Null–A Three

CHAPTER 25

It was a slightly flabbergasted Gosseyn who poured in a tiny portion of cream, stirred it, and took the first sip of what tasted like genuine coffee.

In picking up the cup, he saw that there were half a dozen sugar cubes at the edge of the saucer; but the Gosseyn bodies did not use sugar in coffee; so the cubes remained where they were.

It was evidently another instance of a self-appointed Troog studying human needs, and even coming up with coffee. It was the kind of thoroughness which assured that no other Troog down the line of command would be taking over his job.

That was probably also why they had brought the human youth aboard. To help on the finer details.

In such small matters, and in relation to science, the system had its points. But otherwise—

He put his cup down, and gazed at the leader, who, he saw, was sipping liquid from the glass that had been set for him. Gosseyn shook his head at the alien.

“I find it difficult,” he said, “to visualize such a leadership system in relation to important matters. Apparently, back in your own galaxy, the self-appointed super-leader evidently maintains a state of continuous warfare against the Dzan humans.”

Another one of those pauses. All the other Troog eyes stared at their leader expectantly.

Gosseyn waited, as one shoulder of the big body below that head made a movement that could have been described as a shrug. The small mouth said:

“Our Great One,” said the ship leader, “ordered the lesser race to submit itself to his commands.”

Pause. Silence. Finally: “When was this ultimatum given?” Gosseyn asked.

The huge eyes stared at him; and there was a small note of surprise from the voice that issued from the little mouth: “No one has ever asked that question before.”

There were so many implications in the reply that Gosseyn almost literally had to control consciously the wild way his thoughts leaped in every direction. Finally, with a gulp: “Was the ultimatum already in force when you were born?”

“Y-yes!” The hesitation this time was followed by sounds from other Troogs.

He was getting answers, so Gosseyn did not waste time.

“We, here in the Milky Way galaxy, were surprised to discover, when we went out into space, that human beings of various color combinations, inhabited most of the habitable planets—everywhere!

“Recently—” he continued—“we learned that we are descendants of long ago immigrants from your galaxy. The story was that some malignant energy field was moving in upon that galaxy. At the time millions of small spacecraft were constructed. Each contained two men and two women in a state of suspended animation and with life support systems for the long journey from your galaxy to this one.

“Now, with the arrival of the Dzan battleship and your battleship, we deduce that those persons who stayed behind, because there were not enough spacecraft to transport everybody—that, I repeat, those who remained were not destroyed, as was believed would happen.”

He drew a deep breath, and concluded, “Have you any explanation for the fact that, apparently, two human races—the Troogs and those who are like us here—survived the threatening catastrophe?”

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.