That is all,' said Yeladji. 'Now, enter!'
It was a command, and Ashargin obeyed it in the all-out fashion that Gosseyn could not resist. His hand snatched forward. He grasped the knob with his fingers, turned it, and pushed the door open. He stepped across the threshold.
The door closed behind him.
On the planet of a far sun, a shadow thickened in the center of a gray room. It floated finally above the floor. There were two other conscious people in that narrow chamber, separated from each other and from the Follower by thin, metal grilles—but the shadow shape paid them no attention. He glided instead over to a cot on which lay the inert body of Gilbert Gosseyn.
He bent close, and seemed to listen. He straightened finally. 'He's alive,' he said aloud.
He sounded baffled, as if something had happened which was not within the purview of his own plans. He half-turned to face the woman through the bars that separated them—if a faceless thing could confront anyone.
'He arrived at the time I predicted?'
The woman shrugged, then nodded sullenly.
'And he's been like this ever since?' His resonant voice was insistent.
This time the woman did not answer directly. 'So the great Follower has run up against someone who doesn't conform.'
The shadowy substance trembled, almost as if he were shaking off her words. His reply was a long time in coming. 'It is a strange universe out there,' said the Follower finally. 'And here and there, on the myriad planets, are individuals who, like myself, have a unique faculty that lifts them above the norm. There is Enro—and now here is Gosseyn.'
He stopped, then said softly as if he was thinking out loud, 'I could kill him this instant by hitting him over the head or by knifing him or by any one of a dozen methods. And yet ——— ‘
'Why don't you? The woman's tone taunted him.
He hesitated. 'Because ... I don't know enough.' His voice grew cold and decisive. 'And besides I don't kill people I might be able to control. I shall be back.'
He began to fade, and presently he was gone from the squalid, concrete room where a woman and two men were imprisoned in cells that were separated from each other by a thin, fantastic network of metal.
Gosseyn-Ashargin found that he had entered a large room. At first sight, it seemed to be filled with machinery. To Ashargin, whose education had ended when he was fourteen, the picture was all confusion. Gosseyn recognized mechanical maps and videoplates on the walls, and almost everywhere he looked were Distorter instrument boards. There were several devices which he had never seen before, but he had so sharp a scientific comprehension that the very way in which they were fitted with the other machines gave him an inkling of their purpose.
This was a military control room. From here Enro directed, as much as one man could, the inconceivably large forces of the Greatest Empire. The videoplates were his eyes. The lights that twinkled on the maps could theoretically provide him with an over-all picture of any battle situation. And the very quantity of the Distorter equipment suggested that he tried to maintain a tight control over his far-flung empire. Perhaps he even had a linked system of Distorter transport whereby he could go instantly to almost any part of his empire.
Except for the fixtures, the great room was empty and unguarded.
There was a large window in one corner, and Gosseyn raced for it. A moment later, he was standing looking from a height down at the city Gorgzid.
The capital of the Greatest Empire glittered below him in the rays of its bright blue sun. Gosseyn remembered with Ashargin's memory that the old capital of Nirene had been leveled by atomic bombs, and that the entire area that had once been a city of thirty million was a radioactive desert.
The recollection startled Gosseyn. Ashargin, who had not witnessed the scenes of destruction on that nightmarish day, was indifferent to it with the thoughtless indifference of people who cannot imagine an unobserved disaster. But Gosseyn stiffened before the details of one more major crime that Enro had committed. The deadly thing was that this one individual had now plunged the galactic civilization into a war that was already vast beyond all imagination. If Enro could be assassinated. . . .
His heart pattered. His knees started to buckle. Swallowing, Gosseyn made the Null-A pause, and halted Ashargin's frightened reaction to the hard purpose that formed like a flash in Gosseyn's mind.
But the purpose stayed. It stayed. The opportunity that was here was too tremendous for anything or anyone to stand in its way. This faint-heart must be persuaded, must be cajoled, built up, propagandized into making one supreme effort. It could be done. The human nervous system could be whipped up into ecstatic effort and unlimited sacrifice.
But he'd have to watch out. At the moment the assassination was consummated, there would be danger of death, and there might even be the problem of a return to his own brain.
He stood there, eyes narrowed, lips compressed with determination. He felt the difference within the body of Ashargin, the gathering strength as that utterly different type of thought changed the very metabolic processes of the glands and organs. He had no doubt about what was happening. A new, stronger mind was in possession of this frail body. It was not enough, of course. Not by itself. Null-A training of muscle and nerve coordination was still necessary. But the first step was taken.
Kill Enro
He gazed out on the city of Gorgzid with a genuine interest; it looked like a government city. Even its skyscrapers were covered with lichens and climbing 'ivy'—it seemed to be ivy—and the roots were built with old-fashioned towers and odd slopes that appeared to crisscross each other. Of the city's fourteen million inhabitants, four-fifths of the working population occupied key positions in government buildings that had direct liaison with work offices on other planets. About five hundred thousand inhabitants—Ashargin had never learned the exact figure—were hostages who lived sulkily in the remote green suburbs. Sulkily, because they considered Gorgzid a provincial city and felt themselves insulted. Gosseyn could see some of the houses in which they lived, magnificent homes hidden among trees and evergreen shrubbery, homes that straddled entire hilltops and crept down into the valleys, and were lost in the mists of distance.
Gosseyn turned slowly away from the vista that spread there. For more than a minute, odd sounds had blurred from beyond a door on the opposite wall. Gosseyn walked towards it, conscious that he had already delayed longer than was good for a first morning. The door was shut, but he opened it firmly, and stepped across the threshold.
Instantly, the sound filled his ears.
V
NULL-ABSTRACTS
Because children—and childlike grownups—are incapable of refined discrimination, many experiences shock their nervous systems so violently that psychiatrists have evolved a special word for the result: trauma. Carried over into later years, these traumas can so tangle an individual that unsanity —that is, neurosis—or even insanity (psychosis) can result. Almost everyone has had several traumatic experiences. It is possible to alleviate the effect of many shocks with psychotherapy.
It took a moment, then, to accept the picture. He was in a large bathroom. Through a door to his right, partly open, he could see half of an enormous bed in an alcove at the far corner of a tremendous bedroom. There were other doors leading from the bathroom, but they were closed. And, besides, after one glance, Gosseyn brought his mind and his gaze out of the bedroom, and back to the scene that spread before him.
The bathroom was built of mirrors—literally. Walls, ceiling, floor, fixtures—all mirrors, so perfectly made that wherever he looked he saw images of himself getting smaller and smaller but always sharp and clear. A bathtub projected out from one wall. It, too, was made of mirrors. It curved rakishly up from the floor to a height of about three feet. Water poured into it from three great spouts, and swirled noisily around a huge, naked, red-haired man who was being bathed by four young women. He saw Gosseyn, and waved the women out of the way.
They were aler
t, those young women. One of them turned off the water. The others stepped aside. As silence settled over the bathroom, the bather sat back with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, studied the slim Gosseyn-Ashargin, The strain of that examination on Ashargin's nervous system was terrific. A dozen times, by an effort of will, Gosseyn made the Null-A cortical-thalamic pause. He had to do it, not merely to retain control, but for the simple, basic purpose of keeping Ashargin's body from losing consciousness. The situation was as desperate as that.
'What I'd like to know,' said Enro the Red slowly, 'is what made you pause in Control Center and look out of the window? Why the window?' He seemed intent and puzzled. His eyes were without hostility, but they were bright with the question he had asked. 'After all, you've seen the city before.'
Gosseyn couldn't answer. The direct interrogation was threatening to dissolve Ashargin into a flabby jelly. Grimly, Gosseyn fought for control, as Enro's face took on an expression of sardonic satisfaction. The dictator stood up and climbed out of the tub onto the mirrored tile of the floor. Smiling faintly, a remarkable muscular figure of a man, he waited while the women wrapped a gigantic towel around his dripping body. That towel was removed, and then he was dried by small towels vigorously wielded. Finally, a robe the color of his flaming hair was held for him. He slipped into it, and spoke again, still smiling:
'I like women to bathe me. There is a gentleness about them that soothes my spirit.'
Gosseyn said nothing. Enro's remark was intended to be humorous, but like so many people who did not understand themselves he merely gave himself away. The whole bathing scene here was alive with implications of a man whose development to adulthood was not complete. Babies, too, loved the feel of a woman's soft hands. But most babies didn't grow up to gain control of the largest empire in time and space. And the way Enro had sat in his bath, aware of what Gosseyn-Ashargin was doing in the adjoining room, showed that no matter how immature he was on the one hand, a part of his constitution had attained a comparatively superior state. How valuable that quality would be in an emergency remained to be seen.
For a moment, standing there, he had forgotten Ashargin. It was a dangerous lapse. The direct remark by Enro about the women had been too much for his unstable nervous system. His heart quickened, his knees shook and his muscles quivered. He staggered and would have fallen if the dictator had not signaled to the women. Gosseyn saw the movement out of the corner of his eyes. The next second, firm hands caught him.
When Gosseyn could stand again, and see clearly again, Enro was striding through one of two doors in the left wall into a room that was bright with sunlight. And three of the women were in the act of leaving the bathroom by the partly open bedroom door. Only the fourth young woman continued to brace his quivering body. The muscles of Ashargin started to shrink away from her eyes, but just in time Gosseyn made the pause. It was he who realized that her gaze was not contemptuous but pitying.
'So this is what's been done to you,' she said softly. She had gray eyes and classically beautiful features. She frowned, then shrugged. 'My name is Nirene—and you'd better get in there, my friend.'
She started to shove him toward the open door through which Enro had disappeared, but Gosseyn was in control again. He held back. He had already been struck by her name.
'Is there any connection,' he said, 'between Nirene the girl and Nirene the old capital?'
Her frown grew puzzled. ‘One moment you faint,’ she said. ‘The next you ask intelligent questions. Your character is more complicated than your appearance suggests. But now, quick! You must ——- '
'What does my appearance suggest?' asked Gosseyn.
Cool, gray eyes studied him. 'You asked for it,' she said. 'Defeated, weak, effeminate, childlike, incapable.' She broke off impatiently, 'I said, hurry. I meant it. I'm not staying another minute.'
She whirled around. Without looking back, she walked swiftly through the bedroom door, and shut it behind her.
Gosseyn made no attempt at speed. He was not enjoying himself. And he felt tense whenever he thought of his own body. But he was beginning to get a picture of what he must do if he—and Ashargin—were to survive the day without being utterly disgraced.
Hold back. Delay reactions in the Null-A fashion. It would be learning in action, with its many disadvantages. He had a conviction that for many hours, still, he'd be under the watchful, measuring eyes of Enro, who would be startled by any sign of self-control in the man he had tried to destroy. That couldn't be helped. There'd be unpleasant incidents as it was, enough, perhaps, to persuade even the dictator that all was as it should be.
And the moment he got into whatever room he was given, he'd make an all-out attempt to 'cure' Ashargin by Null-A methods.
Walking forward slowly, Gosseyn passed through the door beyond which Enro had disappeared. He found himself in a very large room where under an enormous window a table was laid for three. He had to take a second look before he estimated the size of the window at a hundred feet high. Waiters hovered around, and there were several distinguished-looking men with important documents held limply in their fingers. Enro was bending over the table. As Gosseyn paused, the dictator lifted, one after the other, the gleaming covers from several dishes, and sniffed at the steaming food underneath. He straightened finally.
'Ah,' he said, 'fried mantoll. Delicious.' He turned with a smile to Ashargin-Gosseyn. 'You sit over there.' He indicated one of the three chairs.
The knowledge that he was to have breakfast with Enro did not surprise Gosseyn. It fitted with his analysis of Enro's intentions toward Ashargin. Just in time, however, he realized that the young man was beginning to react in his terrible, self-conscious manner. He made the cortical-thalamic pause. And saw that Enro was staring at him, thoughtfully.
'So Nirene is taking an interest in you,' he said slowly. That's a possibility I hadn't considered. Still, it has its aspects. Ah, here is Secoh.’
The new arrival passed within a foot of Gosseyn, and so his first look at the man was from the side and the rear. He was dark-haired, about forty years old and very good-looking in a sharp-faced manner. He wore a single-piece, form-fitting blue suit with a scarlet cloak neatly draped over his shoulder. As he bowed to Enro, Gosseyn already had the impression of a fox-like man, quick, alert, and cunning. Enro was speaking:
'I can't get over Nirene talking to him.'
Secoh walked to one of the chairs, and took up a position behind it. His keen black eyes glanced at Enro questioningly. The latter explained succinctly what had passed between Ashargin and the young woman.
Gosseyn found himself listening in amazement. Here it was again, the dictator's uncanny ability to know what was going on where he could neither see nor hear in a normal fashion.
The phenomenon changed the direction of his thoughts. Some of the strain on Ashargin lifted. For a moment, then, he had a picture of this vast environment of galactic civilization, and of the men who dominated it.
Each individual had some special qualification. Enro could see into adjoining rooms. It was a unique skill, and yet it scarcely justified the height of power it had helped him to attain. At first sight it seemed to prove that men didn't need much of an edge over their fellows to gain ascendancy over them.
Secoh's special position seemed to derive from the fact that he was religious overlord of Gorgzid, Enro's home planet. Madrisol of the League was still an unknown quality.
Finally, there was the Follower, whose science included accurate prediction of the future, a gadget for making himself insubstantial and which gave him such control of other people's minds that he had imposed Gilbert Gosseyn's upon Ashargin's. Of the three men, the Follower seemed the most dangerous. But that also had yet to be shown. Enro was speaking again.
'I have half a mind to make her his mistress,' he said. He stood scowling, then his face lighted. 'By heaven, I will.' He seemed suddenly in good humor, for he began to laugh. ‘That ought to be something to see,' he said. Grinning, he told an off-color
joke about the sexual problems of certain neurotics, and finished on a more savage note. 'I'll cure that female of any plans she has.'
Secoh shrugged, and then said in a resonant voice, 'I think you're overestimating the possibilities. But it won't hurt to do as you suggested.' He waved imperiously at one of the attendants. 'Make a note of his Excellency's request,' he ordered in a tone of assured command.
The man bowed abjectly. 'Already noted, your excellency.'
Enro motioned to Gosseyn. 'Come along,' he said. 'I'm hungry.' His voice grew bitingly polite. 'Or would you like to be assisted to your chair?'
Gosseyn had been fighting the Ashargin body's reactions to the import of Secoh's 'request'. Fighting successfully, it seemed to him. He walked toward the chair, and he was taking up his position behind it when the sharpness of Enro's tone must have penetrated to Ashargin. Or perhaps it was a combination of overpowering events. Whatever the cause, what happened was too swift for defense. As Enro seated himself, Ashargin-Gosseyn fainted.
When he returned to the conscious state, Gosseyn found himself sitting at the breakfast table, his body being held upright by two waiters. Instantly, the body of Ashargin cringed, expecting censure. Startled, Gosseyn headed off the potential collapse.
He glanced at Enro, but the dictator was busily eating. Nor did the priest as much as glance at him. The waiters let go of his arms and began to serve him. The food was all strange to Gosseyn, but as each dish cover in turn was lifted, he felt a favorable or unfavorable reaction inside him. For once the unconscious compulsions of the Ashargin body had their uses. Within a minute or so he was eating food that was familiar and satisfying to the taste buds of Ashargin.
He began to feel shocked at what had happened. It was hard to participate in such a humiliating experience without feeling intimately a part of the disaster. And the worst part was that he could do nothing immediately. He was caught in this body, his mind and memory superimposed on the brain and body of another individual, presumably by some variation of Distorter similarity. And what was happening meantime to the body of Gilbert Gosseyn?
The Players of Null-A n-2 Page 4