Alfred van Vogt - The Players of Null-A

The Milky Way, close-up. Millions of the hottest and most dazzling suns of the galaxy. Here, amid beauty that could never be surpassed, Enro had launched his great fleets. He must believe that it was the area of final decision.

Faster, now, came Ashargin's memories of the week he had watched the great battle. Pictures took form of thousands of ships simultaneously similarized to the base of an enemy planetary stronghold. Each time, the similarization was cut off just before the ships reached their objective.

Out of the shadowless darkness, then, they darted toward the doomed planet. More ships attacking than all the surrounding sun systems could muster. Distances that would have taken many months, even years, by ordinary flight were bridged almost instantly. And always the attacking fleet gave the victim the same alternative. Surrender, or be destroyed.

If the leaders of any planet, or group of planets, refused to credit the danger, the ruthless rain of bombs that poured from the sky literally consumed their civilization. So violent and so concentrated were the explosions that chain reactions were set up in the planet's crust.

The majority of systems were more reasonable. The segment of fleet which had paused to capture or destroy merely left an occupying force, and then flashed on to the next League base.

There was no real defense. It was impossible to concentrate sizable fleets to oppose the attackers, since it was impossible to know which planetary system was next in line. With uncanny ability, the invading forces fought those fleets that were brought against them. The attacking forces seemed always to know the nature of the defense, and wherever the defense was fiercest there appeared a dozen Enro ships for every one that was available to the League power.

To Ashargin that was almost magical, but not to Gosseyn. The Predictors of Yalerta were fighting with the fleets of the Greatest Empire, and the defenders literally had no chance.

The flood of memory ended as the Grand Admiral's voice said ironically from behind him: 'Prince, the meeting is about to begin.'

It was a relief to be able to sit down at the long council table.

He saw that his chair was next to and at the right of the admiral. Swiftly, his eyes took in the rest of the room.

It was larger than he had first thought. He realized what had given him the impression of smallness. Three walls were veritable maps of space. Each was sprinkled with uncountable lights, and on each wall about ten feet up from the floor there were series of squares on which numbers flickered and whirled. One square had red numbers on it, and the figure shown was 91308. It changed as Gosseyn watched and jumped to 91749. That was the largest change he observed as he glanced around.

He waited for some explanation of the numbers to well up from Ashargin's memory. Nothing came except the information that Ashargin had not before been in this room.

There were squares with numbers in blue, and squares with yellow, green, orange and gray numbers, pink numbers, purple and violet numbers. And than there were squares in which alternate figures were different colors. It was obviously a method of distinguishing facts at a glance, but the facts themselves were unstable.

They changed from moment to moment. The figures went through violent gyrations. They seemed to dance as they shifted and altered. And there was no question but that they told a story. It seemed to Gosseyn that in square after square of cryptic numbers the ever changing pattern of the battle of the Sixth Decant was revealed.

It cost him a tremendous effort to withdraw his fascinated gaze from the squares, and to realize that Admiral Paleol had been speaking for several moments.

'. . . Our problems,' the gaunt and grim old man was saying, 'will scarcely be more difficult in the future than they have already been. But I called you here today to warn you that incidents have already occurred which will probably become more numerous as time goes on. For instance, on seventeen different occasions now, we have been unable to similarize our ships to bases, the Distorter patterns of which were secured for our great leader by the most highly organized spy system ever conceived.

'It is clear that some of the planetary governors have become suspicious and in their panic have altered the patterns. In every case so far brought to my attention, the planets involved were approached by our ships similarizing to a base

beyond them, and then breaking. In every case, the offending planet was given no opportunity to surrender, but was mercilessly destroyed.

'These eventualities, you will be happy to know, were foreseen by our great leader, Enro the Red. History has no previous record of one man gifted with such foresight, sagacity and with so great a will to peace.'

The final remark was an aside. Gosseyn looked quickly at some of the other men, but their faces were intent. If they saw anything odd in the description of Enro as a man of peace they held their counsel.

He had several thoughts of his own. So an involved spy system had procured for Enro the Distorter patterns of thousands of league bases. It seemed to Gosseyn that there was a fateful combination of forces now working in Enro's favor. In the period of a few short years he had risen from the hereditary rulership of a small planetary group to the height of galactic power. And as if to prove that destiny itself was on his side, during that same period a planet of Predictors had been discovered, and those gifted minds were now working for him.

True, the Follower who supplied them had plans of his own. But that would not stop the war.

'. . . Of course,' Grand Admiral Paleol was saying, 'the main league centers in this area are not rubbing out their Distorter patterns. It takes time to build up similarity connections, and their own ships would be cut off from any bases in which the patterns were altered. However, in the future we must reckon with the possibility that more and more groups will try to break away into isolation. And some of them will succeed.

'You see'—his long face creased into a cold smile—'there are systems which cannot be approached by similarizing to bases beyond them. In planning our campaign we made a point of launching all our initial attacks against planets that could so be approached. Now, gradually, our position will become more flexible. We must improvise. Fleets will find themselves in a position to attack objectives that were not formerly considered to be within our reach. To know when such opportunities exist will require the highest degree of alertness on the part of officers and crew members of all ranks.'

Unsmiling now, the old man looked around the table. 'Gentlemen, that about concludes my report. I must tell you that our casualties are heavy. We are losing ships at the average rate of two battleships, eleven cruisers, seventy-four destroyers and sixty-two miscellaneous craft every hour of operations. Of course, these are actuarial figures, and vary greatly from day to day. But, nevertheless, they are very real, as you can see by glancing at the wall estimators in this room.

'But basically our position is excellent. Our great obstacle is the vastness of space and the fact that it takes the time of a portion of our fleet to handle each separate conquest. However, it is now possible to estimate mathematically the length of the campaign. So many more planets to conquer, so much time for each—altogether ninety-four sidereal days. Any questions?'

There was silence. Then at the far end of the table, an admiral climbed to his feet.

'Sir,' he said, 'I wonder if we could have the views of the Prince Ashargin.'

The grand admiral arose slowly. The smile was back on his long, usually dour face. The prince,' he said dryly, ‘is with us as a personal emissary of Enro. He has asked me to say that he has no comments to make at this time.'