Alfred Van Vogt - Null–A Three

Silence. They were staring.

It was no time to stop. Gosseyn pressed on: “When I look at you, Mr. Leader, and your colleagues, who are sitting here in this room with you, I see a human shape that appears to have been modified from the original standard human like myself. You are mutants. It would seem, then, that it was your ancestors who were caught in that cloud of malignant energies.

“And, of course,” he finished, “by the defensive mechanism, well-known in psychology, you thereupon concluded that what had happened made you superior; and here you are calling yourself the people who matter.” The leader was staring upward, seemingly at the wall behind Gosseyn. And the other Troogs were staring at him.

Abruptly, then—action! A Troog, whose body was easily the largest at the table, stood up—almost leaped up, actually (his chair scraped noisily)—and said in an almost yelling voice:

“Veen, you are no longer qualified to be leader. So I, Yona, appoint myself leader in your place!”

There was no sound from the alien, who had so suddenly been identified by name. He seemed to sink down in his chair; and, what was sensational, did not argue with the evaluation of him by his fellow Troog. Apparently, it was unwise, in this super-competitive society, to be surprised or caught off guard.

So Gilbert Gosseyn Three was now an individual who had been instrumental in overthrowing a Troog leader. There would be repercussions; and, in such a logical society, it would be interesting to see what they were.

Sitting there, Gosseyn had a sudden surge of hope. At once, he addressed the new leader, while the alien was still standing there in his moment of triumph.

“I’m now deducing,” Gosseyn said, “that this entire dinner, and what happened here, has been broadcast to the crew and officers of your ship. And so they are now aware that… (brief hesitation)—Yona is now the appointed leader of this battleship.”

If it were possible, the little mouth of the huge man tightened in what, in a human being, would have been a belligerent firming of the jaw section.

“That is true.” The alien’s tone had a challenging tone as if he dared anyone to criticize.

Gosseyn leaned back in his chair once more. This time it was not a relaxing action—he realized. The thought that the new leader’s verification brought was too huge.

At this instant—that was the sudden awareness—all the way down the line of subordinate leadership, and their waiting-to-pounce aides, Troogs would be thinking what they , as individuals, should do to fit into the new situation.

The astonishing thing, then was, he was so busy trying to analyze what might be happening, that other intruding thoughts did not penetrate until, suddenly, a directed message came on the mental yelling intensity:

“… Mr. Gosseyn Three—” It was the mental voice of Gosseyn Two—“I’ve been getting your thoughts for at least thirty seconds, now; and you’re still so concentrated on your own situation that you haven’t received mine… Wake up! We’re connected again?”

In that dim lit earth-style dining room Gosseyn Three straightened in his chair. He was conscious of relief but, at the same time, did not lose momentum in what was happening in front of him.

He directed one, quick, mental message to his alter ego: “Bear with me, brother!”

To Yona, who was still standing, he said, “I hope that you will accept the offer I have made, of total cooperation.”

The big man looked at him grimly. “We have your promise that you will do what you can to help us get back to our home galaxy?”

“One hundred percent cooperation,” said Gosseyn. “Do you have any explanation”—it was an accusing tone, still—“of how all this happened?”

It was obvious from the aggressiveness of the question that the new Troog leader was clearly trying to maintain his momentum of control.

Let him! There was nothing to be gained by opposing him.

Gosseyn said cautiously, “Sir, whatever I can do—you give the orders.”

. . I’m really sucking up—” he thought. But his belief was that he had done all the attacking that was necessary on Leader Veen; and what he needed now was to benefit from the transfer of power to the self-appointed Yona.

Somewhere off to one side of his mind, he was also wondering if anything else in his favor had already been done somewhere down the chain of Troog command: he presumed that all that had resulted would not immediately be apparent Yona seemed to stiffen. His tone seemed even grimmer, as he said, “Obviously, cooperation involves trust on both sides. So—” accusingly—“what do you expect to gain in this situation?”

What bothered Gosseyn about the question was the instant impression it imparted of being a parrying for time; as if the new leader did not quite know exactly what to do next. How to answer. What program to propose.

And the Troog leadership system did not allow for delays or inadequacies. Yona needed help—now!

“In the long run,” Gosseyn said glibly, “I hope for personal freedom, with good will on your side, and continuing communication.”

He broke off: “But right now I would like to have you call a a special meeting that I can talk to. Since I want to explain the exact situation—as you requested a few minutes ago, the audience should include your top officers and best scientists. And I would also like to have present my human associates, whom—I gather—you have aboard.”

He continued, “Naturally, you will, during such a talk, exercise all the necessary security to ensure that no one is endangered.

“And—” he concluded hopefully—“it is my belief that, after my explanations, we will all be in a position to go on to make final decisions, and take final actions.”

As, once more, he leaned back in his chair, his feeling was that for the time being, at least, he had saved the entire situation—for Yona, for himself, for the captive human beings, and for all the down-the-line sub-leaders.

Was it possible that a General Semanticist could survive in the incredible Troog competitive psychological environment?

It was as strange a lecture meeting as, surely, any earth-man had ever attended: eighteen guests—eight of them Troogs. And the other ten, besides himself, were human beings who had played key roles in this entire affair of inter-galactic transport: Enro, Leej, the Crangs, the Prescotts, plus Breemeg and the three scientists from the Dzan battleship.

Interesting that even those persons present, who were familiar with General Semantics, believed that they were now going to hear new General Semantics’ data: information or analysis that transcended what they normally would have considered to be adequate knowledge of the subject.

What astonished Gosseyn Three, as he stood there on the platform of that small auditorium in front of the unique gathering, was his belief that their expectation was correct.

He had, not exactly new data, but new awareness… And he actually parted his lips to begin his account when—a hand and arm raised up in the second row.

It was Enro the Red. The big man’s hair, as usual, looked only partly combed, and his face was twisted into the now familiar, cynical smile.

Standing there, Gosseyn had a feeling that General Semantics would not be a factor in what the other was about to say; but surprisingly it was.

Enro began: “I’ve been getting second-hand information on this system of thinking; and so let’s see if you and I can resolve the issue of who marries the mother of the emperor of the Dzan by reasoning the matter in terms of General Semantics.