Alfred van Vogt: The Players of Null-A

She broke off. 'Did you find out how much longer we can stay here?'

'Bad news on that point,' said Crang. 'They have orders on Gela 30 to cut Venus off the individual "matrix" circuit the moment you and I get to Gela. They're leaving the way open for ships to come this way, which is something, but I was told that the individual "Distorters" will be cut off in twenty-four hours, whether we get to Gela or not.'

He stood frowning. 'If only Gosseyn would hurry. I think I could hold them an extra day or so without revealing your identity. I think we should take the risk involved. As I see it, Gosseyn's more important than we are.'

There's a tone in your voice,' Patricia Hardie said sharply. 'Something has happened. Is it war?'

Crang hesitated then: 'When I was sending the message just now, I tuned in on a confusion of calls from somewhere near the center of the galaxy. Some nine hundred thousand warships are attacking the central League powers in the Sixth Decant.'

The young woman was silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, there were tears in her eyes. 'So Enro has taken the plunge.' She shook her head angrily and wiped her tears. That settles it. I'm through with him. You can do anything you please to him if you ever get the chance.'

Crang felt unmoved. 'It was inevitable. The quickness of it annoys me. We've been caught off base. Just imagine, waiting till yesterday to send Dr. Kair to Earth to look for Gosseyn.'

'When will he get there?' She waved her hand. 'Never mind. You've told me that before, haven't you? Day after tomorrow. Eldred, we can't wait.'

She stood up, and came over to him. Her eyes were narrowed with speculation as she studied his face. 'You're not going to make us take any desperate chances, I hope.'

'If we don't wait,' said Crang, 'Gosseyn'll be cut off here nine hundred seventy-one light-years from the nearest interstellar transport.'

Patricia said quickly, 'At any moment Enro might have an atomic bomb "similarized" into the pit.'

'I don't think he'll destroy the base. It took too long to build up, and, besides, I have an idea he knows you're here.'

She looked at him sharply, 'Where would he obtain such information?'

Crang smiled. 'From me,' he said. 'After all, I had to tell Thorson who you were to save your life. I also told an intelligence agent of Enro.'

'Still,' said Patricia, 'all this is based on wishful thinking. If we get out safely, we can come back for Gosseyn.1

Crang stared at her thoughtfully. ‘There's more to this than meets the eye. You forget that Gosseyn always assumed that beyond him, or behind him, was a being he called, for want of a better name, a cosmic chess player. That's, of course, a wild comparison, but if it had any application whatsoever, then we've got to assume a second player. Chess is not a game of solitaire. Another thing: Gosseyn regarded himself as approximately a seventh-row pawn. Well, I think he became a queen when he killed Thorson. I tell you, Reesha, it's dangerous, to leave a queen in a position where it can't move. He should be out in the open, out among the stars, where he'll have the greatest possible mobility. In my opinion, so long as the players are hidden and able to make their moves without being caught or observed, just so long is Gosseyn in deadly danger. I think a delay of even a few months might be fatal.'

Patricia was briefly silent, then: 'Just where are we going?'

'Well, we'll have to use the regular transmitters. But I plan on us stopping somewhere to get news. If it's what I think it will be, there's only one place for us to go.'

'Oh!' the woman said in a flat tone. 'Just how long do you intend to wait?'

Crang gazed at her somberly, and drew a deep breath. 'If Gosseyn's name,' he said, 'is on the passenger list of the President Hardie—and I'll get that list a few minutes after it takes off from Earth—we'll wait here till it arrives—three days

and two nights from now.' 'And if his name is not on the list?’ Then we leave here as soon as we've made sure of that.' The name of Gilbert Gosseyn, as it turned out, was not on

the passenger list of the President Hardie.

8:43 a.m. Gosseyn wakened with a start, and almost simultaneously became aware of three things: what the time was, that the sun was shining through the hotel room window, and that the videophone beside the bed was buzzing softly but insistently.

As he sat up, he came further out of sleep, and abruptly remembered that this was the day the President Hardie was scheduled to leave for Venus. The thought galvanized him. The fighting had reduced travel between the two planets to a once-a-week basis, and he still had the problem of obtaining permission to get aboard today. He bent down and clicked on the receiver but, because he was still in his pajamas, left the video plate blank.

'Gosseyn speaking,' he said.

'Mr. Gosseyn,' said a man's voice, 'this is the Institute of Emigration.'

Gosseyn stiffened. He'd known this was going to be the day of decision, and there was a tone to the voice on the phone that he didn't like.

'Who's talking?' he asked sharply.

'Janasen.'

'Oh!' Gosseyn scowled. This was the man who had put so many obstacles in his way, who had insisted upon his producing a birth certificate and other documents and had refused to recognize a favorable lie detector test. Janasen was a minor official, a rank which was surprising in view of his almost pathological refusal to do anything on his own initiative. He was no person to talk to on the day that a ship was due to leave for Venus.

Gosseyn reached down and clicked on the video plate. He waited till the image of the other's sharp face was clear, then: 'Look, Janasen, I want to talk to Yorke.'

'I have received my instructions from Mr. Yorke.' Janasen was imperturbable. His face looked strangely sleek in spite of its thinness.

'Put me through to Yorke,' said Gosseyn.

Janasen ignored the interruption. 'It has been decided,' he said, 'that in view of the troubled situation on Venus. . . .'

'Get off the line!' Gosseyn said in a dangerous voice. I'll talk to Yorke, and to no one else.'

'. . . that in view of the unsettled situation on Venus, your application for entrance is refused,' said Janasen.

Gosseyn was furious. For fourteen days he had been held off by this individual, and now, on the morning of the departure of the ship, here was the decision.

'This refusal,' said the unfazable Janasen, 'will in no way debar you from making your application again when the situation on Venus has been clarified by directives from the Venusian Council for Immigration.'

Gosseyn said: Tell Yorke I'll be along to see him right after breakfast.'

His fingers flipped the switch, and broke the connection.

Gosseyn dressed swiftly, and then paused for a final survey of himself in the full length mirror of the hotel room. He was a tall, stern-faced young man of thirty-five or so. His vision was too sharp for him not to notice the unusual qualities of that image. At a casual glance, he looked quite normal, but to his own eyes his head was clearly too large for his body. Only the massiveness of his shoulder, arm and chest muscles made his head even tolerable in proportion. As it was he could think of it falling within the category of 'leonine'. He put on his hat, and now he looked like a big man with a strongly muscled face, which was satisfactory. As much as possible he wished to remain inconspicuous. The extra brain, which made his head nearly a sixth larger than that of an ordinary human being, had its limitations. In the two weeks that had passed since the death of the mighty Thorson, he'd been free for the first time to test its terrific powers—and the results had sharply modified his earlier feeling of invincibility.

A few minutes over twenty-six hours was the maximum time during which his 'memorized' version of a section of floor was valid. No change might be visible in the floor, but somehow it altered, and he could no longer retreat to it in the instantaneous 'similarity' fashion.