Alfred Van Vogt - Null–A Three

There was a pause, and then—of all things—a grin creased that youthful face. “I guess—” the boy said—“you’ve got some assumptions about me wanting to be back on that stupid ship with all those suck-ups.”

“More like, maybe you want to be back with your mother,” Gosseyn answered.

But even as he spoke, he was silently adjusting to Enin’s analysis. It was not wrong after all those boyish complaints; but he had to admit that the thought—belief in his mind had been that, to his Imperial Majesty of Dzan, a place like earth, with no one kowtowing was, well, crumby. And crumby in at least one of its meanings implied that whoever felt that way didn’t want to be here.

As that thought completed, Enin spoke again: “Things happen around you,” he said, “and you’re not a sissy. Just imagine—you let yourself be tied up back there, and you got rid of those gun carriers…” Pause. The boy’s eyes grew wider. “Hey, I forgot to ask. Where did you put those guys?”

Gosseyn smiled. Grimly. “On that ice world, where we were.”

“Boy!” Another pause. “You don’t think they’ll freeze?”

Gosseyn said, “They had on pretty regular clothes, and there’s only about a mile to go to that building; so I’m not worried.”

He thought for a moment. Then: “It’s the price I’m charging them for not being aware of the assumptions by which they operate.”

He concluded: “You remember, I gave them all a chance to think about it, and none of them bothered.” There was, if it were possible for a boy of twelve to have such an expression, a pensive look in Enin’s face. “Yeah,” he said then, “yeah.” He added, “It’s hard to picture us just sitting here while they re-build this place. Is there anything else coming up?”

It was a good question. The feeling inside Gosseyn of something probing at him, was stronger. And it was definitely time to determine what, if anything, was causing such a strange sensation in his head.

The phone rang again, instants after that purpose was born.

Enin’s voice came from off to one side: “Looks like another company w ants the job.”

Gosseyn, who was heading toward the phone, made no verbal reply. But he did have the thought-answer that, on this high government level, there would probably be no bidding for specific construction projects.

Any call having to do with rebuilding would have to be about another aspect of the task. And, of course, the truth was there would be many aspects.

However, moments later, as he spoke the same question—as before—into the receiver, there was a far more significant difference in the reply. The man’s voice at the other end of the line had a harsh quality, as it said, “Let me just make it very clear: if you don’t get off those premises by the end of this day, you’ll get hurt. That institute of stupidity is not going to be rebuilt!”

Gosseyn, who had automatically noted that the message, and the voice, were being recorded—automatically—by the cabinet machine, was able to recover from the unexpected threat in time to say, “Be sure to dress warmly from this moment on!”

There was actually a pause at the other end of the line. And then the same voice but with a baffled instead of a threatening tone, said, “What kind of nonsense is that?”

Bang! Down went the receiver at the other end.

“… On that call,” Gosseyn analyzed moments later, “I am inclined to deduce that it is the result of our caretaker advising someone who is willing to pay him for the information.”

Enin frowned. “I don’t get the assumption,” he said.

Gosseyn could not restrain a smile at the use of the General Semantics term—which was not entirely applicable. But all he said was, “My reasoning is that groups, or individuals, against re-educating the public would have a very inexpensive source of information about any projected activity on these premises, if they bribed the caretaker.”

“Yeah!” The boy spoke his agreement almost absently. He stood there with his lips drawn tight, as if in deep thought. Then he nodded. And said, “Now, what do we do?”

It was not a question that Gosseyn was able to answer immediately. His head was, figuratively, whirling.

There was accordingly no question. The most important event in his life at the moment was that sensation of something probing at his entire nervous system.

When, moments later, he was able to get the attention of his alter ego, Gosseyn Two said mentally across those vast distances: “I’ve been aware of your sensations, and they’re similar to what we get from that alien ship when our defenses are momentarily penetrated. Your problem is you’re out there, unprotected.”

Because of the enormous interstellar barrier between him and the enemy, it was a startling analysis. But it was surely the most likely possibility. The alien ship’s efforts at mental control could not reach through the electronic defenses of the Dzan vessel or of Enro’s warships.

But, somehow, those incredibly accurate instruments had retained contact with Gosseyn Three. And, though they were probably not aware of it, he was, for them, the most important human being: the individual who, inadvertently, was responsible for their entire ship, with all its personnel, being transmitted from their own galaxy to this one.

But they suspected something. Because, though he was multi-light-years distant from them, they were electronically aware of him, and, with their refined instruments, were somehow trying to grab him.

The instant thought in his mind, now that he was considering it, was: why not let them succeed?

He asked the question of Gosseyn Two: “… What would I do, if I went aboard their ship?”

“Well—” the distant thought of Gosseyn Two was accompanied by a grim smile—“one thing that would, at very least, be delayed would be the re-building of the Institute of General Semantics on earth.”

There was at least one answer for that. Gosseyn stated it mentally: “When Dan Lyttle gets off duty from his hotel job at midnight, he’s coming over here to sleep.” He concluded that message, “I think I can safely leave him in charge if I go aboard the alien ship—which I really think I should do, provided I first get rid of a potential trouble maker here on earth.”

The answer seemed to be a resigned acceptance: “You’re a braver man than I am. What about the boy?” Gosseyn had been intent. Now, he glanced around. And was slightly startled to realize that Enin had disappeared… That strange look in his face; he’s up to something—

Mentally, he said, “I think I can leave him here with Dan temporarily. I doubt if he should go back aboard at this time.” He smiled. “His General Semantics reeducation is not yet completed. And right now I’d better sign off, and see where he went…”

—A big man in his shirt sleeves. That was the source of the threatening voice.

—Gosseyn’s swift search for Enin had taken him down the long, grubby hallway to the caretaker’s quarters. And there was that unworthy on the floor, babbling information to a boy who had—it developed—“burned” him several times before the reality penetrated that only a confession would save him from the special ability of this demon kid…

The name that finally came from him—Gorrold—turned out to be an individual of Blayney’s list of top two hundred cursing back room supporters.

And Gosseyn, who had thereupon gone straight to the man’s office, now stood slightly baffled, gazing at the chunky Gorrold body and insolent face. Because it would be wrong to twenty-decimal a person., so flimsily dressed, to that frozen world… back there.

As he thought of other possibilities, Gosseyn spoke glibly, “President Blayney asked me to talk to you. Perhaps, we could go somewhere, and have lunch, or a drink?”