Null-A Continuum (32 page)

Gosseyn did the calculation in his head and then smiled to himself. “Never mind. There is no immediate danger.” Twenty-decimal-point accuracy worked out to be about ten hours for every thousand light-years, so the time span involved was one and a half million hours, or 171 years.

The man said, “Enlighten me. Which Gilbert Gosseyn are you? The one who killed every man on the Security Council of the Interstellar League? Or the one who kidnapped the Empress Reesha, in order to whip the Imperial planets up into a war frenzy? Or the one who was spotted by long-range satellite orbiting the planet Corthid a few hours before the whole world was swallowed in the same Shadow Effect that is currently spreading throughout the space of the Core worlds, spreading faster than the speed of light, and increasing in speed?”

Gosseyn tried to sit up and found that his hands were bound behind him by electronic handcuffs, the kind that could shock or stun a prisoner upon a radio signal.

Gosseyn said, “Who are you, and how did you trace me?”

The horrid fleshless face could form no expression, but the voice betrayed a hint of condescending humor: “Come now. You are my prisoner. I ask; you answer. It's traditional.”

Gosseyn leaned back to ease the pressure on his arms. “It's not that simple. If you were an officer, if you were within your jurisdiction, we would be in a police station, not hiding here.”

“My court sits wherever I sit, and I am all my officers,” the faceless man said, his voice smooth with an
ironic, self-deprecating humor. “And yes, we are hiding. From your foes, I think, as well as mine.”

“Court?”

“I am Anslark Dzan of Glorious Dzan.”

“I don't recognize the name.”

“Prince Anslark. Anslark the Marred. Are you from some newly discovered world?”

“Yes. From Venus in the Sol System. How would you know the location and composition of my extra brain but not know my origins?”

“The space-controlling centers of the brain are located in neural ganglia just above the spine. It is a family trait of the royal house of Dzan, and my spies tell me the Predictors of Yaltera have the same structure in a stunted form. So you are not a cousin? I had been meaning to ask you how you moved my whole body from one point to another.”

Gosseyn said, “You can control electronic flows between two memorized points, but nothing more complicated than that.”

Anslark of Dzan nodded briefly.

Gosseyn estimated that the Dzan prince could form a fifteen-decimal-point similarity. Electromagnetic waves differed one to the next so little that, for all practical purposes, they were already similar to five to ten decimal points to any given spot in the universe.

Gosseyn said, “I can perform a more exact similarization than you can, on the order of what a distorter circuit can do. How did you find me?”

“Caleb the No-man sent me. We knew your destination was Petrino. Once we confirmed your identity, the man who cannot be killed, who can be anywhere in one step, my superiors decided I was the only one qualified to keep an eye on you. After that, it was just a matter of putting agents with portable distorters hidden in briefcases on every ship in every port you visited, so that I could swap places with them and be sent from ship to ship as you were sighted. How did you find me? I have
been trained by an Accolon No-man in how to avoid patterns of behavior that attract intuitive notice.”

Gosseyn said, “After we come to an agreement, I'll tell you.”

The fleshless red skull-face nodded. No expression could form in those lidless eyes, but Gosseyn sensed a wary tension in the man's neuroelectric patterns.

Gosseyn said, “Enro's people have already taken over Petrino, haven't they? You are hiding from the customs officers. Since you have both a portable distorter tuned to a planet of a distant star as well as the ability to control electric circuits around you, I am assuming the customs officers are equipped with some special technical advantage you estimate is overwhelming.”

Again there was no expression, but a hint of cautious admiration crept into Prince Anslark's voice: “You are trained in some logic system that allows you to make intuitive deductions?”

Gosseyn said, “It is not intuition but a flexible mechanism to adjust the nervous system to reality based on learned habits of multivalued, scientific thought. Your behavior does not fit into any other model.”

The man stood up. “Surely the resemblance between this system, the No-men of Accolon, and the Royal Family of Dzan cannot be coincidence. The matter bears investigating. Do you have myths on your world of a universal disaster, from which a pair of men and a pair of women survived?”

“Something like that,” admitted Gosseyn. He heard the lock of the handcuffs click open behind his back. Anslark apparently had very fine control over electric circuits in his environment. Gosseyn brought his hands in front of him and removed the remaining cuff. He asked, “Does your Royal Family have a custom of placing its royal infants in some sort of sensory-deprivation tank for an extended period?”

Anslark said, “It is no secret. We sleep for several months within that prehistoric starship which brought our
first parents to Dzan, and the electronic brain aboard—which my great-grandfather Urien Dzan had partially repaired—modifies our nervous systems. I am the last of my line. Enro's troops bombarded our Sacred Dome and destroyed the ancient machine, thinking it was a blasphemous mockery of their Crypt of the Sleeping God. How did you know?”

Gosseyn said, “My creator enforced a similar regime of electronic training on me, when I was lying in a full-grown but dormant state.”

“Count yourself lucky, friend.”

“Why?”

Anslark pointed at his own ruined features. “You have no family. No fierce competition for royal prerogatives.”

Gosseyn said, “I have a twin.”

“Would he run lightning in a brother's face for pleasure?”

“He has a larger target, and his motivations are more neurotic than that, but his crimes are basically the same as that, yes. Except he seeks to create a totalitarian state embracing every world. How long till your drug works its way out of my nervous system?”

“What is to be our agreement?” asked Anslark.

Gosseyn said curtly, “That we shall both act rationally.”

Anslark said, “Coming from you, I will trust that means what I think it does.”

Anslark stepped around behind Gosseyn. Gosseyn felt the cold sting of a needle on his neck. A moment later came a warm, slightly painful sensation, tingling in his neck muscles and the back of his skull.

“How did you find me?” Anslark reminded him.

“Prediction power. It operates by similarization of the brain pattern of the Predictor in two time-segments to negate the illusion of space-time, and allow thought-information across the gap. I have the ability of one of the visionaries of Yalerta….”

Then he stopped, for his awareness of the energy flows
in the area had returned. A clear, small emotionless voice spoke into his brain:
A second target has become aware of this unit. Direct additional circuits XX-0112 through XY-6705 to recalcitrant area … effect negative … stepping up power to secondary backups … redirect … effect negative … engaging tertiary circuits—

Robot brains were directing a pattern of mind-control force-fields into this area. Gosseyn could also sense the neuroelectric excitement of Anslark's secondary brain, like a bright, hot point of fire burning at the top of his brain stem.

Gosseyn said, “Are you aware of what the robots are saying?”

Anslark said calmly, “No. I am redirecting their electric forces into safety contact points in the ship, to ground the signal. It is only a matter of time until my defensive system is overwhelmed. Can you do anything? Get us out of here?”

Gosseyn said, “Getting out of places is my special talent.” By the time he was finished speaking, they were aboard the space-boat, which had been restored to its launch tube in the hull of the
Star of Petrine.

The vision-plate on the control board showed the great space liner was resting in a launch cradle on the planet surface, but the spaceport was an ancient one, aboveground, and the domelike fabric stretched across the many acres where ships rested was little more than a sheet of synthetic material meant to keep out the rain.

The acceleration pressed them against their couches as the space-boat shot from the side of the space liner and rocketed skyward. There was no jar as the little boat tore through the roof. The pinpoint of the Pistol Star was brighter than the sun seen from Earth, and it shined a harsh glare among the strange, gorgeous buildings of Petrino, edifices of marble and green copper. Even the tallest skyscrapers were covered with vines and yellowed with age: The overall effect was one of immense antiquity.

Anslark said, “I don't suppose there is any way to get back to my cabin? My extra faces and other equipment are there.”

Gosseyn said, “Sorry, I forgot to tell you that the moment I transmitted us here, I had the vision showing that we are about to be fired upon.”

A cylindrical machine six thousand yards long, a battlecruiser, was dropping out of the dazzling white sky. The radio on the control board clattered to life: “To unidentified space-boat, this is Petrino Civilian Air Control. Do not change velocity or heading. Prepare to be examined by non-Aristotelian robot psychologists.”

Gosseyn's extra brain detected a distortion effect as some remote unit, similar to a lie detector, attuned itself to his nervous system.

And Gosseyn was fighting to retain his sanity.

In nature, the composition of a phenomenon is known by its observed behavior: Where the behavior shows consistency, a correct abstract model can be formed for events of those types, but the abstraction is limited to those types.

In his head, Gosseyn heard the cold voice:
“Target acquired! Hypo-coded reflexes to render subject compliant to Total Loyalty directive not found. Subject is in violation of thought-conformity laws. Engaging mechanism for brain-imprint.”

He felt the mass of imprinted thought-emotions trying to force its way into his brain: a psychotic affection for the planet Petrino, combined with an infantile terror, programmed to be felt at the most basic level of the subconscious, for symbols and uniforms and slogans of the ruling party of Petrino.

Had it succeeded, it would have been a massive overload of his emotions, even if his opinions had been otherwise: a perfect mechanical method of propaganda, a direct method of hypnotic indoctrination.

The technology was not fundamentally different from the methods used to train interplanetary travelers with new languages instantly, except that it used Null-A technical methods to effect subconscious nerve-word associations.

But they were the methods of an insane Null-A. The rhythms of the robot-controlled electron tubes were trying to discourage certain nerve paths and encourage others: trying to replace a delicate system of truth-to-fact word-emotion associations with false-to-fact ones.

Instinctively, Gosseyn performed a cortical-thalamic pause.

Normally, the effect of this pause was to break the cycle of perception-emotion-reaction by which humans form their behavior-patterns and adapt them to their sense impressions. However, in this case, Gosseyn felt a searing pain, and his vision began to turn black, as intolerable nerve-pressure was brought to bear on his central nervous system.

“Target identified … nervous system of recalcitrant type … cortex-thalamic nerve pathways detected … incapacitate! … Adding additional voltage to neural signal now!”

The robot-directed web of electronic forces had reacted instantly to any conscious interference in the thalamic cycle: This was a weapon specifically designed to identify and electrocute any target with Null-A training.

The voltage jarred Gosseyn, and he could neither move nor speak, his muscles paralyzed. The joystick of the space-boat was in his hands, but his muscles were locked: The space-boat was hurling blindly through the air in low parabola, and the ground slowly swung into view while Gosseyn sat frozen at the controls.

Gosseyn tried to similarize himself to one of his memorized
spots: Nothing happened. Unable to perform the Null-A pause, Gosseyn could not break the rising tide of panic now pounding his temples. Twisted or not, X had the genius of Lavoisseur, the expertise needed to program these deadly robots with specific circuits to detect and neutralize nerve-flows in Gosseyn's extra brain.

Gosseyn remembered the comment of the Games Machine, that nerve-suppression circuits only affect what they are designed to affect. So when he tried to summon up his shadow-shape, nothing interfered.

His ability to assume a shadowy form was automatic. An immense amount of technical data, a lifetime of training, had been expertly imprinted into his mind by his far-future selves. Instinctively he used a memorization technique to hold his own body in a type of coherence, to keep it “identified” to itself even as it entered a non-identity condition with the surrounding environment.

The world around him grew blurred and foggy, though the basic shapes of objects could still be dimly seen: the shining curve of the control board, the looming figure of Anslark. There was a technique to sharpen his vision by allowing incoming photons to achieve a greater degree of similarity than the shadow-shape normally permitted, but Gosseyn dared not employ that technique yet.

“Target attunement lost … data unclear … employ increasing voltage until incapacitated target destruction is confirmed.”

The robots reacted: An electrical current of immense voltage suddenly appeared within the volume occupied by his shadow-body. Since his form was now made of matter out of similarity with normal time-space, his atoms and molecules no longer recognized or reacted to the molecular, atomic, and electronic patterns of particle behavior around him. The electrons surged through the space his body occupied, ignoring and being ignored.