Alfred van Vogt - The Players of Null-A

The dome of the control room was limpidly transparent. Gosseyn stood for a long moment gazing down at the sea that was rushing by below. As far as he could see ahead there was only a mass of heaving waters, and not a sign of land.

He turned away to continue his exploration. There was a steel stairway in one corner. It led up at a steep slant to a closed hatch in the ceiling. Gosseyn started up immediately.

The loft turned out to be a storeroom. Gosseyn examined the labels on boxes and containers, not quite sure what he was looking for, but ready to follow up on any idea that suggested itself. Suddenly, as he examined a drum filled with degravitated air, the idea came.

As he continued his conducted tour, his plan grew more plausible. He glanced in at each of four bedrooms, a dining room, and a rear control room on the main floor, and then went down to the lower deck, but by now he was searching for something. He had previously sensed the presence of other human beings below deck. He finally counted six men and six women. They were submissive in manner, and judging from the neural flow from their bodies, obviously accepted their lot. He dismissed them from his calculations and, after peering in at spacious kitchens and more storerooms, he came to a workroom.

It was what he had been looking for. He sent Yanar about his business, and locked the door.

Gosseyn emerged three hours later with two tubes set up on a plate that would take power from the magnetic field of the ship's engines. Straight up to the loft he climbed, and spent more than fifteen minutes piping degravitated air into the airtight container inside which he had set up his tubes.

At first the oscillation was faint. It grew stronger. The rhythmic pulse beat in his extra brain steadily and evenly. On. earth, the graviton tube was known as a member of a group that was said to possess 'radiation hunger.' Lacking the gravitonic particle, it craved stability. Up to that point its reactions were normal, for all things in nature fought constantly to achieve a balance. It was the tube's methods that were fantastic.

It sent out radiations of its own to search for normal matter. Every time it touched an object, a message was dispatched back to the tube. Result: excitement. A change in the rhythm so long as the object remained in the vicinity. On Earth, technicians said of such moments, 'There's old Ehrenhaft wagging his tail again.'

Not that it did any good. And the tube never seemed to learn from experience. The process went on and on, without its hunger ever being satisfied. Surprisingly, as with many other things, such 'stupidity' was useful to those who cared to exploit it.

Gosseyn maneuvered the ship to a height of five miles, and then down almost to the surface of the water. He was able in this way to accustom himself to the normal rhythm variation of movement above a sea. Finally, he set the cue. If there was any variation in the rhythm, then his extra brain would be warned, whereupon he would similarize himself into either front or rear control room and decide on further measures.

It was a personal detector system on a very limited level, useless against weapons traveling miles a second, and certainly useless if a galactic Distorter ever got a 'fix' on his ship. But it was something.

Gosseyn hesitated, then found himself an end of wire and memorized it. Quickly he memorized two floor areas in the control room. And then, as the sun disappeared behind the shimmering horizon of water, and the twilight quickened toward night, he headed for the living room, conscious that he was ready for more positive action.

When Gosseyn entered the living room, Yanar was sitting in a chair near the window, reading a book. The room glowed with soft, magnetic lights; cold lights, yet they always looked so warm and intimate, because of the way their colors changed ever so little from moment to moment.

Gosseyn stopped just inside the doorway, and watched the other narrowly. This was the test. He similarized the wire end back in the control room to the first memorized area, and waited.

The older man looked up with a start from his book. He stared at Gosseyn grimly, then climbed to his feet, walked to a chair at the far end of the room, and sat down. A steady stream of unfriendly neural sensations, tinged with spasmodic discharges indicating doubt, flowed from the Predictor's nervous system.

Gosseyn studied the man, convinced that he had got as much of a response as he could hope for. It could be an attempt to fool him. His every move could have been foreseen and allowed for. But he thought not.

Accordingly, his major problem with these Predictors was solved. Each time he 'moved' the wire with his extra brain, he would confuse their ability to predict his actions. There would, in short, be a blur. He could carry on an interview, and be fairly sure that his questions were not being anticipated. There was one more problem: Should he or should he not be conciliatory with Yanar?

That was more important than it might seem. It took time to make friends, but it only required a shock moment to impress another person with the fear that he was in the presence of a superior. The power of Gilbert Gosseyn on Yalerta was going to depend on his ability to put over the idea that he was invincible. In no other way could he hope to operate at the top speed necessary to his plans and to the basic war situation in the galaxy.

The question was, at what speed would it be right for him to operate?

Gosseyn walked over to the window. It was almost pitch dark now, but the glint of the sea was visible in the half light. If there was a moon circling the planet, it was not yet above the horizon, or else it was too small to reflect a noticeable amount of sunlight.

He gazed at the light-flecked waters, and wondered how far he was from Earth. It seemed strange, even unsettling, to realize how great the distance must be. It brought a sense of smallness, an awareness of how much remained to be done. He could only hope he would be able to develop to the height of power that would be necessary in the critical days ahead. He was not a man who need ever think of himself as belonging to any one planet, but, still, he did have a strong feeling for the solar system.

A sound drew his attention. He turned away from the window, and saw that the slaves from the lower deck were busy in the dining room. He watched them thoughtfully, noting that the youngest and prettiest girl was the target for little, spiteful acts of domination by the other two women. She was about nineteen, Gosseyn estimated. She kept her eyes down, which was a significant sign. If he knew anything about thalamic people—and he did—then she was biding her time and awaiting an opportunity to repay her tormentors. Gosseyn guessed from the nature of the neural sensations that flowed from her that she would be able to do her greatest damage by playing the coquette with the men servants.

He studied Yanar again, and made up his mind. Definitely, irrevocably, no friendliness.

He walked slowly toward the man, making no effort to be stealthy. The Predictor glanced up, and saw him coming. He stirred uneasily in his chair, but remained where he was. He looked unhappy.

Gosseyn considered that a good sign. Except for those who had been in contact with the Follower, none of these Predictors had ever been subjected to the pressure of not knowing from instant to instant what the future might hold. It should be interesting to observe the effect on Yanar. And besides, he himself needed information badly.

Gosseyn began by asking the simple questions. And before each one—not only in the beginning, but during the entire interview—he shifted the wire in the control room back and forth between the floor areas 'one' and two.'

With occasional exceptions, Yanar answered freely. His full name was Yanar Wilvry Blove, he was forty-four years old, and had no occupation—that was where the first hesitation came.