Alfred van Vogt - The Players of Null-A

'Relax—look . . . relax—look . . .' If it were the latter, then Gosseyn could see merits in the plan. He tried to imagine the effect if the Sleeping God should rise up to confront Enro and Secoh. 'Relax—look ... relax—look ... relax—look ...' It seemed to Gosseyn that there was one preliminary which he must take care of personally.

If the sequence of events actually followed the pattern he had pictured, then he must make an investigation. He was assuming that the Sleeping God was a Gosseyn body.

That would have to be checked.

Enro did not turn up for lunch. Secoh, who arrived late, explained, 'He has gone to see Admiral Paleol.'

Gosseyn studied the priest as he settled himself at the table.

At forty, the other's face was marked with an intricacy of the passions that had impelled him to strive for the great rank he held. But there was more than that. After the way Secoh had talked to Enro on the day the lie detector was used on Ashargin, it seemed probable that the lord guardian was a man who believed what he taught.

Was this the moment to broach the subject of an interview? Gosseyn decided that it was. How should he bring the matter up? His method, when he finally spoke, was frankness. When he had finished, Secoh stared at him thoughtfully.

Twice, he parted his lips to speak. Twice, he stirred in his chair as if he intended to get up and leave. At last, he said mildly, 'The privilege of seeing the Sleeping God is granted only to members of the Order.'

'Exactly,' said Gosseyn.

Secoh looked startled, and Gosseyn hoped that there was a picture in his mind of what it would mean to have it publicly known that the Ashargin heir was a convert to the pagan religion that he cherished. Did he have a vision of an entire galaxy worshipping before the videophone image of the crypt of the Sleeping God? Gosseyn hoped so.

Secoh put down his fork and knife, and placed his hands on the table. They were slim and delicate looking hands, but there was firmness in them, also. He said at last in a kindly voice:

'My boy, I don't wish to discourage you. Your position is an anomalous one. I would be happy to personally give you the lower order instruction, and by an extension of my discretionary powers I think that could be made to include the Ceremony of the Beholding.'

So that was what it was called.

'I must warn you, however,' Secoh went on; 'the usual protection assured novices and initiates would not be accorded to you. We are in process of creating a universal state and our great leader has found it necessary to make hard decisions regarding individuals.'

He stood up. 'Tomorrow morning,' he said, 'be ready at six to go to the Temple. In view of your claims last week to be possessed, it had been my intention to take you into the presence of the Sleeping God. I am curious to know whether or not there will be an omen.'

He turned and walked away from the table, and out of the room.

In Gosseyn's case, the lower order instruction was part of the Ceremony of the Beholding. It was a history of the Sleeping God, and fascinating in its own way after the manner of folk tales.

The Temple of the Mound had existed before men were on Gorgzid. In the misty past, after he had created the universe, the god had chosen the planet Gorgzid for his resting place.

There, guarded by his chosen people, he slept from his arduous labors. A day would come when, waking at last from his brief slumber—brief in the cosmic sense—he would rise and carry on his work.

To his people of Gorgzid had been given the task of making the world ready for his awakening. On that bright day he would want a universe united.

As the rites proceeded, and the picture unfolded, Gosseyn realized many things for the first time. This was the justification for Enro's conquests. If you accepted the initial assumptions, then all the rest followed.

Gosseyn was shocked. He was making an assumption of his own, that this was a Gosseyn body. If such was the madness that built up around Gosseyn bodies, then he who was immortal by means of a series of such bodies, would have to reconsider the whole problem of his immortality.

It was about nine o'clock when he was dressed in a long white robe, and the Parade of the Beholding began. It was a curious route they took, down steps that fitted into a curved metal wall. They came to a depth in which was an atomic pile drive—and Gosseyn had his second shock.

A spaceship! The Temple of the Mound was a ball-like spaceship buried in the soil drift of centuries, perhaps for thousands of years.

They were climbing now, up the opposite curved wall. They came to the central floor, and turned into a room that hummed with the faint undercurrents of sounds. Gosseyn suspected the presence of many machines, but he didn't have his extra brain to verify the suspicion. The far wall curved into the room. From each corner arched a columned pylon. The four curved pilasters ended on a narrow buttress about twenty feet out from where the wall should have been.

It could have been the head of a coffin. The inner wall was translucent and glowed with an all-pervading light. Little steps led from it to the top of the buttress. Secoh climbed one of the staircases, and motioned to Gosseyn to climb the one that led up from the other side. As he reached the top, a panel slid open in the upper portion of the crypt.

'Kneel,' said Secoh sonorously, 'and behold!'

From the kneeling position Gosseyn could see the shoulders, part of the arms and chest, and the head of the man who lay inside. The face was lean and very lax, the lips slightly parted. It was the face of a man of about forty. The head was large and the face had a strangely blank look. It was a good-looking countenance, but only because of its symmetry and line of cheek and bone. It was the face of a moron. There was not even a faint resemblance to Gilbert Gosseyn.

The Sleeping God of Gorgzid was a stranger.

They arrived back at the palace in time for lunch, and at first Gosseyn did not realize that the great crisis was upon him.

There were two guests in the salon in addition to Enro, Patricia, Crang and Nirene—altogether eight people at the table. The visitors wore uniforms complete with the insignia of the rank of marshal. The conversation at the table was dominated by Enro and the two military men.

Their conversation had to do with a Board of Inquiry that had investigated what was called a revolution. Gosseyn gathered that the revolution had been successful for reasons that were still obscure. The two officers were the Board.

He watched them curiously. They both seemed, in their manners and expressions, ruthless men. Before they announced their recommendations, he decided that two such coldly intellectual individuals would inevitably solve any such problem by recommending the destruction of the rebel planets.

He glanced at Crang and saw that the Null-A detective was impassive, but that, beside him, Patricia was showing signs of agitation. He realized that there must have been mention of the Board's work before his arrival in the salon. The two of them were definitely interested in what was going on. Abruptly, Patricia broke into the conversation.

'Gentlemen,' she said sharply, 'I sincerely hope that you have not chosen the easy way out in coming to your decision.'

The two officers turned and glanced at her, and then, as of one accord, looked questioningly at Enro. The Gorgzid studied his sister's face, a faint smile on his lips.

'You may be sure,' he said suavely, 'that Marshals Rour and Ugell will have considered only the evidence.'

'Naturally,' nodded Rour. Ugell merely gazed at Patricia with his ice-blue eyes.

I want to hear the recommendations,' said Patricia curtly, 'before I make up my mind as to that.'

The faint smile remained unchanged on Enro's face. He was enjoying himself. 'I seem to remember a rumor,' he said, 'that my sister once took a special interest in the system under discussion.'