the distant stable. "Balook!" he called again.

  Half a kilometer along, he came across disaster. A tremendous hole had been ripped in the fence, as though a juggernaut had smashed through, two meters above the ground. The topmost cable was all that remained of the upper two-thirds of the barrier.

  Thor stopped and stared, aghast at the damage. He had not believed that anything short of a runaway construction tractor could break that fence. That would have left treadmarks on the ground and taken out the bottom section, not the top. Anything except—

  Then the significance of the break came to him. Suddenly he was running at top speed, shouting. "Balook! Balook's broken out!"

  Breathless, he rushed up to the ranch house and pounded on the door. "Skip! Skip! Balook's gone!"

  The guest-screen in the door lighted and the burly foreman's face appeared. "Shut up and make sense a minute!" the face snapped, seeming gruffer than it was.

  "Skip, Balook broke out!" Thor cried.

  The door sprang open, propelled by an imperative foot. The foreman ran his thumbnail along the crease of his plastic shirt, sealing it shut. Obviously he had been interrupted while getting dressed; his feet were bare, his thinning red hair tousled. "Don't talk nonsense, lad! That fence is anchored by twenty-thousand-pound cable."

  Quickly Thor translated the man's old-fashioned measurement into familiar terms: twenty thousand pounds would be about nine thousand kilograms, or nine metric tons. "How much does Balook weigh, now?"

  "Nine tons," Skip said, spraying on temporary slippers. Then, as he waited a few seconds for the porous plastic to set, he did a doubletake. "By jingo, lad, you're right! Balook could break out, if he had a mind to! I keep thinking of him as the little tyke he was when we started." Skip's tons were only nine tenths as big as Thor's, but hardly made a difference in this case. "But why would he want to?"

  Thor hadn't thought of it that way. Now he felt an unfamiliar lump in his throat. "He doesn't want to! He likes it here!"

  "And why no alarm? You say the fence is broken, and mind you, I'm not questioning your word, lad, but the current must have been interrupted, then. Are you sure—?"

  "I'll show you the place," Thor said quickly. "The power strands are still in place. He must have shied away from them."

  Skip followed him down to the fence. The break was in the forest section, so they had to get quite close before it was visible. Thor was perversely afraid it wouldn't be there, now that he had announced it, and that he'd be shown up for a fifteen year old wolf-crier. But then they saw it. "There!" he cried.

  Skip inspected the break with professional competence. "He broke it, all right! The force was from the inside. Must've ducked his head and pulled up his feet and hurtled through. I should have known he was getting too big for this compound."

  "But why?" Thor cried, seeing it as a personal betrayal. Then his lip curled, as he got a notion. "Someone must have been teasing him again—peppering him with buckshot—"

  Skip reached across and tousled Thor's hair—an action Thor had never much liked, yet had not been able to protest. Their hair was the same color, but Thor's was much thicker. It seemed that this gave Skip a proprietary right. "You've been reading westerns again, lad. Citizens don't carry guns any more, remember? Not unless they're deputized for some emergency. Not since those assassinations of the Sixties and Seventies—"

  "And Eighties and Nineties," Thor agreed. "I know. But Balook just wouldn't have done it on his own!"

  Skip shook his head. "He's a big, big animal, lad. Largest hoofer ever. Twice the size of an elephant. Now he's filling out, maybe feeling his oats."

  "Balook doesn't eat oats!"

  Skip half-smiled. "Lots of males feel 'em that don't eat 'em, lad. You will too, soon enough. We don't know what's going on in his long head."

  "But he wouldn't leave me!"

  Skip didn't answer directly. "Remember," he said grimly, "he's big, but he's not smart. He could be hurt or lost already—and it'll take at least two days to requisition a copter."

  Thor's anger turned to apprehension for Balook, then back to anger. He was furious at this seemingly callous appraisal, for he loved Balook better than any person. But he was also angry at the animal for walking out on him in the night. It wasn't just the matter of breaking out; it was that Balook had gone alone, not waiting for Thor.

  Gone where?

  Skip looked at the tracks. The footprints were so heavy that the soft ground remained depressed, and the huge three toes showed separately. "No one forced him, looks like. See, lad—the spoor leads straight up to the break, and straight away from it. Little blood... and that's from the broken wires as he went through. He knew what he was doing, all right. He had somewhere to go." Then, before Thor could make another meaningless protest: "Come on, lad—we'd better have a huddle with the boss."

  Thor followed the foreman, numb. How could Balook have done this? The huge, friendly animal had always sought Thor's company, and mourned when Thor was absent. Balook knew that Thor always came for a visit in the morning, and so he was always near the stile. To take off like this—it just didn't make sense!

  They met with the Project Manager, Don Scale, in his crowded office. Scale was in his fifties, and somewhat pudgy and short; he looked incompetent, but probably wasn't. Thor had never really gotten along with him.

  Manuals and papers were piled up on the desk, and pictures of the Project layout were on the near wall. At one edge of a side table lay a portable self-powered lie detector that had always fascinated Thor. Its technical name was complex and irrelevant, and it wasn't intended as a security measure anyway. Every day Scale used it to take a reading on Balook, to determine the animal's overall state of health and tension; if Balook was nervous or in minor pain, the needle swung off the TRUE marker tow
ard FALSE. The stronger the upset, the farther over the needle went.

  Thor smiled to himself. There were years' worth of readings in the Project files, but they were meaningless. Balook did not like Scale and was always tense when the man came near. When Scale had been away for some conference, Skip took the readings—and they were much different, much closer to TRUE. Scale was in effect taking his own pulse. Somehow the man had never quite caught on to that.

  Skip quickly filled Scale in. "No sign of foul play," he finished. "Must've wanted to get out and explore the neighborhood."

  "And maybe that curiosity will kill him!" Scale snapped. "He must be recovered at all costs!"

  "He may not want to be recovered," Skip said. "He's basically a wild animal, come of age—"

  "He's tame!" Thor cried.

  "Tame around you, Nemmen," Scale said. He always used Thor's surname, which was one of the reasons Thor disliked him. Scale had never approved of Thor's participation in the Project, and seemed to be constantly trying to depersonalize him. "Less so around the rest of us. And as for strangers—"

  "He's wary of them," Thor agreed. "But any animal would be. Especially when they tend to see him as a freak."

  "There is a tremendous amount of money and skill invested in this project," Scale said. "The beast is unique. We must take all feasible steps—"

  "Money!" Thor cried contemptuously. There was yet another thing about the man that annoyed him: his preoccupation with money. To him Balook was not a living creature so much as an investment. Beast, indeed!

  "Listen, young man!" Scale said sharply, for once forgetting the surname as his fat jowl tightened. "You're only here on sufferance—"

  Skip put a cautioning hand on Scale's arm. "Easy, boss. The lad's got as much invested as anybody, only not in Caesar's coin. And he's the only one of us Balook really trusts."

  Scale grudgingly calmed himself. "Still, he ought to appreciate the gravity of the situation. If that animal kills one human being—"

  "Balook would never harm a person!" Thor cried. He had to fight back unmanly tears at the notion of such a charge. He could debate an issue about any other animal with vigor, but Balook was special. "He's gentle and shy—"

  "He's a rhinoceros," Scale said. "Rhinos are ornery—especially the big ones. He could turn ugly."

  "Not intentionally," Skip said, answering compassionately. "I've got to agree with the lad, sir—Balook is basically gentle." He returned to Thor. "But his sight is weak, especially in daylight. And he's big, mighty big. The way he broke that fence—well, he'd be hard put to it to stop in time, if he saw a man in the way. If he stampeded—"

  Thor put his face in his hands. He knew that Balook could stampede, and in that state crush anything in his path. Then he would have to be killed, for that was the law. Visitors were warned away from the ranch, nominally for their own protection, but actually for Balook's. Now Balook was loose in human territory; all bets were off.

  "The money is extremely close," the Manager said. "If we lose Balook, it will be all over for the Project."

  To that much Thor could agree wholeheartedly, though without gaining any respect for Scale.

  The men continued to discuss pros and cons in practical terms. Thor was unable to keep his mind on such things. Balook was gone!

  He remembered how he had first met Balook, back when the Project had first taken over this forest ranch. He had been a child of nine then, a neighbor's boy with time on his hands and boundless curiosity. He had never gotten along well with children his own age, so was alone much of the time.

  Unlike some loners, he was lonely. He had craved companionship, but not really of the human kind. His pet pony had foundered and been put away, making it worse. He had related to that animal better than to any human being. He had learned early that he could not afford to be open about his attachment, because others simply did not regard such a thing as significant. An animal dead? Too bad, and get another as good or better than the first. It was a nice animal? Surely so—but it was after all only a horse. Now stop whining and do your homework.

  So he had wandered alone. The fence around the compound had not been as high and strong then, and the grounds had remained in a state of natural wildness, rather than the cultivated wilderness of contemporary fashion. It had been easy for a child to sneak in and poke about.

  He had been amazed to discover a small zoo. Several female rhinoceroses were penned in what was now the tremendous stable. They were not particularly friendly, and though their noses had been de-horned they remained dangerous brutes. He stayed clear of them.

  But one was different. It was naturally hornless, and skinny and young—a year or less. It weighed several times as much as the boy, but was obviously a baby. It was grotesque even for a rhino, yet also cute in the manner of any young animal. In fact, it could be thought to resemble a deformed pony. And it was lonely.

  Thor had not realized just how remarkable that ungainly calf was. It nursed on the mother rhinos, who tolerated it only because they were confined and drugged, but it was of a different species. None of them could have birthed it naturally; none would lick it or comfort it, this homely pseudo-rhino. This ugly duckling creature.

  The thing was miserable. Men took care of it, cleaned its pen, washed its body, inoculated it, exercised it, protected it... and the rest of the time it stood in its isolated pen and bawled until it slept.

  Thor recognized the tone; he had often felt that way himself. The calf was emotionally isolated. When Thor extended his hand to it through the slats, it had first shied away in fright, then come close to sniff and lick eagerly, making little sounds of gratification. It seemed that no one had come to it before, just for company.

  All it needed was a friend.

  Thor had a similar need.

  They had become associates, surreptitiously. Thor would hide until the keepers went to the back shed for private beer and poker. Then he would join Balook, petting the calf, talking to him, brushing down his soft fur, being his friend. The calf was comforted, and so was the boy.

  It was, really, the only friendship either party had, that asked for nothing in return except acceptance and companionship.

  But Thor got careless, after several weeks, and did not allow for random variations in the Project schedules. One of the men caught him in the pen. Don Scale was summoned. The Project Manager was appalled that his invaluable charge was subject to the intrusions of a neighborhood brat. He reprimanded the boy severely and banned him from the premises.

  It was a blow to Thor, for there now seemed to be no use for his life. The long happy hours in the warm stable had given meaning to his existence. Without Balook there was nothing.

  Balook, too, languished. He was five hundred kilograms of helplessness, bawling plaintively in his pen. After a few days he gave up and lay there whimpering, lacking the initiative even to feed. The joy of companionship he had learned was now cruelly denied, and he had no way to understand. The lie-detector needle remained steadily on FALSE, confirming that Balook was really in trouble.

  Don Scale was not a stupid man, or an unduly arrogant one. He recognized the situation and resolved to make the lesser evil of it. Young Thor Nemmen received a formal pass and was added to the payroll at a nominal rate, with the title "Companion."

  That had been six years ago. Ever since, Thor had visited Balook daily, playing with him, climbing all over him, sharing his food in a fashion, snoozing with him. The animal had grown enormously, even after allowing for his nature; Scale's charts showed above-projected gains. Thor taught the rhino how to heed his directions when he rode, so they could share more fun by exploring the compound. Balook was never allowed to run loose within the "business" section of the Project, but when he was with Thor it didn't count. Balook was no genius, even for a rhino, but he was quick enough to learn that he had greater freedom when playing Thor's game than he did otherwise. Besides, exploring was fun. There were green growing trees out there, his favorite food after he was weaned f
rom milk.

  During school season they had to make special arrangements, for Balook could not understand the reason for Thor's absences. Thus Thor was permitted to attend TV classes—with the set in Balook's pen. This was an unforeseen blessing, for though Thor was willing to learn anything, he hated being crammed into a classroom with his peers. Boys his age tended to be loutish. They respected only those who had the muscle or skill to knock heads, and Thor was of barely average physical stature and had indifferent coordination. Some few boys had the compensation of intellect; Thor was not competitive there either. As a person he was rated at sixes and sevens; nobody found him worthwhile. Balook had freed him of that. To Balook, he was the greatest person in the world.

  The animal seemed to enjoy the programs, too, though he could hardly have understood them. Probably it was merely the rhino's feeling of participation with his friend that gave him pleasure. Once Thor had dreamed that he had dropped in on Balook unexpectedly, and caught him doing differential equations with his hoof in the dirt while the TV had a college math class on. 'I didn't know you could do that!' he exclaimed. 'Well, you never asked,' Balook replied. Then Thor had caught on, and woke up laughing. It was a foolish dream; Balook was the most remarkable creature on earth as he stood; he didn't need to be a genius too.

  Once Balook had fallen ill, despite the precautions of expensive veterinarians. Thor had to make special arrangements to stay with him day and night; the animal had little incentive to live without his friend. While Thor would never have wished any misery on Balook, it still gratified him to be so strongly needed.

  Then there was the time Thor himself had surgery for a small pollution-tumor on the lung. Air standards were strict, but violations occurred, and there was considerable residual effect from the old days of uncontrolled waste. He was twelve then, and Balook was four. They had to let Balook visit him, for the animal was unmanageable otherwise. Balook no longer bawled, he bellowed. No stall would restrain his super-elephantine bulk when he sulked. But the truth was that Thor himself did not prosper alone; that visit by the rhino was as necessary for his well-being as his had been for the rhino. He liked to think that Balook had understood that, and had raised his fuss for that reason.