Birthright

many pieces on a gameboard.”

“Begging your pardon, but we areall just pieces on a gameboard. A politician is successful or unsuccessful by virtue of how well or poorly he manipulates the pieces.” “Mel, if Man is to rule the galaxy—and I'm convinced he is—he's got to do so by exhibiting leadership in those areas that truly show his worth: industry, dignity, intellect. No simple show of force will make us fit to rule; if anything, it goes to prove the point that we're not yet capable of doing so.” “That's beautiful rhetoric, Josh, and I hope you put it in your memoirs,” said Hill, “but it's a bunch of ivory-tower gobbledegook. Religion, morality, and Joshua Bellows to the contrary, Man is neither good nor bad, pure nor impure. He is simply Man, and his destiny, if he has one, is to make the most of all of his gifts, without attempting to place values upon them. If he has a notion to grasp at the stars, then it's his duty to do so in the best and most efficient way he can; and if he fails, well, at least he did his damnedest. But Man can't just spout pretty platitudes while there's anything in his universe lacking accomplishment. I've heard it said that Man is a social animal. Some deeper thinkers have concluded that he's a political animal. I've known women who swore he was a sexual animal. None of them are totally wrong, but they haven't quite got around to the truth of it. Man is acompetitive animal. Philosophers dream of utopias in which every need is cared for, and there is an inordinate amount of time for contemplation. Utopia, hell—that's madness! Man's living in utopia right now, a time filled with as many challenges as he can handle. But he can't start meeting those challenges until you give the word.” “And you say they're preparing to throw me out of office if I don't give it.”

“They don't want to do that, Josh,” said Hill. “With the magnetism you've got, they'd back any action

you took. The legislature would be much happier with you than without you but you've got to play ball with them.”

“I'm still as popular as ever in the polls,” said Bellows. “What if I force them into a showdown, make them put up or shut up?”

“You'd lose,” said Hill promptly. “Your popularity is due, in large part, to stories I've leaked to the media about how are forces are massing and how we're ready to begin reasserting ourselves. The day they find out that those are phony, you won't have to wait for the legislature; the voters'll throw you out on your ear.”

Bellows excused Hill for an hour while he attended another meeting, then summoned the gnarly adviser back to his office.

“Where would you begin?” asked the Governor bluntly. “Ah,” said Hill, smiling. “Someone else told you the same thing.” “What they told me is my business,” said Bellows. “Your business is to make suggestions.” Hill chuckled. “They must really have spelled it out for you, huh? Okay, Josh, how's this for a bloodless starter: Convert every T-pack so that it'll just translate Terran, rather than Galactic-O.” “You're crazy!” exploded Bellows. “Do you know what that would do to our commerce and trade, to say nothing of our Diplomatic Corps? No one would be able to understand a word we said!” “They'd learn,” said Hill softly. “Or better still, get rid of T-packs altogether, and make it illegal for any Man to speak Galactic. Force the other races to start playing in our ball park. We're still the most potent single military and economic entity in the galaxy; sooner or later it'll become essential to their self-interest to give in.”

“But in the intervening time we speak to nobody except Men, is that it?” said Bellows. “How much time do you think will elapse?” countered Hill. “More than two thousand worlds depend on us for medical supplies, and almost ten thousand more require produce from our agricultural planets. Now, maybe some of the others will drag their feet, but that's a hard twelve thousand worlds that will learn Terran within a month. And don't forget, this is just symbolic, simply a means of asserting our identity.”

“Consider it vetoed,” said Bellows. “It would cause too much confusion, kill half the methane-breathers we tried to communicate with, and I'll be damned if I'm going to cut off vital medical supplies to millions of beings just for the sake of making a gesture.” Hill took a deep breath. “All right, then. Instead of taking them all on at once, take on the biggest.” “Meaning?”

“Canphor VI and VII.”

“Are you seriously suggesting that I start a war with the Canphor Twins?” demanded Bellows. “That we

blow them all to hell just to get the legislature off my back?”

“I am,” said Hill. “But with reservations.” “That's a comfort. I didn't know you had reservations about anything.” “Where it concerns physical or political survival, I'm the most reserved person you know,” said Hill. “I do not suggest that we launch an attack on the Canphor Twins or any other worlds. We have our image to consider.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I suggest that we repel an attack by the Canphor Twins on Deluros VIII,” said Hill. “You would have no objection to fighting them under those conditions, would you?” “None at all,” said Bellows. “However, I don't think they're any likelier to attack than we are.” “It's a pity that I wasn't born with your looks and that deep, thoughtful, resonant voice of yours, Josh,” said Hill with a little smile. “I could have achieved godhood within my own lifetime.” “I assume you're telling me how stupid I am,” said Bellows dryly. “Correct,” said Hill. “Not that I hold it against you. That's what you've gotme for.” “I'm not exactly surewhat you're here for, but it's not to start wars for me,” said Bellows with finality. “Consider the subject closed until such time as I personally reopen it.” Hill left the Governor's office and returned to his own, where two of his aides were waiting for him. “Any luck?” asked one.

Hill shook his head. “He just doesn't realize how much trouble he's in, and he's basically too humane to do anything to alleviate the situation.” He closed his eyes. “God save us from decent and moral leaders!” he added fervently.

“What's next?'’ asked the other.

“I'm not sure,” said Hill, scratching what little remained of his once-bushy head of hair. “For Man's sake and for his, we ought to do something. The problem is that he can countermand anything I do.” “If he does, they'll kick him out and make you Governor,” said the first aide. “What's so wrong with that?”

“You're going to find this hard to believe,” said Hill, staring at him, “but I'm not totally unidealistic myself. I know what Man has to do, and a lot of it isn't going to be very pretty. We need a Governor like Josh Bellows, one who can convince us that everything we're trying to accomplish, and the means we're using, is not only acceptable but basically moral. If Josh told us to wipe out twenty sentient races tomorrow, we'd be absolutely sure it was the proper thing to do; if I ordered it, everybody would think I was a power-mad dictator with delusions of grandeur. The people need a leader they can love, respect and damned near worship. Josh fills the bill, so we've got to see to it that he's the one who actually gets the ball rolling.”

“Did it ever occur to you'” asked one of the aides, “that the reason Josh commands so much respect is

that most of what has to be done is unthinkable to him?” “The thought has crossed my mind on occasion.” Hill grimaced. “You know, it's low-down bastards like me who change history; but it's people like Josh who get the public to like it.” “I repeat: What's next?” said the second aide. “Well,” said Hill, “there's not a hell of a lot of sense trying to get Josh to knowingly take anactive role in all this. He may have some pretty outmoded scruples, but he's not dumb, and he won't willingly let himself be pushed into anything. We'll simply have to work around him at first.” “How?”

“I am not totally without power in this Administration,” Hill said softly. “Who's in command of our fleet in the Canphor system?”

“Greeley.”

“Fine.” He walked over to a recording device, picked up the microphone, and sat down. “To Admiral Greeley, 11th Fleet,” he began. “For your ears only.” He waited the customary five seconds it would take for Greeley's thumbprint to unlock the protective clacking and scrambling mechanisms. “Greetings, Admiral. This is Melvyn Hill, Communications Code...” He paused, turning to his code book. “Code 47A3T98S. In view of what I'm about to say, I'd like you to check my code and voiceprint against your computer banks so there will be no doubt in your mind as to my identity.” He waited long enough for such a check to have been run, then continued. “It has come to our attention, Admiral, that a number of pirate vessels which have been harassing our trade routes may well be doing so under the unwitting protection of Canphor VI. As a result, we have made a secret agreement with the government of Canphor VI to the effect that all nonmilitary vessels flying that world's colors will also have a special insignia prominently displayed on their starboard sides, the form of which