Alfred van Vogt: The Players of Null-A

The cart rounded a clump of trees that ornamented a central portion of the grounds, and they came abruptly within sight of a skycar. Several men in black, priestly uniforms and one gorgeously arrayed individual stood in the grass beside the plane, and watched the approach of the cart.

The work priest leaned back in agitation, and nudged Ashargin with the blunt end of his whip, a hurriedly brutal gesture. He said hastily, 'Down on your face. It's Yeladji himself, Watcher of the Crypt of the Sleeping God.'

Gosseyn felt a violent jerk. He flipped over, and crashed to the bottom of the cart. He was lying there, dazed, as it slowly penetrated to him that the muscles of Ashargin had obeyed the command with automatic speed. The shock of that was still running its course when a strong, resonant voice said:

'Koorn, have the Prince Ashargin enter the plane, and consider yourself dismissed. The prince will not be returning to the work camp.'

Once more, the obedience of Ashargin was on an all-out basis. His sense blurred. His limbs moved convulsively. Gosseyn recalled collapsing into a seat. And then the skycar began to move.

It was all as fast as that.

Where was he being taken? It was the first thought that came when he could think again. Gradually, the process of sitting relaxed Ashargin's tensed muscles. Gosseyn made the Null-A cortical-thalamic pause, and felt 'his' body loosen even more. His eyes came into focus, and he saw that the plane was well off the ground, and climbing up over the snowcapped peak beyond the temple of the Sleeping God.

His mind poised at that point like a bird arrested in mid-flight. Sleeping God? He had a vague memory of other 'facts' Ashargin had heard. The Sleeping God apparently lay inside a translucent case in the inner chamber of the dome. Only the priests were ever allowed to look inside the case of the body itself, and then only during initiation, once in each individual's life-time.

Ashargin's memory reached that far. And Gosseyn had as much as he wanted. It was a typical variation of a pagan religion. Earth had had many such, and the details didn't matter. His mind leaped on to the vastly more important reality of his situation.

Obviously, this was a turning point in the career of Ashargin. Gosseyn looked around him with a gathering awareness of the possibilities of what was here. Three black uniformed priests, one at the control—and Yeladji. The Watcher of the Crypt, was a plumpish man. His clothes, which had seemed so dazzling, resolved on closer inspection into a black uniform over which was draped a gold and silver cloak.

The examination ended. Yeladji was number two priest in the Gorgzid hierarchy, second only to Secoh, religious overlord of the planet on which Enro had been born. But his rank and his role in all this meant nothing to Gilbert Gosseyn. He seemed a distinctly minor character in galactic affairs.

Gosseyn glanced out of the window; there were still mountains below. In the act of glancing down, he realized for the first time that the clothes he had on were not normal for Ashargin, the farm laborer. He was wearing an officer's dress uniform of the Greatest Empire—gold-braided trousers and pull-over coat with jeweled staff, the like of which Ashargin had not seen since he was fourteen, and that was eleven years before.

A general! The greatness of the rank startled Gosseyn. His thoughts grew clearer, sharper. There must be some very important reason why the Follower had put him here at this turning point in the career of the Ashargin heir—without his extra brain and helpless in a body that was controlled by an unintegrated nervous system.

If it was a temporary state, then it was an opportunity to observe a facet of galactic life such as might never have come his way normally. If, on the other hand, escape from this trap depended on his personal efforts, then his role was even clearer. Train Ashargin. Train him at top speed by Null-A methods. Only in that way could he ever hope to dominate his unique environment—in possession of a body not his own.

Gosseyn drew a deep breath. He felt amazingly better. He had made his decision; made it with determination and with a reasonably full knowledge of the limitations of his position.

Time and events might add new facts to his purpose, but so long as he was imprisoned in Ashargin's nervous system, that training must be first in all his plans. It shouldn't be too hard.

The passive way that Ashargin accepted the flight fooled him. He leaned across the aisle toward Yeladji.

'Most noble Lord Watcher, where am I being taken?’

The assistant head priest turned in surprise. 'Why, to Enro. Where else?' he said.

Gosseyn had intended to watch the journey, but his ability to do so ended at that moment. Ashargin's body seemed to melt into a formless jelly. His vision blurred into the myopic blindness of terror.

The jar of the plane landing shocked him back to a semblance of normalcy. On trembling legs, he clambered out of the plane, and saw that they had landed on the roof of a building.

Eagerly, Gosseyn looked around. It seemed important that he get a picture of his surroundings. He realized he was out of luck. The nearest edge of the roof was too far away. Reluctantly, he let the three young priests direct him towards a staircase that led down. He caught a glimpse of a mountain far to his left—thirty, forty miles away. Was that

the mountain beyond which lay the temple? It must be, for he could see no corresponding mountain range anywhere else.

He walked with his escort down three broad flights of stairs, and then along a bright corridor. They paused before an ornate door. The lesser priests stepped back. Yeladji came slowly forward, his blue eyes glittering.

'You will go in alone, Ashargin,' he said. 'Your duties are simple. Every morning, exactly at this hour—eight o'clock, Gorgzid city time—you will present yourself at this door, and enter without knocking.'

He hesitated, seemed to consider his next words, and then went on with a prim note in his voice:

'It shall never be any concern of yours what his excellency is doing when you come upon him, and this applies even if there is a lady in the room. To such incidents you literally pay no attention. Once inside, you will place yourself completely at his disposal. This does not mean that you will necessarily be required to do menial work, but if the honor of performing some personal service for his excellency is requested of you, you will do it instantly.'

The positivity of command went out of his manner. He grimaced as if in pain, and then smiled graciously. It was a lordly gesture of condescension intermixed with a slight anxiety, as if all this that had happened was unexpected. And there was even the suggestion that the Watcher of the Crypt regretted certain actions which he had taken against Ashargin as a matter of discipline. He said:

'As I understand it, we now part company, you and I, Ashargin. You have been brought up with a strict regard for your rank, and the great role which is now thrust upon you. It is part of our creed that the first duty of man to the Sleeping God is that he learn humility. At times you may have wondered if perhaps your burden was not too great, but now you can see for yourself that it was all for the best. As a parting admonition, I want you to remember one thing: From time immemorial it has been the custom of new princes such as Enro to exterminate rival royal houses root, stock and branch. But you are still alive. That alone should make you grateful to the great man who governs the largest empire in all time and space.'

Once more, a pause. Gosseyn had time to wonder why Enro had left Ashargin alive; time to realize that this cynical priest was actually trying to make him feel grateful, and then:

That is all,' said Yeladji. 'Now, enter!'