Null-A Three Page 8

  He was aware that as he spoke there was a progressive change of expression in the woman’s face and eyes: it seemed to be acceptance of his reasoning.

  Indeed, moments later she began to nod. And then she said, “I can see a speedy marriage would be unwise. But a very private liaison, with the understanding between you and me that the end-result would be marriage, should surely satisfy all your religious scruples.” Gosseyn found himself smiling; for it was . . . surely . . . a subject to which General Semantics had never addressed itself. But he felt secure. “Not General Semantics,” he said confidently.

  During the interchange, brief though it was, the woman must have had time to have a basic thought of her own. For suddenly she smiled.

  “My dear friend,” she said in a voice that had in it the extra sweetness of sarcasm, “one of these times you must explain General Semantics and tell me all about its God; how he has managed to restrain the passions of the most willful and sexually determined creatures in the universe: men!”

  She broke off: “Right now, I am reluctantly accepting that, for some reason, you cannot adjust to a simple reality of the way of man and woman. And perhaps I shall have to re-evaluate my first reaction to you. But even that can wait. And—” more sweetly, still—“since I accept that nothing is going to happen right now, and I’ve already been cooled off by this outrageous conversation, why don’t you go back into that other room; and I’ll join you there presently?”

  “Thank you, madam,” said Gosseyn.

  Whereupon, he turned, and opened the door, and walked through it into the reception or living room.

  Vaguely, he was ashamed of himself. But also he felt relieved because, really—no commitments until this entire situation was clarified in some reasonable way. . . Right, Gosseyn Two?—”

  The reply came at once; but it had the same doubtful quality that was there in the back of his own mind: “We do need more information; but Patricia, here, is shaking her head over you, and smiling.”

  “Tell the lady,” communicated Gosseyn Three, “that women have been rejecting men since time immemorial, and feeling justified about it. And no need for anybody smiling.”

  It must have seemed true; because there was no reply.

  CHAPTER

  9

  Now what?

  He had seated himself in one of the comfortable chairs. He waited there, expecting the woman to appear any moment. But even if she did show, the question remained:

  Where do we go from here?

  Gosseyn Three was aware of the puffing of his own breathing; and several times in those first restless minutes there was the sound of his clothing rubbing against the soft, luxurious upholstery on which he sat. In between those perceptions—dead silence.

  The reception room continued to feed back to him the timeless beauty and costliness of an apartment that had been decorated and furnished to satisfy the requirements of people accustomed to total wealth.

  But, somehow, that merely accentuated his feeling of being an intruder, without any real knowledge of his surroundings.

  . . . This is pretty ridiculous—he thought.

  Incredibly, one of the mightiest events in the history of two galaxies had brought this giant battleship here to this area of the Milky Way galaxy from another island universe out there in space. And had apparently accomplished the feat at the speed of 20-decimal similarity.

  The implications were not immediately analyzable. But surely this wasn’t all there was. The colossal meaning of such an Event in Space Time needed to be scientifically studied and understood.

  . . . And with, at least, equal certainty, men like Breemeg and the Draydart, representative of the military people, were acting in some way, and not merely waiting.

  Something, in short, was happening somewhere on this vast ship. At very least, keen minds must at this very moment be wondering what was occurring between a stranger named Gilbert Gosseyn, on the one hand, and the emperor and his mother, on the other.

  Somebody would come to investigate before very long.

  With that thought—of an investigating group on the way—it occurred to Gosseyn that the restriction he had imposed on himself in the throne room did not apply here . . . The personal offer the woman made to me makes it mandatory that, if there is trouble, I should be able to come here and help her and the boy—

  So he stood up hastily. And quickly, then, he located a place on the floor in one corner, behind drawn-back draperies. And performed with his extra-brain the mental photographing process that would enable him at a later time to come here instantly by the 20-decimal similarity method.

  Moments later, as he sat down, he grew aware that his Alter Ego was manifesting mental activity.

  “I told the others what you just did—” the communication from Gosseyn Two was like his own thought, as before—“and they feel that they should join you, leaving me here to monitor things.”

  In the transmitted thought the unstated part of the meaning, “the what you just did” was the sort of process minds did automatically. The reference was to his action of having his extra-brain “photograph” a portion of the floor.

  “You mean . . . now?—” echoed Gosseyn Three’s answering thought.

  “So—” Gosseyn Two’s brain was continuing—“why don’t we see if, between us, we can use your location there in that room where you are at this moment, and transmit them there, as you transmitted the young emperor’s body into that space capsule. First, Eldred Crang—”

  The mention of his transmission of the boy’s body brought fleeting memories of other, distant photographed areas . . . still usable? he wondered—

  There was a sound off to his left, and slightly behind him. Then, the thought: “Next, Leej.”

  Gosseyn Three had turned. And so he saw, and at once recognized with his duplicate memory, that Eldred Crang was hastily stepping away from the draperies. As he did so, Leej was there, out of nowhere. She also moved rapidly aside, as Enro, and then the Prescotts, and finally Patricia Hardie Crang, also were, one after the other, in the room.

  “But—” mentally, belatedly, objected Gosseyn Three. “Don’t you think we should first?—”

  He stopped. A thought had come, awareness of the beginning of difference between himself and Gosseyn Two. Obviously, since his Alter Ego and he were at different locations, they had different problems. The concerns at one location did not communicate its full impact to the Gosseyn at the other location.

  It was a thought with a significant implication: . . . In terms of experience we’re going in different directions, moment by moment. Soon, we will not be duplicates, one of the other—

  No time to think about it now. There were too many things to do. Hastily, Gosseyn addressed the new arrivals: “The emperor’s mother will be here any moment. Please go in there—” he pointed to an alcove that led to a door that he had merely noticed earlier; he had no idea where it went. He finished, “Give me time to explain to the lady what—”

  They were quick. Even the mighty Enro, ruler of the Greatest Empire, after a word or two from his sister in his own language, merely smiled cynically, and then followed the others out of Gosseyn’s line of vision.

  If several moments passed after they had disappeared from sight, the passage of time was not recorded in Gosseyn Three’s awareness. It seemed as if the newcomers were still in the act of departing when, behind him, there was a click. And when he turned, the bedroom door was opening, and at once the emperor’s mother emerged.

  Abruptly, it was evident why there had been a delay in her appearance. She had put on a filmy gown; and the overall effect was of bluish fluffiness. Before Gosseyn Three could really examine the new clothing, the woman said, “I’ve called Breemeg. He will take you back to your Palomar.”

  It seemed to be a moment for rapid—not truth but—preparation for truth. Gosseyn said, “Madam, as no doubt has been reported to you, on awakening I found myself in mental communication with someone who looks exactly like me,
who at this moment is approximately eighteen thousand light-years from here—”

  The woman was nodding. Her manner and expression were serious, as she said with a small frown: “Everything that has happened, including the way of your arrival, has been very strange.”

  Gosseyn continued earnestly, “It’s a long story. But there’s no personal threat in it to anyone. However, that communication with my Alter Ego occurred at a time when he had several important persons with him—important in this area of space; and they would like to come here and talk to you and to your military and scientific personnel.”

  The woman said, “I’m sure it has to be possible. We are here in an isolated condition. One big ship, one hundred and seventy-eight thousand men, and one boy and one woman.”

  She added anxiously, “It may be that it will become apparent to some of the bolder spirits aboard this warship that old rules and old loyalties no longer apply.” She broke off: “Tell me, in an emergency what exactly could these associates of yours do?”

  It seemed to be the moment—if there ever could be one. The man braced himself, and said, “Your permission has been mentally overheard, and your authority accepted—and so here they are.”

  With that, he gestured toward the alcove. And, though what he had said was a lie, it was surely better that she had now had some advance warning.

  As it was, her eyes widened. And she took a single step backward. At which, somehow, his reassurance must have braced her. For she stood, then, silent, as the two women and four men walked into the room.

  Something of the shock, nevertheless, remained. “Eighteen thousand light-years,” she whispered. “Instantly.” Gosseyn said, “How do you think your ship got here? From an even greater distance. And also instantly?”

  All these moments he had been noticing that the frilly clothes were exactly what she should be wearing for a man whose memories seemed to have derived from earth. So now he spoke softly, “You’re very beautiful. You’ll be all right.”

  CHAPTER

  10

  Gosseyn Three stood gazing at the group. And they stared back at him.

  On one level it seemed to one of the thoughts Gosseyn had that what he was looking at was not too unusual an assortment of human beings—except for Enro. Five of the individuals were normal sized men and women, who could be trusted to be law-abiding. They would never cause trouble of their own volition.

  . . . But—standing with them, tall, and big, and cynical even in the way he held himself, was Enro. Enro, the emperor-king of the Greatest Empire, who shrank at nothing. He had a fleet out there in the distances with as many ships in it as this Dzan battleship had men.

  What was Enro doing here, with that flaming red hair and flaming murderous soul, accompanying his wonderful sister and her peaceful friends. Enro, the killer, the lusting ruler—Good God! . . .

  The pictures that came through, now that Gosseyn Three was consulting the duplicate—triplicate—Gosseyn memory, were so numerous and so horrendous that—

  With an almost physical effort, Gosseyn Three ended the useless train of thought. For it was suddenly apparent from what was in his mind from his faraway Alter Ego, that Gosseyn Two did not know the Great Man’s motivation either.

  . . . He suddenly contacted his sister—came the mental message from Gosseyn Two—and since he wanted to come alone, everyone suddenly felt hope—

  Enro had been the one who most desired to be transmitted to the Dzan ship.

  A mystery! There he stood, tall, sardonic, bearing a small facial resemblance to his sister. But otherwise, a strange, dangerous person. No reasonable deduction as to what he hoped to gain by coming here was possible with the data at hand, except—

  Watch out!

  Worse, there was no time, really, to consider, or even inquire from the man himself. Breemeg was coming, bringing with him all of that madness.

  Gosseyn turned toward the emperor’s mother, and asked, “Madam, is there any place we can hide these people until we can decide what to do, and who they should talk to?”

  The beautiful face relaxed into a smile. “Through that alcove.” She pointed to where he had briefly hidden them. “There’s a door there which leads to a rather large apartment with many bedrooms.” She explained: “We use it when Enin and I have relatives as guests.”

  It certainly seemed like the ideal interim solution. The entire problem temporarily solved by another whole set of rooms, where the six could wait until necessary preliminary arrangements were made.

  . . . I’ll go there with them, take a “photograph” of the floor, and join them there in the event of a threat—How’s that, Gosseyn Two?

  The distant Alter Ego replied mentally: Sounds like a good back-up idea. I supposed that since I transmitted them there I could also return them here—The voice in his mind from that enormous distance abruptly changed the subject: “. . . But I’d better caution you. As you have undoubtedly recorded, when I was twenty-decimaling back and forth in my efforts to handle Secoh the Follower and Enro the Red, the extra-brain progressively extended its ability to follow for longer and longer periods the changes in the various ‘photographed’ areas to which I transmitted myself. We may have a similar extended connection with some area in that other galaxy; and since that, so to say, kicked back on you, I suggest that you watch the twenty decimal process inside your head. If there’s any automatic process at all, put your attention at once on some nearby ‘photographed’ location. If you do that each time, it could be that presently the connection with the remote area will come under control.”

  Gosseyn Three was nodding grimly. “I get the idea. Better to similarize to one of my locations on this ship, or even to one of yours out there in our own galaxy rather than get involved in the complexities of the even more enormous distance.”

  “Right,” was the reply. Then, with what seemed to be a smile: “Please notice that we are mentally separating the two of us. No longer is it ‘alter ego’ but ‘my’ and ‘your.’ It will be interesting to see how that comes out. Perhaps we shall presently become two different people.”

  The mental dialogue had been at the speed of thinking; and all the while he had been walking with the new arrivals into the new set of rooms. And so, he stood, apparently casual, as the new people walked farther into the big living room of the apartment. Gosseyn Three took his extra-brain “photograph” just inside the entrance.

  Standing there, he was aware that five of the newcomers had immediately started exploring the place, and they essentially had their backs to him. Bedroom doors were being opened.

  What happened next would probably have occurred sooner or later. Gosseyn was about to walk away, when John Prescott said something to his wife, Amelia.

  That brought a thought; and Gosseyn went over to where the Prescotts had paused, and said with a faint frown, “Just a minute, my last clear recollection of Mrs. Prescott is that she was lying dead on earth in the City of the Games Machine. The way you knew she was dead was that, when you gave her an injection of what was, presumably, a reviving chemical, her lips remained pale instead of turning bluish.”

  Prescott was a husky man with thick, blonde hair, and his wife was a slender brunette. Now, the man merely smiled, and glanced questioningly at his wife. The slim woman smiled also. “Mr. Gosseyn Three,” she said, “the wife of a Venusian Null-A, who is playing a game inside the ranks of the enemy, often has to brace herself. What you’re remembering was a very unpleasant experience; but remember that a statement such as if-her-lips-don’t-turn-blue-then-she’s-dead is merely interesting, in terms of General Semantics. Simply saying it doesn’t make it so.”

  She smiled again, and finished, “If you’ll consult the joint Gosseyn memory you’ll discover we had a much shorter conversation about this with Gosseyn Two.” The memory was there after moments only. Somewhere, during the frantic fight to save Venus, the Prescotts had crossed paths with the incredibly active Gosseyn Two—who was jumping from one 20-decimal location to anothe
r at the time, battling at virtually every stop. So that, when the couple had recently re-appeared in the company of Eldred and Patricia Crang, no additional explanation was requested, or given.

  “Oh!” said Gosseyn Three, remembering. “Yes.” He added, “I’m glad.”

  They turned away, and so did he. But, seconds later, when he glanced back, he saw that they had disappeared into one of the bedrooms, leaving in view only Leej, the Predictor woman.

  She had paused, and now she stood looking directly at him. There was a faint smile on her distinctive, even-featured countenance.

  Leej, the predictor woman from the planet, Yalerta; Leej, the dark-haired, who might be able to tell him a little about what the future held. Even as he had that thought, she parted her lips, and spoke:

  There’s a period of about twelve minutes after you leave here,” she said, “and then you use your extra brain again. Which cuts off my view of your future right there.”

  The shortness of the time brought a mild shock. “Twelve minutes!” he echoed.

  He was abruptly fascinated. This was his own first experience with a predictor; and here she was, friendly and volunteering information.

  He said, “Any clues as to what leads up to my action?”

  “You’ve left the imperial apartment,” she replied, with that man.” She hesitated, then made the identification: “Breemeg.” She finished, “You’re walking along. And, suddenly, you’re aware of something. And that’s it. For my special ability, blankness.”

  Gosseyn stayed where he was; and the predictor woman must have expected it, because she didn’t move either. Gosseyn said, “I’ve had another thought.”

  She smiled. “I know. But say it—thoughts are not as clear as words in a prediction situation.”