Alfred van Vogt: The Players of Null-A

Finally, there was the Follower, whose science included accurate prediction of the future, a gadget for making himself insubstantial and which gave him such control of other people's minds that he had imposed Gilbert Gosseyn's upon Ashargin's. Of the three men, the Follower seemed the most dangerous. But that also had yet to be shown. Enro was speaking again.

'I have half a mind to make her his mistress,' he said. He stood scowling, then his face lighted. 'By heaven, I will.' He seemed suddenly in good humor, for he began to laugh. ‘That ought to be something to see,' he said. Grinning, he told an off-color joke about the sexual problems of certain neurotics, and finished on a more savage note. 'I'll cure that female of any plans she has.'

Secoh shrugged, and then said in a resonant voice, 'I think you're overestimating the possibilities. But it won't hurt to do as you suggested.' He waved imperiously at one of the attendants. 'Make a note of his Excellency's request,' he ordered in a tone of assured command.

The man bowed abjectly. 'Already noted, your excellency.'

Enro motioned to Gosseyn. 'Come along,' he said. 'I'm hungry.' His voice grew bitingly polite. 'Or would you like to be assisted to your chair?'

Gosseyn had been fighting the Ashargin body's reactions to the import of Secoh's 'request'. Fighting successfully, it seemed to him. He walked toward the chair, and he was taking up his position behind it when the sharpness of Enro's tone must have penetrated to Ashargin. Or perhaps it was a combination of overpowering events. Whatever the cause, what happened was too swift for defense. As Enro seated himself, Ashargin-Gosseyn fainted.

When he returned to the conscious state, Gosseyn found himself sitting at the breakfast table, his body being held upright by two waiters. Instantly, the body of Ashargin cringed, expecting censure. Startled, Gosseyn headed off the potential collapse.

He glanced at Enro, but the dictator was busily eating. Nor did the priest as much as glance at him. The waiters let go of his arms and began to serve him. The food was all strange to Gosseyn, but as each dish cover in turn was lifted, he felt a favorable or unfavorable reaction inside him. For once the unconscious compulsions of the Ashargin body had their uses. Within a minute or so he was eating food that was familiar and satisfying to the taste buds of Ashargin.

He began to feel shocked at what had happened. It was hard to participate in such a humiliating experience without feeling intimately a part of the disaster. And the worst part was that he could do nothing immediately. He was caught in this body, his mind and memory superimposed on the brain and body of another individual, presumably by some variation of Distorter similarity. And what was happening meantime to the body of Gilbert Gosseyn?

Such possession of another body could not be permanent —and, besides, he must never forget that the system of immortality which had enabled him to survive one death would protect him again. Therefore, this was a tremendously important incident. He must savor it, try to understand it, be aware of everything that went on.

'Why,' he thought in wonder, 'I'm here at the headquarters of Enro the Red, the reigning overlord of the Greatest Empire. Actually eating breakfast with him.'

He stopped eating, and stared at the big man in abrupt fascination. Enro, of whom he had heard vaguely through Thorson and Crang and Patricia Hardie. Enro, who had ordered the destruction of Null-A because it would be the simplest method of starting a galactic war; Enro, dictator, leader, caesar, usurper, absolute tyrant, who must gain some of his ascendancy by his ability to hear and see what was going on in nearby rooms. Rather a good-looking man in his way. His face was strong, but it was slightly freckled, which gave him a boyish appearance. His eyes were clear and bold, and blue in color. His eyes and mouth looked familiar, but that must be an illusion. Enro the Red, whom Gilbert Gosseyn had already helped to defeat in the solar system, and who was now waging the vaster galactic campaign. Failing an opportunity to assassinate the man, it would be a fantastic achievement to discover here in the heart and brain of the Greatest Empire, a method of defeating him.

Enro pushed his chair away from the table. It was like a signal. Secoh immediately ceased eating, though there was still food on his plate. Gosseyn put down his own fork and knife, and guessed that breakfast was over. The waiters began to clear the table.

Enro climbed to his feet, and said briskly, 'Any news from Venus?' Secoh and Gosseyn stood up, Gosseyn stiffly. The shock of hearing the familiar word at this remote distance from the solar system was personal, and therefore controlled. The jittery nervous system of Ashargin did not react to the name Venus.

The priest's thin face was calm. 'We have a few more details. Nothing that matters.'

Enro was intent. ‘We’ll have to take some action about that planet,’ he said slowly. ‘If I could be sure Reesha was not there——‘

'That was only a report, your excellency.'

Enro whirled, his expression grim. The mere possibility,' he said, 'is enough to hold my hand.'

The priest was equally bleak. 'It would be unfortunate,' he said coldly, 'if the League powers discovered your weakness, and spread the report that Reesha was on any one of thousands of League planets.'

The dictator stiffened, hesitated for a moment. Then he laughed. He walked over and put his arm around the smaller man's shoulder.

‘Good old Secoh,' he said sarcastically.

The Temple lord squirmed at the touch, but bore it for a moment with a distasteful expression on his face. The big man guffawed. 'What's the matter?'

Secoh withdrew from the heavy grasp, gently but firmly. 'Have you any instructions to give me?'

The dictator laughed once more, then swiftly he grew thoughtful. 'What happens to that system is unimportant. But I feel irritated every time that I remember Thorson was killed there. And I would like to know how we were defeated. Something went wrong.'

'A Board of Inquiry has been appointed,' said Secoh.

'Good. Now, what about the battle?'

'Costly but progressively decisive. Would you care to see the figures of losses?'

'Yes.'

One of the attending secretaries handed a paper to Secoh, who passed it silently over to Enro. Gosseyn watched the dictator's face. The potentialities of this situation were becoming vaster every moment. This must be the engagement which Crang and Patricia had referred to; nine hundred thousand warships—fighting the titanic battle of the Sixth Decant.

Decant? He thought in a haze of excitement: 'The galaxy

is shaped like a gigantic wheel—-' Obviously, they had

divided it into 'decants.' There'd be other methods of locating the latitude and longitude of planets and stars of course, but——

Enro was handing the paper back to his adviser. There was a pettish expression on his face, and his eyes were sulky.

'I feel indecisive,' he said slowly. 'It's a personal feeling, a sense of my own life force not having been fulfilled.'

'You have more than a score of children,' Secoh pointed out.

Enro ignored that. ‘Priest,’ he said, ‘it is now four sidereal years since my sister, destined by the ancient custom of the Gorgzid to be my only legal wife, departed for where?'

There is no trace.' The lean man's voice had a remote quality.

Enro gazed at him somberly, and said softly, ‘My friend, you always were taken with her. If I thought you were withholding information ' He stopped, and there must have

been a look in the other's eyes, for he said hastily, with a faint laugh, 'All right, all right, don't be angry. I'm mistaken. It would be impossible for a man of your cloth to do such a thing. Your oaths, for one thing.' He seemed to be arguing with himself.