Null-A Three Read online

  The boy was speaking. “We’re going to get your secrets out of you. Every bit of information. How you did this to our ship. So start talking. And just so you know that I mean business I’ll burn you a little bit.”

  Even afterwards, Gosseyn could not be quite sure what happened then. A fleeting awareness was there—later—that energy was building up in a metal rod in throne chair above the boy’s head, and that the energy came from the boy.

  It was too fast for analysis. And his response, having been pre-set, was at a speed too great for visual, or auditory, or analytical awareness.

  In that split instant his extra-brain similarized the body of the boy emperor onto the couch of the capsule on which, earlier, his own body had lain.

  It was one of the two areas of the ship that he had “photographed” for future similarization escape purposes. And he chose it for the boy because it was a cushion, or mattress. And it would be more comfortable to arrive there than on the floor.

  During the next few moments, inside the throne room, there took place a series of events.

  The energized rod on the throne chair actually lit up, and a small flame leaped from it. The flame hit the ceiling with a sputtering sound.

  Beside Gosseyn, Four made a startled sound. And to his left, and behind, there was a collective gasp that could only have come from the courtiers.

  In front of all of them, the throne chair was visibly unoccupied. The boy emperor had disappeared.

  At least a dozen seconds went by.

  It was a distinct period of time. Each passing instant seemed almost palpable because there was, almost literally, no sound or movement. Yet he knew, of course, that there were other people in the room. And, although the term had no meaning in any extended sense, the feeling Gosseyn deduced as existing inside the skins of the young emperor’s retainers and followers, correlated with some variation of . . . dreadful pause!

  Silence ended abruptly. Several people gasped.

  For Gosseyn it had been a valuable few seconds. During that pause he had time to realize that he had better decide how he could guide these people to an awareness of what had happened—without being blamed.

  It was purpose, but without a single thought, yet, of what his explanation might be.

  At the moment, all he had was a limited recollection of what had happened. Standing there, he took the time to try to recall the details.

  His extra-brain had detected a particle flow in those fractional instants when the flow began . . . before it gained the full force it would have a few millionths of a second later. Unexpected, definitely. But fortunately he had pre-set a 20-decimal similarity, as he realized how dangerous the imperial boy was.

  All of those particles were diverted to the energy rod behind the boy. And the resultant momentary energy shine had actually made a crackling, hissing sound.

  The unexpected, incredible reality was that here, in the boy, was something on the same order of magnitude as the Gilbert Gosseyn extra-brain. The young emperor had an equivalent equipment inside his head of an additional portion of brain matter. A special mass of cells that was not possessed by normal human beings.

  Unfortunately, it was not merely a defensive mechanism. It operated by direct control of energy, which could be guided to a target. The boy’s stated intent had been to “burn” Gosseyn “a little bit.” The limitation implied some kind of moral consideration. Which further suggested that there had been an attempt somewhere in the boy’s early training to install restraint.

  Clearly, this child did not automatically kill those who offended. He merely damaged them, and thus frightened them. It was all-powerful in its way; but not as totally mad as it had seemed, to begin with.

  The implication: something could still be done.

  It was high speed evaluation . . . that completed as Gosseyn grew aware that others were recovering from their shock—

  Beside him, Four was straightening, turning. And Gosseyn, relieved, turned with him. In time to see Four bow in the direction of the courtiers, some of whom—Gosseyn now, belatedly, observed—were in uniform.

  “Draydart Duart,” said Four, “will you take charge?”

  There was a pause. And, evidently, everyone but Gosseyn knew who was being addressed. For, when movement came, it was one of the uniformed men who stepped out of the group, and walked towards where Four and Gosseyn waited. The other courtiers remained where they had been at the moment of Gosseyn’s entrance, and since.

  The man who came forward wore a reddish uniform. The upper part of the uniform sparkled with glinting metal shapes that, on earth, Gosseyn would have taken for granted were decorations. On that same earth, the man who wore the uniform would have been taken for age forty or so.

  And, since Four was deferring to him, he evidently represented high position, indeed.

  Gosseyn vaguely expected that the officer and Four would have a discussion. But, as he came up, it was Gosseyn that the military man addressed. His voice held an unexpected beseeching note in it, as he said, “He’s still alive?”

  Being addressed directly; being held responsible—automatically—made it an opportunity to present the self-protective thought Gosseyn had had.

  Gosseyn said, “This seems to be a special area of space for which you people have a strong affinity. I had a fleeting impression as the emperor disappeared that something inside the capsule, where I was found, was somehow triggered by the emperor’s special brain control of energy.

  “So now,” he continued his lie, as he began to expand his explanation, “we may have our first clue as to how you got here from where you were originally. Is it possible that his majesty was engaged in some penalizing act at the instant before the Great Transition took place?”

  He concluded, “I think you’d better send a guard of honor to the laboratory where you have the space capsule. My guess is that the boy . . . uh . . . his majesty is inside it.”

  “B-b-but,” sputtered the officer, “we thought it might be dangerous to keep aboard. So—” his face was gray—“ We launched it the moment that you left the laboratory.”

  It was the second big moment of shock.

  How fast can people react? Twice? Observation by way of General Semantics established that a thalamic response could be virtually instantaneous . . . The muscles twist away from a threat. The body jerks and pulses. The voice may even utter sounds, or words—

  How sensible were such responses? That, of course, depended on how much cortical activity was incorporated into those early responses.

  As far as Gosseyn could determine, very little of the cortex was involved in what he observed during those first moments after the military man said his fateful words. A dozen voices yelled almost simultaneously. There were sounds of people milling about. Several persons actually ran past where Gosseyn stood. If their direction showed purpose, then they seemed to be heading toward the throne chair. But, in fact, those particular movements ceased before the movers got to the throne. They stopped running, and did additional milling.

  It had the total thalamic look. But another possibility had occurred to Gosseyn. These were experienced toadies. Here were men so accustomed to being two-faced that, obviously, they would only feel relief if the imperial boy was completely and forever out of the way. Yet—

  Equally obviously, if the emperor was still recoverable, then each man had to establish for the benefit of onlookers that he had manifested sincere concern. Probably of equal importance for the future of these courtiers, whatever developed, there would be another heir, who would later judge these intimates. And the usual tattlers would be busy reporting on the unwary.

  For Gosseyn, who had his own problems, the detailed reactions of particular persons didn’t matter. It seemed real to him that his own future would be more secure if the boy was still alive. So he followed a simple rule: the observation of the earlier Gosseyns was that in a crisis the military took over. So—very simply—he kept his attention on the officer who had questioned him: Drayda
rt Duart, whose rank was surely some variation of Top Commander.

  As he anticipated, the Draydart recovered quickly from his own initial shock. Whereupon, he turned abruptly, and walked to a section of the wall near the throne chair. Arrived there, he pushed aside the drapery. Touched something on the wall itself. And began to talk.

  The precision reaction must have been noticed by others. Because, progressively, silence settled over the room. The elegantly dressed gentlemen-in-waiting ceased their milling and verbalizing at each other.

  And so the Draydart’s voice was suddenly audible as he, evidently, concluded his commands: “Act at once! And be very careful!”

  With those final admonitions, the officer allowed the draperies to fall back in place. And he turned; and that lean, fortyish face and body headed towards where Gosseyn waited with Four. As he came up, he seemed to address them both, as he said:

  “Naturally, our instruments kept track of the capsule. It has now been located, and is in process of being brought aboard once more.”

  He added, “A special team of scientists will open it, and escort the emperor to wherever seems best for him.”

  He concluded, speaking now directly to Gosseyn, “I’m not sure whether we should have you here when the emperor returns.”

  It was interesting to Gosseyn that the Draydart could talk as if concern for the boy, and where he should be taken when he was rescued, should be what was best for him.” Yet in the final comment take it for granted that the destination was automatic return to the throne room.

  Presumably, all that would be resolved at the moment of rescue. But actually there was a simple solution to Gosseyn’s own situation. “Why don’t you, he said, “when the time comes, ask his majesty whether he wants me present?”

  There was a pause. He was looking at the officers face; and there was visibly an adjustment of thought taking place. In seizing control as he had, the Draydart had manifested total military ascendancy over civilians. Automatically, that attitude had placed the boy, mentally, in a victim category, to be moved and maneuvered for his own good according to the Draydart’s best judgment. Just as the emperor would be not asked if he wished to be rescued, so in the first moments afterwards, he would be treated within the frame of rules and regulations.

  The pause ended. “Of course,” acknowledged the super-commander.

  It took a while; about twenty minutes. During that time everyone stood, strangely silent, waiting. People seemed to be gazing, not at each other, but off somewhere.

  Abruptly, there was the boyish voice again from another hidden ceiling speaker: “Yes, I want that so-and-so to be present. Don’t let him get away!”

  Gosseyn decided to assume that the so-and-so referred to was himself. It seemed to him that the emperor’s tone as he spoke the words, didn’t sound very favorable.

  As he had that thought, a man’s voice said from the ceiling: “Draydart Duart, check—” The word that followed was unknown to Gosseyn; it sounded like . . . “rutule.”

  What happened: the officer reached quickly to one of the decorations on the left shoulder of his uniform. The small, shiny object that he grasped was something on a chain. The Draydart simply lifted the thing to his left ear. And he seemed to be listening. After only a few seconds he allowed the small, silvery decoration to drop back in place.

  As he did so, he turned to the group of courtiers, and said, “We’ve to adjourn to the—” Once again it was a word unknown to Gosseyn. This one sounded like “braid.”

  But the basic meaning was obvious. The next interview would be in another room.

  Presumably, it was intended to be a location where the prisoner—Gilbert Gosseyn—would be confronted by more defense systems. Gosseyn, recalling how the activity of his extra-brain had already been registered on their instruments twice, had the unhappy feeling that new, protective devices would be available to defend the emperor against anything he might do in that area.

  Since, in all this, his overall purpose was to defend himself and, possibly, gain more information, it seemed obvious that the moment when he would have to make some final decision, was upon him.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Since he had no ulterior motives in connection with “his majesty”, Gosseyn decided there was no value in making a 20-decimal mental photograph of any portion of the throne room.

  The truth was, if for any reason he ever returned to such a significant area, it would look suspicious to everyone; and no excuse would thereafter be acceptable to the young emperor’s henchman. As of now they felt he could be of use to them in finding out what had caused their fleet to move to an unknown part of space: unknown to them, and, actually, unknown to him. So he had things to learn, also.

  The immediate information available was minor. But nonetheless Gosseyn took careful note that he was led from that very throne room along a corridor to an elevator area—there were half a dozen elevators in a row. One of these took him up—he estimated—the equivalent of eight floor levels. Then he was led along another corridor, this one lined with guards in gray uniforms, each of whom drew himself stiffly erect, and made a hand motion, as the Draydart walked by.

  The hand motion consisted of each guard placing the right palm on the middle of the chest. Presumably, it was a lower status military salute.

  The room they came to, presently, seemed to be more of a social reception area. There were settees and large chairs and tables; and the large group of courtiers, who had crowded into adjoining elevators, and had walked behind Gosseyn and his two guides—Four and the military chieftain—took up standing positions near one or another of the seats.

  There seemed to be several other entrances to the big room. From where he had stopped beside the Draydart, Gosseyn could see, off to one side, part of an alcove that undoubtedly led somewhere. And there were three draped doors, one on each wall. That was in addition to the one through which he had arrived.

  So here he was, standing with the others . . . waiting. Gosseyn felt no particular need to pre-plan his response to the second interview. But he felt vaguely unhappy because—what a waste of time! All these men and himself, obviously involved, he in his fashion, they in theirs, in a colossal event, but waiting now for a boy king who could be counted on to cause more problems.

  Instants after he had that negative reaction, the boy came at a rapid walk in through the alcove. Surprisingly, moments after entering, the child-emperor came to a teetering halt. And then, as if it were a last moment decision, he walked forward to within a dozen feet of Gosseyn.

  In its way, in view of what had happened, it was a brave action. And his bright eyes were equally brave as he stared at the prisoner. Abruptly, his face twisted—“What did you do? What did you do to me?”

  It was attack. The voice was high-pitched, outraged, brave. And Gosseyn’s first reaction was: okay, here we go again! Yet, after a moment, he sensed a different level of courage; and, at once, the situation seemed less threatening than . . . earlier . . . in the throne room.

  —As if this boy emperor’s brief sojourn inside the blackness of the capsule had triggered, for the first time in years . . . caution.

  “Your majesty—” Gosseyn spoke quietly—“my suggestion is that, until your scientists find out how your special control of energy operates in this area of space, use that extra part of your brain only when it is absolutely necessary.”

  Surprisingly, the boy was silent. Did it mean that he was having a rational thought?

  The answer to that question, Gosseyn realized grimly, was compounded by several negative aspects. The human cortex, where the ability to reason was believed to reside—and he accepted that it did—normally required until about age 18 V2, earth time, to become physically fully developed.

  Alas, the imperial boy was visibly about age 12 or 13. Five or more long earth years would have to pass before he could have the necessary brain equipment. And yet, though boys of 12 were impulsive, they could learn. They could grasp ideas. They coul
d learn, particularly, to practise restraint.

  Maybe right now this boy was getting his first real lesson in self-control.

  Gosseyn sighed inwardly, vaguely hopeful, as those thoughts flashed through his mind. Because, recalling the scared courtiers, the subservient military personnel, and, in fact, everybody he had met so far, it was about time.

  During those moments of Gosseyn’s private thoughts, the boy continued to stand. His face remained slightly twisted.

  And there was no question: something was about to happen.

  Was there anything Gilbert Gosseyn Three could do to channel in some acceptable fashion the strange combination of courage and incomplete brainpower that confronted him in the person of this youngster who, by inheritance, had the right to command the 178,000 men on this warship.

  Standing there, Gosseyn realized what was the real cause of his uncertainty: he had no personal life experience to help him determine what a 12-year-old might do.

  Neither he nor the earlier Gosseyns had any recollection of ever having been a boy? True, those predecessors, having both been on earth, and on other human-occupied planets, had watched children in various circumstances; and the memory of that was now in the mind of Gosseyn Three.

  But what they had observed seemed to be mostly children at play. Children competing in games of sport. That was the basic awareness now. Competition within the frame of games of all kinds.

  That had to be it. Hey!

  In its way it had been a lightning swift mental survey of the situation. And so, abruptly, not waiting for that incomplete brain to arrive at some wrong conclusion; and, in fact, abandoning the courtesy that was due this superboy. Gosseyn spoke without waiting for permission.

  He said, “I’ll bet I can hold my breath longer than you can.”

  There was a distinct silence in the room. Gosseyn Three had time to be aware of adult retainers in uniform and other formal attire, stiffening, and looking—yes—startled.

  Then: “I’ll bet you can’t,” said the boy emperor.