The Weapon Makers

by A. E. van Vogt

  As Gonish collected his five hundred ten credits, the croupier stared at him. “Say,” he said in an astonished voice, “that’s only the second time since I’ve been at this table that anybody’s ever won on all three numbers.”

  The No-man smiled. “Mind over matter,” he said gently; and, disinterested, wandered off. He could almost feel the croupier’s astounded gaze boring into his back. What lie wanted was a game he couldn’t solve with his special abilities. And there was still nearly twenty-five minutes in which to find it. He came to an enormous machine with balls and an involved series of wheels under wheels. The balls, sixty of them, all numbered, started at the top, and, as the wheels spun, the balls rolled gradually downward, progressing from wheel to wheel. The farther down they went, the more they paid; but the first half of that complicated though swift journey didn’t count, and few ever got lower.

  The great attraction, so far as Gonish could make out, was the sensation of watching one’s ball go down, down, with hope not fading until the last second. It turned out to be too simple. His ball went farthest four times in a row. Gonish pocketed his winnings, and came finally to a game that was a sphere of black and white light. The two lights merged into a single, spinning beam, and came out all white or all black. The bet was, which would it be?

  Not once was he sure. He finally laid his first wager on the gambler’s basis that white was the symbol of purity. White lost. He watched his money whisked off, and decided to forget the purity. Black lost. Beside him, a woman’s rich laughter tinkled; and then, “I hope, Mr. Gonish, that you can do better than that with the giant. But please follow us to the private rooms.”

  Gonish turned. Three men and a woman stood there. One of the men was Prince del Curtin. The woman’s face under its mask seemed long and the mouth itself was unmistakably Isher. Her eyes through the mask slits glinted green and her familiar, golden voice completed the recognition picture.

  The No-man bowed low and said, “I’m sure I shall.”

  They went in silence to a luxuriously furnished drawing room, and sat down. Gonish took his time. There were questions he wanted to ask. The strange thing was, his casual references to Hedrock produced only silence. After a while, that was astounding. Gonish leanpH hart; studying the faces of the three men and the woman, genuinely disturbed. He said at last, very carefully, “My feeling is that you are withholding information.”

  It wasn’t, he thought after he had spoken, that they could be doing it consciously. Their earnestness was unmistakable. And they couldn’t possibly suspect that it was Hedrock he was after. Yet there seemed to exist among them a tacit understanding that nothing be said about Hedrock.

  It was Prince del Curtin who made the denial. “I assure you, Mr. Gonish, you are quite mistaken. Among us four is every scrap of information that has come in about the giant. And, of course, any clue that may have turned up in the past as to his identity will probably be somewhere in our minds, too. You have only to ask the proper questions and we will answer.”

  It was convincing. This was going to be harder than he had thought, and it was just possible that, dangerous though it was, he might have to come out into the open. Gonish said slowly, “You are mistaken in assuming that you are the only reliable sources of information. There is a man, probably the greatest man now living, whose extraordinary abilities we of the Weapon Shops are just beginning to appreciate. I am referring to Robert Hedrock, who holds the rank of Captain in Your Majesty’s army.”

  To Gonish’s amazement, the Empress leaned toward him. Her gaze was intense, her lips parted breathlessly, her eyes shining.

  “You mean,” she whispered, “the Weapon Shops consider Robert—Captain Hedrock—as one of the world’s great men?” She did not wait for a reply, but turned to Prince del Curtin. “You see,” she said. “You see!”

  The prince smiled. “Your Majesty,” he said quietly, “my opinion of Captain Hedrock has always been high.”

  The woman faced Gonish across the table, said in a strangely formal tone, “I will see to it that Captain Hedrock is advised of your urgent desire to interview him.”

  She knew! He had that much. As for the rest—Gonish leaned back in his chair ruefully. She would advise Hedrock, would she? He could just imagine Hedrock’s sardonic reception of the information. Gonish straightened slowly. His situation was becoming desperate. The entire Weapon Shop world was geared to act on the results of this meeting. And still he had nothing.

  There was no doubt that these people were as anxious to get rid of the giant as the Weapon Makers were to get hold of Hedrock; and the irony was that the death of Hedrock would simultaneously solve both problems. With an effort, Gonish mustered his best smile, and said, “You seem to have a little mystery among yourselves about Captain Hedrock. May I ask what it is?”

  Surprisingly, the question brought a puzzled stare from Prince del Curtin. “I should have thought,” the man said finally, politely, “that in your fashion you would long ago have put two and two together. Or is it possible that, of all the people of the solar system, you are not aware of what happened tonight. Where have you been since 7:45?”

  Gonish was startled. In his desire to keep his mind clear for this meeting, he had come early to Imperial City. At 7:30 he had gone into a quiet little restaurant. Emerging an hour and a half later, he had attended a play. That ended at 11:53. Since then, he had wandered along sight-seeing. He had ignored the news. He knew nothing. Incredibly, half the world could have been destroyed and he wouldn’t know. Prince del Curtin was speaking again:

  “It is true that the identity of the man in such a case is traditionally withheld, but—”

  “Prince!”

  It was the Empress, her voice low and tense. The men looked at her, startled, as she went on, more grimly, “Say no more. There is something wrong. All this questioning about Captain Hedrock has an ulterior motive. They’re only partly interested in the giant.”

  She herself must have realized that her warning was too late. She stopped and looked at Gonish, and the look in her eyes brought pity welling up in him. Until this moment, he had never regarded the Empress Isher as quite human. But there could be no pity. With a jerk, Gonish brought his hand up near his mouth, tore back the sleeve, and said ringingly into the tiny radio that was strapped there:

  “Captain Hedrock is in the Empress’ personal apartment—”

  They were quick, those three men. They bowled him over in one concerted rush; and then they were on top of him. Gonish offered no resistance, but submitted quietly to arrest. After a moment, he felt relief that he, who had been compelled by inexorable duty to betray his friend, would now die, too.

  Fifteen

  THE RUINS CONSISTED OF A BREAKTHROUGH INTO A MAIN corridor of the palace, and of gaping energy holes along the corridor itself where the fighting had taken place.

  Beside the Empress, Prince del Curtin said anxiously, “Hadn’t you better get some sleep, Your Majesty? It’s after four. And, as the Weapon Makers have not answered our repeated calls, there is nothing more that can be done tonight about your husband ... about Captain Hedrock.”

  She waved him away, vaguely. There was a thought in her mind, a thought so sharp that it seemed to have physical qualities; so painful that every moment it existed it was a bit of hell. She must get him back; no matter what the sacrifice, she must have Hedrock back. Strange, she thought finally, how she who had been so cold and steely and calculating, so almost inhumanly imperial—strange how in the ultimate issue she should prove to be like all the women who had ever become emotional over a man. As if the first shock of committing herself to one man had literally changed the chemistry of her body. When Hedrock had been announced at six o’clock the night before, her mind was already made up. She thought of her decision as intellectual, product of the need for an Isher heir. Actually, of course, she had never thought of anyone but Hedrock as the father. In the first audience she had granted him eight months earlier, he had coolly announced that he had co
me to the palace for the sole purpose of marrying her. That amused, then angered, then enraged her, but it had put him in the special category as the only man who had ever asked for her hand. The psychology involved had always been plain; and she sometimes felt, acutely the unfairness of the situation for other men who might have the ambition or desire. Court etiquette forbade that they mention the subject. The tradition was that she must ask. She never had.

  In the final issue she had thought only of the man who had actually proposed; and, at six o’clock he had come in response to her urgent call and agreed instantly to an immediate marriage. The ceremony had been simple but public. Public in that she took her vows before the telestat, so that all the world might see her and hear her words. Hedrock had not appeared on the telestat. His name was not mentioned. He was referred to as “the distinguished officer who has won Her Majesty’s esteem.” He was a consort only, and as such must remain in the background.

  Only the Ishers mattered. The men and women they married remained private persons. That was the law; and she had never thought there was anything wrong with it. She didn’t now, but for nearly ten hours she had been a wife, and during those hours her mind and metabolism adjusted. The thoughts that came had no relation to any she had ever had before. Curious thoughts about how she must now bear the chosen man’s children, and mother them, and of how the palace must be transformed spiritually so that children could live there. After six hours she had told him of her appointment to meet Edward Gonish. And went off with the memory of the odd expression in his eyes—and now this ruin, and the gathering realization that Hedrock was gone, snatched irresistibly from the heart of her empire by her old enemies. She grew aware that someone, the court chancellor, was recounting a list of precautions that had been taken to prevent leakage of the news that the palace had been attacked.

  No reports had been permitted to be broadcast. Every witness was being sworn to silence under strict penalties. By dawn, the repair work would be completed without trace, and thereafter any story that did come out would, seem a barefaced rumor, to be laughed at, and ridiculed. It had been, she realized, fast, effective suppression. Very important, that. The prestige of the House of Isher might have been dealt a damaging blow. But the success of the censorship made it all remote, secondary. There would be rewards and honors to dole out, but what mattered now was, she must get him back.

  Slowly, she emerged from her dark mood. Her party, she saw, was clear now of the muttering repair machines, and was moving along the wrecked corridor. Her mind withdrew further from itself, grew more intent on her surroundings. She thought: the important thing was to find out what had happened, then act. Frowning from her new purpose, she examined the mutilated walls of the hallway. Her green eyes flashed. She said with a semblance of her old sardonicism, “From the slant of the ray burns, our side seems to have done all the damage, except for the initial breach in the main wall.”

  One of the officers nodded grimly. “They were after Captain Hedrock only. They used a peculiar paralyzing ray that toppled our soldiers over like ninepins. The men are still recovering with no harmful effects visible, much as General Grail did after Captain Hedrock seemed to cause him to die from heart failure at lunch two months ago.”

  “But what happened?” she demanded sharply. “Bring me someone who saw everything. Was Captain Hedrock asleep when the attack came?”

  “No—” The officer spoke cautiously. “No, Your Majesty, he was down in the tombs.”

  “Where?”

  The soldier looked unhappy. “Your Majesty, as soon as you and your party left the palace, Captain Hed ... your censor—”

  She said impatiently, “Call him Prince Hedrock, please.”

  “Thank you, Majesty. Prince Hedrock went down in the tombs to one of the old storerooms, removed part of one wall—”

  “He what? But go on!”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Naturally, in view of his new position, our guards gave him every assistance in removing the section Of metal wall and transporting it to the elevators, and up to this corridor.” . “Naturally.”

  “The soldiers who reported to me said the wall section was weightless but it offered some quality of innate resistance to movement. It was about two feet wide and six and a half feet long; and when Cap .. „. Prince Hedrock stepped through it and vanished, and then came back, it—”

  “When he what? Colonel, what are you talking about?”

  The officer bowed. “I regret my confusion, Madame. I did not see all of this, but I have pieced together varied accounts. My mind of course persists in regarding as more important what I myself saw. I actually saw him enter the detached wall shield, disappear, and return a minute later.”

  The Empress stood there, her mind almost a blank. She knew she would get the story eventually, but right now it seemed beyond her reach, buried deep in a muddle of phrases that had no meaning in themselves. Captain Hedrock had gone to the tombs deep below the palace, removed a section of wall, and then what?

  She put the question incisively; and the colonel said, “And then, Your Majesty, he brought it up to the palace proper and stood waiting.”

  “This was before the attack?”

  The officer shook his head. “During it. He was still in the tombs when the wall was breached by the concentrated fire of the Weapon Shop warships. I warned him personally in my capacity of chief of the palace guards of what was happening. The warning only made him speed his return to the surface, where he was captured.”

  Briefly again she felt helpless. The description seemed clear enough now. But it made no sense. Hedrock must have known something was going to happen, because he had gone purposely down into the tombs immediately after her own departure to meet Edward Gonish. That part was all right. It seemed to indicate a plan. The strange thing was that he had come up and, right before the eyes of the Weapon Shop forces and the palace guards, had apparently used the wall section to transmit himself somewhere, as the Weapon Makers were reputed to be able to do. But, instead of staying away, he had come back. Insanely, he had come back, and permitted the Weapon Makers to take him prisoner.

  She said finally, hopelessly, “What happened to the section of wall?”

  “It burned up right after Prince Hedrock warned the Weapon Shop councilor, Peter Cadron, who led the attackers.”

  “Warned—” She turned to del Curtin. “Prince, perhaps you can obtain a coherent story. I’m lost.”

  The prince said quietly, “We’re all tired, Your Majesty. Colonel Nison has been up all night.” He turned to the flushing officer. “Colonel, as I understand it, guns from Weapon Shop warships breached the gap in the outer wall at the end of the corridor. Then one of the ships drew alongside, and sent men into the corridor, men who were immune to the fire of our troops—is that right?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “They were led by Peter Cadron of the Weapon Makers’ Council, and when they reached a certain point in the corridor, there was Prince Hedrock standing waiting. He had brought some kind of electronic plate or shield, six feet by two feet, from a hiding-place in the tombs. He stood beside it, waited until everybody could see his action, then stepped into the plate, vanishing as he did so.

  “The plate continued to stand there, apparently held in place from the other side; this would account for the resistance it offered when the soldiers carried it up from the tombs for Prince Hedrock. A minute after his disappearance, Prince Hedrock stepped back out of the shield and, facing the Weapon Shop men, warned Peter Cadron.”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  “What was the warning?”

  The officer said steadily, “He asked Councilor Cadron if he recalled the Weapon Shop laws forbidding any interference, for any reason, with the seat of Imperial Government, and warned him that the entire Weapon Shop Council would regret its high-handed action, and that it would be taught to remember that it is but one of two facets of Isher civilization.”

  “He said that!” Her voice was eager,
her eyes ablaze. She whirled on del Curtin. “Prince, did you hear that?”

  The prince bowed, then turned back to Colonel Nison.

  “My last question is this: In your opinion did Prince Hedrock give any evidence of being able to fulfill his threat against the Weapon Makers?”

  “None, sir. I could have shot him myself from where I stood. Physically he was, and I presume it, completely in their power.”

  “Thank you,” said the prince. “That is all.”

  There remained the fact that she must rescue Captain Hedrock. She paced up and down, up and down. Dawn came, a gray muggy light that peered through the huge windows of her office apartment shedding vague pools of light in its shadowy corners, and making no impression at all where there were artificial lights. She saw that Prince del Curtin was watching her anxiously. She slowed her rapid pacing, and said, “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe that Captain Hedrock would say things out of bravado. It is possible that there exists some organization of which we know nothing. In fact—” She faced him wildly. “Prince,” she said in an intense voice, “he told me that he was not, never had been, never would be a Weapon Shop man.”

  Del Curtin was frowning. “Innelda,” he said pityingly, “you are exciting yourself uselessly. There can’t be anything. Human beings, being what they are, sooner or later manifest any power they may have. That is a law as fixed as Einsteinian gravitation. If such an organization existed, we would have known of it.”

  “We have missed the clues. Don’t you see?” Her voice trembled with the desperation of her thought. “He came to marry me. And he won there. That shows the caliber of the organization. And what about the section of wall that he removed from the store-room in the tombs—how did that get there? Explain that.”

  “Surely,” said the prince in a stately voice, “the Ishers cannot but be mortal enemies of any secret organization that may exist!”