It was one more evidence that even so unintegrated a personality as Ashargin responded quickly, and that only a few hours of control by a Null-A trained mind could cause definite improvement.
'Ah,' said a staff officer just ahead of Gosseyn-Ashargin, 'here we are.'
Gosseyn looked up. They had come to the entrance of a small council room. It was evident—and Ashargin's memory backed him up—that a meeting of high officers was about to take place.
Here he would be able to make his new, determined personality of Ashargin felt.
There were officers already in the room. Others were bearing down from various points. As he watched, still others emerged from Distorter cages a hundred feet farther along the wall. Introductions came thick and fast.
Several of the officers looked at him sharply when his name was given. But Gosseyn was uniformly polite to the newcomers. His moment would come later.
Actually, his attention had been distracted.
He had suddenly realized that the great room behind him was the control room of a super-battleship. And more. It was the control room of a ship that was at this very moment engaged in the fantastic battle of the Sixth Decant.
The excitement of the thought was like a flame in his mind. During a lull in the introductions, he felt compelled to turn and look, this time with comprehending eyes. The dome towered a good five hundred feet above his head. It curved up and over him, limpidly transparent, and beyond were the jewel-bright stars of the central mass of the galaxy.
The Milky Way, close-up. Millions of the hottest and most dazzling suns of the galaxy. Here, amid beauty that could never be surpassed, Enro had launched his great fleets. He must believe that it was the area of final decision.
Faster, now, came Ashargin's memories of the week he had watched the great battle. Pictures took form of thousands of ships simultaneously similarized to the base of an enemy planetary stronghold. Each time, the similarization was cut off just before the ships reached their objective.
Out of the shadowless darkness, then, they darted toward the doomed planet. More ships attacking than all the surrounding sun systems could muster. Distances that would have taken many months, even years, by ordinary flight were bridged almost instantly. And always the attacking fleet gave the victim the same alternative. Surrender, or be destroyed.
If the leaders of any planet, or group of planets, refused to credit the danger, the ruthless rain of bombs that poured from the sky literally consumed their civilization. So violent and so concentrated were the explosions that chain reactions were set up in the planet's crust.
The majority of systems were more reasonable. The segment of fleet which had paused to capture or destroy merely left an occupying force, and then flashed on to the next League base.
There was no real defense. It was impossible to concentrate sizable fleets to oppose the attackers, since it was impossible to know which planetary system was next in line. With uncanny ability, the invading forces fought those fleets that were brought against them. The attacking forces seemed always to know the nature of the defense, and wherever the defense was fiercest there appeared a dozen Enro ships for every one that was available to the League power.
To Ashargin that was almost magical, but not to Gosseyn. The Predictors of Yalerta were fighting with the fleets of the Greatest Empire, and the defenders literally had no chance.
The flood of memory ended as the Grand Admiral's voice said ironically from behind him: 'Prince, the meeting is about to begin.'
It was a relief to be able to sit down at the long council table.
He saw that his chair was next to and at the right of the admiral. Swiftly, his eyes took in the rest of the room.
It was larger than he had first thought. He realized what had given him the impression of smallness. Three walls were veritable maps of space. Each was sprinkled with uncountable lights, and on each wall about ten feet up from the floor there were series of squares on which numbers flickered and whirled. One square had red numbers on it, and the figure shown was 91308. It changed as Gosseyn watched and jumped to 91749. That was the largest change he observed as he glanced around.
He waited for some explanation of the numbers to well up from Ashargin's memory. Nothing came except the information that Ashargin had not before been in this room.
There were squares with numbers in blue, and squares with yellow, green, orange and gray numbers, pink numbers, purple and violet numbers. And than there were squares in which alternate figures were different colors. It was obviously a method of distinguishing facts at a glance, but the facts themselves were unstable.
They changed from moment to moment. The figures went through violent gyrations. They seemed to dance as they shifted and altered. And there was no question but that they told a story. It seemed to Gosseyn that in square after square of cryptic numbers the ever changing pattern of the battle of the Sixth Decant was revealed.
It cost him a tremendous effort to withdraw his fascinated gaze from the squares, and to realize that Admiral Paleol had been speaking for several moments.
'. . . Our problems,' the gaunt and grim old man was saying, 'will scarcely be more difficult in the future than they have already been. But I called you here today to warn you that incidents have already occurred which will probably become more numerous as time goes on. For instance, on seventeen different occasions now, we have been unable to similarize our ships to bases, the Distorter patterns of which were secured for our great leader by the most highly organized spy system ever conceived.
'It is clear that some of the planetary governors have become suspicious and in their panic have altered the patterns. In every case so far brought to my attention, the planets involved were approached by our ships similarizing to a base
beyond them, and then breaking. In every case, the offending planet was given no opportunity to surrender, but was mercilessly destroyed.
'These eventualities, you will be happy to know, were foreseen by our great leader, Enro the Red. History has no previous record of one man gifted with such foresight, sagacity and with so great a will to peace.'
The final remark was an aside. Gosseyn looked quickly at some of the other men, but their faces were intent. If they saw anything odd in the description of Enro as a man of peace they held their counsel.
He had several thoughts of his own. So an involved spy system had procured for Enro the Distorter patterns of thousands of league bases. It seemed to Gosseyn that there was a fateful combination of forces now working in Enro's favor. In the period of a few short years he had risen from the hereditary rulership of a small planetary group to the height of galactic power. And as if to prove that destiny itself was on his side, during that same period a planet of Predictors had been discovered, and those gifted minds were now working for him.
True, the Follower who supplied them had plans of his own. But that would not stop the war.
'. . . Of course,' Grand Admiral Paleol was saying, 'the main league centers in this area are not rubbing out their Distorter patterns. It takes time to build up similarity connections, and their own ships would be cut off from any bases in which the patterns were altered. However, in the future we must reckon with the possibility that more and more groups will try to break away into isolation. And some of them will succeed.
'You see'—his long face creased into a cold smile—'there are systems which cannot be approached by similarizing to bases beyond them. In planning our campaign we made a point of launching all our initial attacks against planets that could so be approached. Now, gradually, our position will become more flexible. We must improvise. Fleets will find themselves in a position to attack objectives that were not formerly considered to be within our reach. To know when such opportunities exist will require the highest degree of alertness on the part of officers and crew members of all ranks.'
Unsmiling now, the old man looked around the table. 'Gentlemen, that about concludes my report. I must tell you that our casualties are heavy. We
are losing ships at the average rate of two battleships, eleven cruisers, seventy-four destroyers and sixty-two miscellaneous craft every hour of operations. Of course, these are actuarial figures, and vary greatly from day to day. But, nevertheless, they are very real, as you can see by glancing at the wall estimators in this room.
'But basically our position is excellent. Our great obstacle is the vastness of space and the fact that it takes the time of a portion of our fleet to handle each separate conquest. However, it is now possible to estimate mathematically the length of the campaign. So many more planets to conquer, so much time for each—altogether ninety-four sidereal days. Any questions?'
There was silence. Then at the far end of the table, an admiral climbed to his feet.
'Sir,' he said, 'I wonder if we could have the views of the Prince Ashargin.'
The grand admiral arose slowly. The smile was back on his long, usually dour face. The prince,' he said dryly, ‘is with us as a personal emissary of Enro. He has asked me to say that he has no comments to make at this time.'
Gosseyn climbed to his feet. His purpose was to have Ashargin sent back to Gorgzid, to Enro's headquarters, and it seemed to him the best way to do that was to start talking out of turn.
That,' he said, 'is what I said to the grand admiral yesterday.'
He paused to wince at the high tenor of Ashargin's voice, and to relax the tenseness that swept Ashargin's body. In doing so he glanced at the old man beside him. The grand admiral was gazing up at the ceiling, but with such an expression that Gosseyn had an insight into the truth. He said quickly:
'I am momentarily expecting a call from Enro to return to make my report, but if I have time I should like to discuss some of the philosophical implications of the war we are waging.'
He got no further. The ceiling grew bright, and the face that took form on it was the face of Enro. Every man in the room sprang to his feet, and stood at attention.
The red-haired dictator stared down at them, a faint, ironic smile on his face. 'Gentlemen,' he said at last, 'because of previous business, I have just now tuned into this council meeting. I am sorry to have interrupted it, particularly sorry because I see that I came on the scene just as the Prince Ashargin was about to speak to you. The prince and I are in accord on all major aspects of the conduct of the war, but right now I desire him to return to Gorgzid. Gentlemen, you have my respects.'
'Your excellency,' said Grand Admiral Paleol, 'we salute you.'
He turned to Gosseyn-Ashargin. 'Prince,' he said, 'I shall be happy to accompany you to the transport section.'
Gosseyn said, 'Before I leave I wish to send a message to Y-381907.'
Gosseyn planned his message in the belief that he would shortly be back in his own body. He wrote:
SHOW EVERY COURTESY TO THE TWO PRISONERS YOU HAVE ABOARD YOUR SHIP. THEY ARE NOT TO BE TIED OR HANDCUFFED OR CONFINED. BRING THE PREDICTOR WOMAN AND THE MAN, WHETHER HE IS UNCONSCIOUS OR CONSCIOUS, TO GORGZID.
He slipped the message sheet into the slot of the roboperator. 'Send that immediately to Captain Free on Y-381907. I'll wait here for an acknowledgment.'
He turned and saw that Grand Admiral Paleol was watching him curiously. The old man smiled, and said with a tolerant sneer, 'Prince, you're something of an enigma. Am I right in believing you think Enro and myself will some day be called to account for what we are doing?'
Gosseyn-Ashargin shook his head. 'It could happen,' he said. 'You might overreach yourself. But actually it wouldn't be a bringing to account. It would be a vengeance, and immediately there would be a new power group as venal, though perhaps more cautious for a while, as the old. The childish individuals who think in terms of overthrowing a power group have failed to analyze the character that binds such a group. One of the first steps is the inculcation of the belief that they are all prepared to die at any moment. So long as the group holds together, no individual member of it dares to hold a contrary opinion on that basic point. Having convinced themselves that they are unafraid, they can then justify all crimes against others. It's extremely simple and emotional and childlike on the most destructive level.'
The admiral's sneer was broader. 'Well, well,' he said, 'quite a philosopher, aren't you?' His keen eyes grew curious. 'Very interesting though. I had never thought of the bravery factor being so fundamental.'
He seemed about to speak again, but the roboperator interrupted. 'I am unable to get through to the destroyer Y-381907.'
Gosseyn-Ashargin hesitated. He was startled. He said, 'No contact at all?'
'None.'
He was recovering now. 'Very well, keep trying until the message is delivered, and advise me on Gorgzid.'
He turned, and shook hands with Paleol. A few minutes after that he pulled the lever of the Distorter cage which was supposed to take Ashargin back to Enro's palace.
XIII
NULL-ABSTRACTS
For the sake of sanity, be careful not to LABEL. Words like Fascist, Communist, Democrat, Republican, Catholic, Jew refer to human beings, who never quite fit any label.
Gosseyn expected to wake up in his own body. Expected it because it had happened on such an occasion the first time. Expected it with such a will to have it so that he felt a pang of disappointment as he looked through the transparent door of the Distorter cage.
For the third time in two weeks, he saw the military control room of Enro's palace.
His disappointment passed swiftly. Here he was, and there was nothing he could do about it. He stepped to the door, and was surprised to see that the room outside the cage was empty. Having failed to get back to his own body, he'd taken it for granted that he would immediately be asked to explain the meaning of the message he'd sent to Captain Free. Well, he was ready for that, also.
He was ready for many things, he decided, as he headed for the great windows at the far end of the room. The windows were bright with sunlight. Morning? he wondered as he looked out. The sun seemed higher in the sky than when he had come to Enro's palace the first time. It was confusing. So many different planets in different parts of the galaxy moving around their suns at different velocities. And then there was the loss of time factor of the so-called instantaneous Distorter transport.
He estimated that it was approximately 9:30 a.m., Gorgzid City time. Too late to have breakfast with Enro and Secoh— not that he was interested. Gosseyn started for the door that led to the outer corridor. He half expected to be told to halt, either by a command from a wall phone or by the appearance of someone with instructions for him. No one stopped him.
He had no illusions about that. Enro, who had a special personal gift for seeing and hearing distant sights and sounds, was not unaware of him. This was a deliberately granted opportunity, a withholding of control rooted in either curiosity or contempt.
The reason made no difference. Whatever it was it gave him a breathing spell free of tension. That was important, to begin with. But even that was unimportant in the long run.
He had a plan, and he intended to force Ashargin to take any and every risk. That included, if necessary, ignoring direct orders from Enro himself.
The corridor door was unlocked, as it had been a week before. A woman carrying a pail was coming along the corridor. Gosseyn closed the door behind him, and beckoned the woman. She trembled, apparently at the sight of the uniform, and she acted as if she was not accustomed to being addressed by officers.
'Yes, sir,' she mumbled. The Lady Nirene's apartment, sir? Two flights down. Her name is on the door of the apartment.'
Nobody stopped him. The girl who answered the door was pretty, and looked intelligent. She frowned at him, then left him standing. He heard her farther inside the apartment hallway call 'Ni, he's here.'
There was a muffled exclamation from inside. And then Nirene appeared in the hallway. 'Well,' she snapped, 'are you coming in? Or are you going to stand there like a nitwit?'
Gosseyn held his silence. He followed her into a tastefully furnished living room, and
sat down in the chair to which she motioned him. There was no sign of the other woman. He saw that Nirene was studying him with bleak eyes. She said in a bitter voice, 'Speaking to you carries heavy penalties.'
'Let me reassure you,' said Gosseyn, 'you are in no danger of any indignity from the Prince Ashargin.' He spoke deliberately in the third person. 'He's not a bad sort, actually.'
'I have been ordered,' she said, 'ordered on pain of death.' She was tense.
'You cannot help it if all your advances are refused,' said Gosseyn.
'But then you risk death.'
The prince,' said Gosseyn, 'is being used for a private purpose of Enro. You don't think Enro will leave him alive after he's through with him.'
She was suddenly very pale. 'You dare to talk like that,' she breathed, 'knowing that he might be listening.'
The prince,' said Gosseyn, 'has nothing to lose.'
Her gray eyes were curious—and more. 'You speak of him —as if he is someone else.'
'It's a way of thinking objectively.' He broke off. 'But I had two purposes in coming to see you. The first is a question, which I hope you will answer. I have a theory that no man can subjugate a galactic empire in eleven years,
and that four million hostages held here in Gorgzid indicate tremendous unrest throughout the Greatest Empire. Am I right about that?’
'Why, of course.' Nirene shrugged. 'Enro is quite candid about it. He is playing a game against time, and the game interests him as much as the result itself.'
'It would. But now, question two.' Quickly, he explained Ashargin's position in the palace, and finished, 'Has he yet been assigned an apartment?'
Nirene's eyes were wide and wondering. 'Do you mean to tell me,' she said, 'that you don't really know what has happened?'
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