The Players of Null-A n-2

by Alfred Elton Van Vogt

  He went on quickly, The reason for my call will probably surprise you. It is of vital importance that you do not refer by name to the matter about which I am going to talk. What I intend to say will presently be reported to Enro, and any indiscretion on your part could have disastrous effects.'

  'Yes, yes, go on.'

  Gosseyn did not let it go at that. 'Have I your word?' he asked. 'Your word of honour?'

  The answer was cold. 'Honour does not enter into any relationship between a League authority and an outlaw. But,' continued Madrisol, 'I shall certainly not make any revelations that would be dangerous to a friendly planet.'

  It was the promise he wanted. Yet, now that it had been made, Gosseyn hesitated. Ashargin's memory of entire sun systems being destroyed put a restraint on his tongue.

  If Enro made a wild guess as to the planet involved, he could be counted on to act. A single suspicion would be sufficient. At the moment, Venus was an incident to the dictator. As long as it was kept in that status, the Venusians would probably be safe.

  Madrisol's voice came impatiently, 'I must ask you to come to the point.'

  Once more Gosseyn went over in his mind the words he had prepared—and took the plunge. He explained about the call that Gilbert Gosseyn had made several weeks before to Madrisol, and the request he had made at that time. 'Did you ever do anything about that?'

  Madrisol was frowning. I seem to recall the matter vaguely. I believe that one of my technician staff tried to put a call through.'

  'What happened?' Tensely.

  'Just a second. I'll check to see if the call was actually made.'

  'Careful,' cautioned Gosseyn.

  Madrisol's lips pressed more tightly together, but he nodded. He came back in less than a minute. 'No,' he said, 'the call has not yet been made.'

  Gosseyn stared at the man wordlessly for a moment. He was not absolutely convinced. It was expecting a lot of a man in Madrisol's position to reveal any information to the Prince Ashargin. But he remembered how curt the other had been when he had phoned him up from Venus. And this fitted. How it fitted.

  He found his voice. 'I urge you,' he said, 'to establish contact at once—personally.'

  He broke the connection, depressed. It was beginning to look as if Crang's desperate plan was not a last resort at all, but the only resort. And yet—no! Paleol would execute every person in the palace, Nirene, Patricia, Crang. . . .

  Gosseyn grew calm. No use thinking about such things. Unless some decisive action was taken Nirene and Crang and Ashargin—at least—would die shortly anyway. He must remember the great role that Crang had played on Venus, and trust that the Null-A detective was being as skillful now as he had been then.

  He would attempt to kill Enro if Crang advised it.

  It required more than an hour to figure out the pattern that he wanted. The actual words took only four and a quarter minutes to say into the recorder.

  It was an intricate process that he began then, intricate in the sense that he wanted to set up responses on the unconscious level of the mind, and actually change the reactions of the autonomic nervous system.

  What he attempted then was old in human history. The superb legions of Julius Caesar defeated vaster armies of the barbarians because the nervous systems of Roman soldiers had been trained to coordinated fighting. The legions of Caesar would have stood little chance against the armies of the Eastern Roman Empire of the Sixth Century.

  There had been only a slight change in weapons, but the training of the men had been improved.

  In 1940, the dictator Hitler had trained the nervous systems of his men in a new and different type of mechanical warfare. He was not defeated until superior numbers of men and machines adopted his methods. The machines existed before the blitzkrieg, but the nervous systems of the men who operated them had to be trained to the new integration. When that training was complete, superiority existed automatically.

  In the days that followed the fumbled peace of World War II, more and more people began to accept the conclusions which the new science of General Semantics was laboriously deriving from the mass of available evidence. One of these conclusions was, 'The human nervous system is uniquely capable of unlimited training, but the method is the determining factor.'

  Gosseyn's—and Crang's—idea was based on a principle of vision. A relaxed eye sees best. The normal eye remains relaxed when it shifts steadily. When, for any reason, an eye capable of good vision begins to stare, the image blurs. Unlike a camera, the eye sees clearly only on the instant following the relaxing shift.

  It seemed to Gosseyn that if he could, while in Ashargin's body—while he was waiting—-discover an automatic way for his extra brain to relax, then he would attain a quicker and sharper 'photograph' for similarity purposes. How could an extra brain be relaxed? An obvious approach would be the associative relaxation of the surrounding tissue.

  So he set about relaxing the blood vessels of the cortex, the thalamus, and the sub-cortex—where the embryo extra brain of Ashargin would be located.

  By association, all the cells around the blood vessels would automatically relax, also. That was the theory, and it had been proven many times.

  Each time the voice on the recorder made the suggestion, he imitated the method he used with his extra brain in his own body to obtain a 'memorized' area. Two hours went by. He reached the point where he could follow the pattern and think of other things.

  'Relax—look . . . relax—look . . .' The assassination plan would have to be very carefully worked out if it were true that Enro had guards watching him from peepholes in the walls. 'Relax—look ... relax—look . . . relax—look . . .' There were several possibilities, of course. Since Ashargin was supposed to make the attack, the whole of the prince's position

  had to be considered. Suppose that both Ashargin and Gosseyn were dead a week hence, would that revive automatically the nearest Gosseyn replacement body, in this case the Sleeping God of Gorgzid?

  'Relax—look . . . relax—look . . .' If it were the latter, then Gosseyn could see merits in the plan. He tried to imagine the effect if the Sleeping God should rise up to confront Enro and Secoh. 'Relax—look ... relax—look ... relax—look ...' It seemed to Gosseyn that there was one preliminary which he must take care of personally.

  If the sequence of events actually followed the pattern he had pictured, then he must make an investigation. He was assuming that the Sleeping God was a Gosseyn body.

  That would have to be checked.

  Enro did not turn up for lunch. Secoh, who arrived late, explained, 'He has gone to see Admiral Paleol.'

  Gosseyn studied the priest as he settled himself at the table.

  At forty, the other's face was marked with an intricacy of the passions that had impelled him to strive for the great rank he held. But there was more than that. After the way Secoh had talked to Enro on the day the lie detector was used on Ashargin, it seemed probable that the lord guardian was a man who believed what he taught.

  Was this the moment to broach the subject of an interview? Gosseyn decided that it was. How should he bring the matter up? His method, when he finally spoke, was frankness. When he had finished, Secoh stared at him thoughtfully.

  Twice, he parted his lips to speak. Twice, he stirred in his chair as if he intended to get up and leave. At last, he said mildly, 'The privilege of seeing the Sleeping God is granted only to members of the Order.'

  'Exactly,' said Gosseyn.

  Secoh looked startled, and Gosseyn hoped that there was a picture in his mind of what it would mean to have it publicly known that the Ashargin heir was a convert to the pagan religion that he cherished. Did he have a vision of an entire galaxy worshipping before the videophone image of the crypt of the Sleeping God? Gosseyn hoped so.

  Secoh put down his fork and knife, and placed his hands on the table. They were slim and delicate looking hands, but there was firmness in them, also. He said at last in a kindly voice:

  'My boy, I don't
wish to discourage you. Your position is an anomalous one. I would be happy to personally give you the lower order instruction, and by an extension of my discretionary powers I think that could be made to include the Ceremony of the Beholding.'

  So that was what it was called.

  'I must warn you, however,' Secoh went on; 'the usual protection assured novices and initiates would not be accorded to you. We are in process of creating a universal state and our great leader has found it necessary to make hard decisions regarding individuals.'

  He stood up. 'Tomorrow morning,' he said, 'be ready at six to go to the Temple. In view of your claims last week to be possessed, it had been my intention to take you into the presence of the Sleeping God. I am curious to know whether or not there will be an omen.'

  He turned and walked away from the table, and out of the room.

  In Gosseyn's case, the lower order instruction was part of the Ceremony of the Beholding. It was a history of the Sleeping God, and fascinating in its own way after the manner of folk tales.

  The Temple of the Mound had existed before men were on Gorgzid. In the misty past, after he had created the universe, the god had chosen the planet Gorgzid for his resting place.

  There, guarded by his chosen people, he slept from his arduous labors. A day would come when, waking at last from his brief slumber—brief in the cosmic sense—he would rise and carry on his work.

  To his people of Gorgzid had been given the task of making the world ready for his awakening. On that bright day he would want a universe united.

  As the rites proceeded, and the picture unfolded, Gosseyn realized many things for the first time. This was the justification for Enro's conquests. If you accepted the initial assumptions, then all the rest followed.

  Gosseyn was shocked. He was making an assumption of his own, that this was a Gosseyn body. If such was the madness that built up around Gosseyn bodies, then he who was immortal by means of a series of such bodies, would have to reconsider the whole problem of his immortality.

  It was about nine o'clock when he was dressed in a long white robe, and the Parade of the Beholding began. It was a curious route they took, down steps that fitted into a curved metal wall. They came to a depth in which was an atomic pile drive—and Gosseyn had his second shock.

  A spaceship! The Temple of the Mound was a ball-like spaceship buried in the soil drift of centuries, perhaps for thousands of years.

  They were climbing now, up the opposite curved wall. They came to the central floor, and turned into a room that hummed with the faint undercurrents of sounds. Gosseyn suspected the presence of many machines, but he didn't have his extra brain to verify the suspicion. The far wall curved into the room. From each corner arched a columned pylon. The four curved pilasters ended on a narrow buttress about twenty feet out from where the wall should have been.

  It could have been the head of a coffin. The inner wall was translucent and glowed with an all-pervading light. Little steps led from it to the top of the buttress. Secoh climbed one of the staircases, and motioned to Gosseyn to climb the one that led up from the other side. As he reached the top, a panel slid open in the upper portion of the crypt.

  'Kneel,' said Secoh sonorously, 'and behold!'

  From the kneeling position Gosseyn could see the shoulders, part of the arms and chest, and the head of the man who lay inside. The face was lean and very lax, the lips slightly parted. It was the face of a man of about forty. The head was large and the face had a strangely blank look. It was a good-looking countenance, but only because of its symmetry and line of cheek and bone. It was the face of a moron. There was not even a faint resemblance to Gilbert Gosseyn.

  The Sleeping God of Gorgzid was a stranger.

  They arrived back at the palace in time for lunch, and at first Gosseyn did not realize that the great crisis was upon him.

  There were two guests in the salon in addition to Enro, Patricia, Crang and Nirene—altogether eight people at the table. The visitors wore uniforms complete with the insignia of the rank of marshal. The conversation at the table was dominated by Enro and the two military men.

  Their conversation had to do with a Board of Inquiry that had investigated what was called a revolution. Gosseyn gathered that the revolution had been successful for reasons that were still obscure. The two officers were the Board.

  He watched them curiously. They both seemed, in their manners and expressions, ruthless men. Before they announced their recommendations, he decided that two such coldly intellectual individuals would inevitably solve any such problem by recommending the destruction of the rebel planets.

  He glanced at Crang and saw that the Null-A detective was impassive, but that, beside him, Patricia was showing signs of agitation. He realized that there must have been mention of the Board's work before his arrival in the salon. The two of them were definitely interested in what was going on. Abruptly, Patricia broke into the conversation.

  'Gentlemen,' she said sharply, 'I sincerely hope that you have not chosen the easy way out in coming to your decision.'

  The two officers turned and glanced at her, and then, as of one accord, looked questioningly at Enro. The Gorgzid studied his sister's face, a faint smile on his lips.

  'You may be sure,' he said suavely, 'that Marshals Rour and Ugell will have considered only the evidence.'

  'Naturally,' nodded Rour. Ugell merely gazed at Patricia with his ice-blue eyes.

  I want to hear the recommendations,' said Patricia curtly, 'before I make up my mind as to that.'

  The faint smile remained unchanged on Enro's face. He was enjoying himself. 'I seem to remember a rumor,' he said, 'that my sister once took a special interest in the system under discussion.'

  To Gosseyn the realization of the truth had come many seconds before. Venus! This was the Board of Inquiry that had been appointed to investigate the defeat of Thorson in the solar system.

  'Well, gentlemen,' said Enro amiably, 'I see that we are all interested in hearing what you have to say.'

  Ugell took a paper from an inner pocket, and put on a pair of glasses. He looked up. 'Are you interested in the reasons for our decision?'

  'Most certainly,' said Enro. 'What I want to know is, what happened? How did Thorson, one of the great trouble shooters of the empire, fail on a mission that was to be a mere incident in his career?'

  Rour was silent. Ugell said, 'Your excellency, we questioned more than a thousand officers and men. Their stories made the following picture. Our armies successfully captured the cities of the rebels. Then, on the death of Marshal Thorson, the new commander ordered that Venus be abandoned. Naturally, these orders were carried out. So you see it is no disgrace to our armies, but the action of one man for reasons which we have not been able to discover.'

  The picture was reasonably accurate. It failed to mention that Venusian Null-As had successfully defended their planet against the attacking forces. The investigation had not ferreted out the role that Gilbert Gosseyn had played in the death of Thorson, but, still, the facts that had been discovered were a part of the reality.

  Enro was frowning. 'Was Thorson murdered by his successor?' he asked.

  'There is no evidence pointing in that direction,' said Rour, as Ugell failed to answer. 'Marshal Thorson was killed during an attack which he personally led against a rebel stronghold on the planet, Earth.'

  Enro exploded into anger. 'The incredible fool,' he said savagely. 'What was he doing leading any force in person?' With an effort the dictator controlled himself. 'However, gentlemen, I am very glad to have heard this account. It fits in with some information which I already have, and with some theories of mine. At the moment I am troubled in my own palace here by people who are foolishly plotting against my life, and so I should like you to give me the name of the officer who succeeded Thorson as commander of our forces on Venus.'

  Ugell read from the paper: 'His name is Eldred Crang. We have been unable to find any trace of this traitor.'

  Enro stared
straight ahead. 'And, gentlemen, what are your recommendations?' Ugell read in a monotone, That the habitable parts of the system be sprayed with any one-year radioactive isotope that is available in the region, and that the system be rendered uninhabitable.'

  He looked up. 'Marshal Rour is rather taken with a new idea that a young woman psychologist has been urging upon him recently. That is, that some planet be populated solely with criminally insane people. It seemed to us, though this notion was not incorporated in the text of our findings that it might be an interesting experiment to carry out as soon as the planets in question become habitable again.'

  He handed the document to Enro, who took it without a word. There was a pause while he read it.

  So Enro had known all the time. That was the thought that Gosseyn held in his mind. Their silly little plot—which had never really got beyond the embryo stage—had probably amused him even as he pondered the most devastating answer he could make to all their hopes.

  It seemed clear, also, that he had known for some days who Eldred Crang was.

  Enro was passing the document to Patricia. Without looking at it, she started to tear it up.

  'That, gentlemen, is what I think of your recommendations.'

  She climbed to her feet. Her face was colorless. 'It's just about time, Enro,' she said, 'that you and your executioners stop this mad murder of every one who has the courage to oppose you. The people of the planets Venus and Earth are harmless.'

  'Harmless?' said Rour involuntarily. 'If they're so harmless, how is it that they were able to defeat our armies?'

  She turned on him, her blue eyes flashing. 'Your report has stated—just now—that there was no defeat. That the action to retreat was taken at the command of the officer who succeeded Thorson.'

  She leaned towards him. 'Is it possible that you are trying to cover up a defeat for our forces by a false statement, an appeal to the vanity of my brother?'

  She was beside herself, in a thalamic fury. With a gesture she waved aside his effort to speak, and answered her own question.