Birthright

him to erect defenses, mental or otherwise, against us.”

“About how many people do you destroy?” asked Rojers. “We bring in about a million a year to each lab center,” said Herban. “There are far more, but most of them are eliminated from further consideration at lower levels. We just get the stinkers. Of that million, we'll return about eight hundred thousand intact, and another hundred and eighty thousand sterilized. As for the other twenty thousand ... well, we potentially save the galaxy a million times every half century or so.'’

“Save it from what?” said Rojers disgustedly. “We don't save itfrom anything,” said Herban very slowly, very seriously. “We save itfor something: for Man. Don't look so morally outraged, boy. I know you're thinking about all the poor innocent supermen who have gone to their deaths down here, all those fine talents who could have made Paradise happen right here and now, and maybe they could have. But I think of three trillion Men who aren't about to give up their birthright to anyone, including their progeny.” “And what about the incubators?” demanded Rojers. “What about all those tiny lives that we create and snuff out every day?”

“They serve their purpose,” answered Herban. “And their purpose is only partially to train you fellers and further develop the subscience of parthenogenesis.” “Oh?” Rojers was still suspicious.

“Absolutely. The talents we deal with down here are very rare sports, even those that might possibly reproduce their traits. But if you ever find a genetic method of unlocking that seventy percent, the human race will happily advance as a whole. It's just that no member of it is going to let his neighbor move up ahead of him.”

“But we haven't found a way to do that in four thousand years!” “And you may not for another four thousand,” agreed Herban. “But it's worth trying. And, in the meantime, Man isn't doing all that badly with his cunning, his sticks, and his stones, is he?” He arose abruptly. “I'll leave you here to think about what I've said; I'll be back in a few hours.” Herban stopped at the doorway and turned to Rojers. “You now have the power to expose a secret that's been kept for quite a few centuries. So consider all aspects of it very carefully.” He left, and the panel slid shut behind him.

Rojers sat and thought. He considered the revelations of the day logically, philosophically, practically, idealistically, morally, pragmatically. Having done so, he frowned and thought some more. When Herban returned for him, he rose silently and followed the Chief of Biochemistry back up to his own level. As they were approaching the incubator room, a brash young man representing the newstapes of a distant system walked up and asked for an interview. “I'm a little busy now,” said Herban, “but I'm sure Dr. Rojers would be happy to spend a little time talking to you.”