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The man rode tall in the saddle, framed against the stark horizon like some ancient warrior from a forgotten age. Animal skins clung to his broad shoulders, weathered and worn, a perfect match for the savage, unforgiving land that sprawled out in every direction. His eyes—cold, alert, and unyielding—swept the empty shoreline, scanning it with the practiced gaze of a soldier who trusted nothing. The horse beneath him moved with silent precision, its hooves striking the sand in a steady rhythm that echoed across the stillness. Behind him, a dark-haired woman gripped his waist, her silence as heavy as the sky above. Her hair, wild and wind-tossed, streamed behind her like a banner, and her expression betrayed nothing—no fear, no hope, only the distant stare of someone who had long since stopped asking questions. She wore the same rough hides as the man, though they hung from her with less purpose, more surrender. Whatever path had brought them here, it had left its mark—and whatever lay ahead, neither of them dared to guess. The land before them was dead and endless. But they kept riding.
Colonel George Taylor, late of the starcraft Icarus, rode with purpose, every muscle in his body tense beneath the worn hides of a world gone mad. The horse moved beneath him like a ghost, hooves silent against the shifting sand. Ahead, the landscape twisted into something out of a fever dream—an ancient tree, gnarled and massive, its skeletal branches clawing up at the gray, unforgiving sky like the fingers of some forgotten god.
And there, lashed to its trunk with thick, cruel vines, was an ape.
Not just any brute from this backward world—but one with fiery orange fur and eyes that gleamed with dangerous thought. Intelligence. Awareness. Maybe even cunning. The creature snarled softly as Taylor approached, muscles rippling beneath the restraints, more annoyed than afraid. There was contempt in that look—but something else, too. Something that almost looked like recognition. Or was it respect?
Taylor didn’t blink. He just kept riding. Whatever this place was, it had rules—and he was going to learn them the hard way.
Taylor drew the horse to a halt and dismounted, his boots sinking slightly into the damp, yielding sand. He approached the captive ape, his rugged face marked with both determination and a flicker of confusion. Shaking his head, he muttered, "It just doesn’t make sense. A planet where apes evolved from man? There’s got to be an explanation somewhere."
The ape’s voice, wary yet firm, broke through the rhythmic crash of waves. "Don’t look for it, Taylor. You may not like what you find." The weight of foreboding hung heavy in its tone.
Taylor’s jaw set tight, his gaze unflinching. Ignoring the creature’s cryptic warning, he turned to the horse and pulled himself back into the saddle. With a nudge, the horse surged forward, its hooves pounding against the sand. The woman behind him clung closer as the wind howled past, her quiet presence as enigmatic as the ruins they passed—shadows of a world long gone.
Dr. Zaius, the orange-furred ape, watched them disappear into the distance with a narrowed, calculating gaze. Behind him, a band of apes emerged from the tree line—chimpanzees and gorillas, their expressions grim. "Prepare the charges," Zaius commanded, his tone resolute but tinged with regret. "Seal the cave."
Zira, the chimpanzee scientist, stepped forward, her voice brimming with both curiosity and indignation. "But, Doctor, the artifacts in that cave could reveal so much about the past!" Her words hung in the air, defiant yet pleading.
Zaius met her gaze with an inscrutable expression. "Some knowledge is too dangerous, even for us."
Zira’s nephew, Lucius, spoke up, his youthful defiance cutting through the tense silence. "Dangerous? You’re just afraid of what it means for the future."
Zaius’s eyes darkened as he replied, "The future, young one, is a fragile thing. And those who forget the past are doomed to repeat its mistakes." His words carried the weight of a lesson learned too well.
The gorillas moved with practiced efficiency, hauling primitive explosives toward the jagged mouth of a cave nearby. The yawning opening seemed like a wound in the earth, its depths cloaked in shadow. Within the cavern, something metallic glinted faintly, catching Zira’s eye. But before she could speak, Zaius’s sharp gesture silenced her, and the grim work continued.
Farther down the beach, Taylor abruptly pulled his horse to a stop. His sharp eyes locked onto something half-buried in the sand. It was large and metallic, its surface scarred and pitted with age. Strange grooves and markings, neither human nor ape, crisscrossed its surface. Dismounting, he stepped toward the object, his boots crunching on the damp ground. The woman, Nova, followed silently, her wide, watchful eyes betraying an unease she couldn’t articulate.
Taylor brushed away layers of sand, revealing faint, sickly green symbols etched into the metal. A strange familiarity stirred in him, as if the markings whispered the echoes of a half-forgotten dream. His fingers traced the lines, a chill running through him despite the sun’s relentless glare. "What the hell is this?" he muttered, barely audible over the waves’ incessant crash.
Nova suddenly tugged at his arm, her eyes wide with apprehension as she pointed to the horizon. There, the air shimmered unnaturally, as if the fabric of reality itself were fraying. The distortion faded as quickly as it appeared, leaving Taylor to wonder whether his mind was playing tricks on him.
"We’ve got to keep moving," he said finally, pulling her back toward the horse. Yet the artifact lingered in his thoughts, an enigma that didn’t belong in this time—or even in this world. Deep within, an unshakable intuition whispered that his fate was bound to another—another man of past and present, one he had not yet met but whose existence would challenge everything he understood about time and survival.
Behind them, back at the twisted tree, the explosion of the cave roared through the air. The blast shook the ground, collapsing the cavern entrance in a plume of dust and debris. Zira turned away, her heart heavy. "You’ve done it, haven’t you?" she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You’ve destroyed more than a cave. You’ve destroyed the truth."
Zaius remained silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon where Taylor and Nova had vanished. Somewhere deep within the scrolls he had sworn to protect, whispers of another age spoke of unimaginable technology and ambition that once tore the world apart. Banishing the thought, he hardened his resolve. The future belonged to the apes—but only if the past remained buried.
Taylor and Nova pressed onward along the desolate shoreline. The waves lapped at their feet, erasing their tracks as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the sand. Ahead, something loomed in the distance, its silhouette stark and unmistakable. As they approached, the sight stole Taylor’s breath.
Half-buried in the shifting sands stood a colossal statue, its features worn and scarred by time. Its arm extended skyward in a gesture now rendered futile, its face unmistakably human—yet ancient, almost alien in its ruin.
Taylor fell to his knees, his eyes fixed on the wreckage of the Statue of Liberty. His voice broke with anguish as he whispered, "Oh, my God. I’m back. I’m home. All this time…" Despair overtook him, and his cry rose, raw and primal. "You maniacs! You blew it all up! Damn you! God damn you all to hell!"
His voice echoed across the lifeless beach, carrying his agony into the void. As his despair unfolded, the faint shimmer on the horizon flickered once more, unseen. The forces at work in this world were not yet done. Beyond his understanding, Taylor’s fate was tied to another—a man he had not yet met, whose journey, like his own, would blur the lines between past and present. Together, their intertwined destinies would confront a world still grappling with the remnants of what once was—and what could still be.
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