The Players of Null-A n-2

by Alfred Elton Van Vogt

She came without a word, her feet almost noiseless on the floor. He had a glimpse of her face as she slipped past him. Her cheeks were colorless, her eyes blurred, but she held her head high.

  From the far side of what was now one room, Jurig snarled. 'That won't do you any good, hiding behind him.'

  It was a purely thalamic threat, serving no useful purpose even to Jurig. But Gosseyn did not let it go by. He had been waiting for an opening. A man who could not make up his mind about a larger issue had to appear to concentrate on a smaller one. So long as he gave the impression of being concerned with Jurig, as if that were the danger, just so long would the Follower await events. He said in a steely voice:

  'Jurig, I'm tired of that kind of talk. It's time you made up your mind whose side you're on. And I'm telling you right now that it had better be mine.'

  The Yalertan, who had been bracing himself and edging toward, stopped. The muscles of his face worked spasmodically, quivering between doubt and rage. He glared at Gosseyn with the baffled eyes of a bully whose smaller opponent was not afraid.

  'I'm going to smash your head against the cement,' he said from between clenched teeth. But he spoke the words as if he were testing their effect.

  'Leej,' said Gosseyn.

  'Yes?'

  'Can you see what I'm going to do?'

  'There's nothing. Nothing.'

  It was Gosseyn's turn to be baffled. True, if she couldn't foresee his actions, then neither could the Follower. But he had hoped to obtain a vague picture which would help him make up his mind. What should he do when he got outside? Run? Or enter the Retreat and seek out the Follower?

  His role in this affair was on a vaster level than that of either Jurig or Leej. Like the Follower, he was a major piece in the galactic game of chess. At least, he must consider himself one until events proved otherwise. It imposed restraints upon him. Escape alone would not solve his problems. He must also, if it could possibly be done, plant the seeds of future victory.

  'Jurig,' he temporized aloud, 'you've got a big decision to make. It involves more courage than you've yet shown, but I'm sure you have it in you. From now on, regardless of consequences, you're against the Follower. I tell you, you have no choice. The next time we meet, if you're not working unconditionally against him, I shall kill you.'

  Jurig stared at him uncertainly. It seemed hard for him to realize that a fellow prisoner was actually giving him an order. He laughed uneasily. And then the immensity of the insult must have penetrated. He became enormously angry, the anger of a man who feels himself outraged.

  'I'll show you what choice I have!' he shouted.

  His approach was swift but heavy. He held his arms out, obviously intending to hug and squeeze, and the surprise for him was when Gosseyn stepped right into the circle of those bear like limbs, and sent a powerful right to his jaw. The blow failed to land squarely but it stopped Jurig short. He grappled with Gosseyn with a sick look on his face. His expression grew sicker as he fought to gain a strangle hold on a man who, now that so telling a blow had been struck, was not only faster but stronger than himself.

  The Yalertan yielded suddenly, like a door that has been smashed open, with a battering ram. Gosseyn felt it coming, and with a final burst of strength sent the other staggering back across the floor, routed, defeated in mind and body.

  The shock would be lasting, and Gosseyn regretted it. But there was no doubt that it had been necessary. On such identifications, people like Jurig built their egos. All through his life, like the goats in the famous experiment, Jurig had butted his way to dominance. It was his way, not Gosseyn's, of expressing his superiority.

  Consciously, he would resent the defeat, find a dozen excuses for himself. But on the unconscious level he would accept it. So far as Gilbert Gosseyn was concerned, his confidence in his physical prowess was gone. Only Null-A training would ever enable him to reorientate himself to the new situation, and that was not available.

  Satisfied, Gosseyn similarized himself out onto the courtyard. Swiftly, then, the greater purpose of escape took full possession of his nervous system.

  He was vaguely aware of people in the courtyard turning to look at him as he ran. He had a glimpse, in turning his head, of an enormous pile of buildings, spires and steeples, masses of stone and marble, colored glass windows. That picture of the Follower's Retreat remained in his mind even as he kept 'watch' on every energy source in the castle. He was ready to similarize himself back and forth to escape blasters and power-driven weapons. But there was no change in the flow from the dynamo or the atomic pile.

  Automatically, he similarized Leej to the memorized area behind him, but he did not look to see if she was following him.

  He reached the tall fence, and saw that the spears which looked formidable enough in themselves were encrusted with the same kind of needles as had been the grilles in the prison cell he'd just left. Nine feet of unscalable metal—but he could see between the spears.

  It required the usual long—it seemed long—moment to memorize an area beyond the fence. Actually, it was not a memory. When he concentrated in a definite fashion on a spot, his extra brain automatically took a 'photograph' of the entire atomic structure of the matter involved to a depth of several molecules. The similarization process that could then follow resulted from the flow of nervous energy along channels in the extra brain—channels which had been created only after prolonged training. The activating cue would send a wash of that energy out, first along the nerves of his body, and then beyond his skin. For an instant then, every affected atom was forced into a blurred resemblance to the photographer pattern. When the approximation of similarity was made accurate to twenty decimal places, the two objects became contiguous, and the greater bridged the gap to the lesser as if there were no gap.

  Gosseyn similarized himself through the fence and started to run toward the woods. As he ran he felt the presence of magnetic energy and saw a plane glide toward him over the trees. He kept on running, watching it from the corner of his eyes, striving to analyze its power source. It had no propeller, but there were long metal struts jutting down from its stubby wings. Similar type plates ran along its fuselage, and that gave him confirmation. Here was the source of the magnetic power.

  Its weapons would be bullets or a magnetic beam blaster.

  The machine had been off to one side. Now, its nose twisted toward him. Gosseyn similarized himself back to the fence.

  A plume of colored fire puffed along the ground where he had been. The grass smoked. There were flashes of yellow flame from the brush, but that only mingled with the red-green-blue-orange of the blaster's own chromatic display.

  As the plane hissed past him, Gosseyn took a photograph of its tail assembly. And once more, at top speed, he started to run toward the trees more than a hundred yards away.

  He kept a watch on the plane, and saw it turn and dive down at him again. This time Gosseyn took no chances. He was a hundred feet from the fence, which was dangerously close. But he similarized the tail assembly of the plane to the memorized area beside the fence.

  There was a crash that rocked the ground. The metallic shriek of the plane, its speed undiminished by the process of similarization, was ear splitting as it screeched along parallel to the fence, tearing the fence with fantastic ripping sounds. It came to a rest an eighth of a mile away, a tattered fragment.

  Gosseyn ran on. He reached the woods safely, but he was no longer satisfied with merely escaping. If one attacking device existed, then so might others. Swiftly, he memorized an area beside a tree, stepped aside and brought Leej up to it. Next, he transported himself back to the area just outside the cell window, and headed at a run for the nearest door leading into the Retreat. He wanted weapons that would match anything the Follower had mustered to prevent his escape, and he intended to get them.

  He found himself in a broad corridor, and the first thing he saw was a long line of magnetic lights. He memorized the nearest one, and immediately felt a lot better. He h
ad a small but potent weapon that would operate anywhere on Yalerta.

  He continued along the corridor but no longer at top speed. The dynamo and the pile were near, but just where he had no way of knowing. He sensed the presence of human beings around, but the neural flow was neither tense nor menacing. He came to a basement stairway, and without hesitation headed down the long flight of steps. Two men were standing at the bottom, talking to each other earnestly but without anxiety.

  They looked up at him in surprise. And Gosseyn, who had already made his plan, said breathlessly, 'Which way to the power plant? It's urgent.'

  One of the men looked excited. 'Why . . . why—that way. That way. What's the matter?'

  Gosseyn was already racing in the direction indicated. The other called after him, 'The fifth door to your right.'

  When he came to the fifth door, he stopped just inside the threshold. Just what he had expected he didn't know, but not an atomic pile feeding power to an electric dynamo. The huge dynamo was turning softly. Its great wheel glinted as it moved slowly. To either side were walls lined with instrument boards. A half dozen men were moving around, and at first they didn't see him. Gosseyn walked boldly towards the power outlet of the dynamo, and memorized it. He estimated it at forty thousand kilowatts.

  Then, still without hesitation, he strode to the pile itself. There were the usual devices for looking into the interior, and an attendant was bending over a gauge making minute adjustments on a marked dial. Gosseyn stepped up beside him, and peered through one of the viewing devices into the pile itself.

  He was aware of the man straightening. But the long moment the other required to grasp the nature of the intrusion was all that Gosseyn needed. As the attendant tugged at his shoulder, too surprised for speech or anger, Gosseyn stepped back and, without a word, walked to the door and out into the corridor.

  The moment he was out of sight, he transported himself into the woods. Leej stood a dozen feet away, almost facing him.

  She jumped as he appeared, and babbled something he didn't catch. He waited for the expression on her face to indicate that she was recovering. He didn't have long to wait.

  Her body trembled, but it was a quaver of excitement. Her eyes were slightly glazed, but they became bright with eagerness. She grabbed his arm with quivering fingers.

  'Quick,' she said, 'this way. My trailer will be over here.'

  'Your what?' said Gosseyn.

  But she had started off through the brush, and she seemed not to hear.

  Gosseyn ran after her, his eyes narrowed, and he was thinking: Has she been fooling me? Has she known all this time that she was going to escape now? But then why wouldn't the Follower know, and be waiting?

  He couldn't help remembering that he was caught in 'the most intricate trap ever devised for one man.' It was something to think about even if he apparently succeeded in getting away.

  Ahead of him, the woman plunged through a screen of tall shrubs, and then he didn't hear her any more. Following her, Gosseyn found himself on the edge of a limitless sea. He had time to remember that this was a planet of vast oceans broken at intervals by islands, and then an airship came floating over the trees to his left. It was about a hundred and fifty feet long, snub-nosed, and about thirty feet high at its thickest. It plunged lightly into the water in front of them. A long, sleek gangplank came sliding down toward them. It touched the sand at the woman's feet.

  In a flash, she was up and along it. She called over her shoulder, 'Hurry!'

  Gosseyn pressed across the threshold behind her. The moment he was inside, the door flowed shut, and the machine began to glide forward and up. The swiftness with which everything happened reminded him of a similar experience he'd had at the Temple of the Sleeping God on Gorgzid while in the body of Prince Ashargin.

  There was one difference, vital and urgent. As Ashargin, he had not felt immediately threatened. Now, he did.

  VIII

  NULL-ABSTRACTS

  Aristotle's formulations of the science of his time were probably the most accurate available during his lifetime. His followers for two thousand years subscribed to the identification that they were true for all time. In more recent years, new systems of measurement disproved many of these 'truths', but they continue to be the basis of the opinions and beliefs of most people. The two-valued logic on which such folk-thought is founded has accordingly been given the designation aristotelian—abbreviation: A—and the many-valued logic of modern science has been given the name non-aristotelian—abbreviation: Null-A.

  Gosseyn found himself in a corridor at the bottom of a flight of steps. The corridor extended both right and left, curving gradually out of sight. At the moment he had no impulse for exploration. He followed Leej up the stairway toward a bright room, and he was already noticing the radical design of the ceiling lights. It confirmed his first 'feel' of the ship's power source. Magnetic power.

  The fact was interesting because of the picture it gave him of Yalertan scientific development, comparable to twenty-second century Earth. But it also gave him a shock. For him now the magnetic engine had a flaw. It was too complete. It performed so many functions that people who used it had a tendency to discard all other forms of power.

  The Predictors had made the old mistake. There was no atomic power aboard. No electricity. Not even a battery. That meant no really potent weapons, and no radar. These Predictors obviously expected to be able to foresee the approach of anything inimical to them, but this was not so any more. He had a vision in his mind of galactic engineers sending electrically guided aerial torpedoes with proximity fuses and atomic warheads, or any of a dozen devices that, once attuned to a target, would follow it till they destroyed it or were themselves destroyed.

  The worst part of it was that he could do nothing but find out as swiftly as possible just how much Leej could foresee.

  And of course, he could hope.

  The bright room into which Leej led him was longer, broader and higher than it had seemed from the entrance below. It was a drawing room, complete with couches, chairs, tables, a massive green rug and, directly across from where he had paused, a sloping window that bulged out like a streamlined balcony from the side of the ship.

  The woman flung herself with an audible sigh onto a couch near the window, and said, 'It's wonderful to be safe again.' She shook her dark hair with a tiny shudder. 'What a nightmare.'

  She added in a savage tone, 'That will never happen again.'

  Gosseyn, heading for the window, was stopped short by her words. He half turned to ask her on what she based her confidence. He didn't speak the question. She had already admitted that she couldn't foretell the actions of the Follower, and that was all he needed to know. Deprived of her gift, she was a good-looking, emotional young woman about thirty years old without any particular astuteness to protect her from danger. He could find out all she knew after he had done what he could to ward off possible attacks.

  As he started forward again, he felt the nerve sensation that indicated the approach of a human being. A moment later, a man emerged from a door that led to the forward part of the vessel. The fellow was slim, with an edge of gray in his hair. He ran over to Leej, and knelt beside her. 'My dear,' he said, 'you're back.' He kissed her with a quick movement. At the window now, Gosseyn ignored the lovers. He was looking down and back at a fascinating scene. An island. A green island, set like an emerald in a sapphire sea. There was a gem within the green gem, a pile of buildings that shone gray-white in the sun, and already it was hard to make out the details. They seemed unreal, and actually did not resemble buildings at this distance. His knowledge that they were enabled his mind to fill in the gaps.

  The ship was climbing a long, shallow slope of air. Its speed was evidently greater than he had thought from the smoothness of the acceleration, because, as he watched, the island shrank visibly in size. And he could see now that there was no apparent movement either on the ground or in the air above it.

  That braced h
im, though there had been in his mind through all the dangerous moments the knowledge that, even if he were killed, the continuity of his memories and thoughts would immediately be carried on by another Gosseyn body, which would wake up automatically in a remote hiding place. Unfortunately, as he had learned from an earlier version of his body, now dead, the next group of Gosseyns were eighteen years old. He couldn't escape the conviction that no eighteen year old could handle the crisis that had been created by Enro. People had confidence in mature men and not in children. That confidence might make a difference between victory and defeat in a critical moment. It was important that he remain alive in this body. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he considered the immediate possibilities. He had work to do. He must stop further transportation of Predictors to Enro's fleet, seize the warships that had landed, and, as soon as possible, attack the shadow-thing on his island. There were preliminaries to be accomplished, but those were

  the things he must work toward—and swiftly. Swiftly. The great and decisive battle of the Sixth Decant was hourly growing in fury. If he knew anything of human nature, then the League was already shaken to its tenuous foundations. Certainly, Enro expected it to collapse, and, childish though the dictator might be when it came to women, on the political and military level he was a genius.

  He was about to turn from the window when it struck him that Jurig, under sentence of death as he was, might be bearing the brunt of the Follower's wrath. Hastily, he similarized Jurig to the woods outside the fence. If the man was at all afraid, he would hide there and so be available for transportation to the ship later on.

  The action taken, he twisted back into the room in time to hear the woman say calmly, 'I'm sorry, Yanar, but he will want a woman, and naturally I must be the one. Good-by.'

  The man was on his feet, his face dark. He looked up and his eyes met Gosseyn's. The hatred that sparkled in their dark depths was matched by the sensation that jumped from his nervous system to Gosseyn's extra brain. He said with a sneer, 'I don't give my mistress up to anyone without a fight, even someone whose future is a blur.'