Birthright

Next on his list were the Canphor Twins.

“If nothing else,” he pleaded, “don't use this noble project as a symbol of your spite for the race of Man. If you must be political, so be it. Don't pay your taxes, don't accept a human governor, don't allow the Commonwealth to keep military bases on your moons. But allow this Bureau to come to pass. It is the last best hope for the races of the galaxy.” The Canphorites jeered him out of the room. By the time he reached the insectoid world of Procyon II he had decided upon different tactics. “Your life has undoubtedly been bitter,” he told them. “I am just as disgusted and outraged at what our Navy did to you during the reign of Vestolian as you are. But you can't just withdraw from the marketplace of ideas and culture. Come to the Bureau. Prove that you're better than we are! You'll be given every opportunity to do so. Every facility will be open to you, every comfort will be provided. If you want to plot the downfall of the Commonwealth, what better place could there possibly be to do so than the Bureau, where you'll be in instant contact with other races who feel equally wronged?” The Procyons, being insectoids, could not understand why the Bureau had been created in the first place. They bore Man no malice; indeed, they had replaced their decimated population in a handful of years. They simply could not relate to the problem. Why travel to the Bureau to eat and breathe? They could do that right here.

His next stop was Domar, but he didn't even get a chance to get out of his ship. The Domarians, one of the few ESPer races in the galaxy, knew everything he was prepared to say and weren't buying any. After all, what need had a race of telepaths for close physical contact with other races? At Terrazane he felt he had the means with which to finally strike a responsive chord. “The people of Terrazane,” he said, “are known throughout the galaxy for the magnificent edifices they construct in their cities. You, of all races, must understand that a project such as the Bureau has been designed to be used. To let it stand, an unused, sterile monument to futility, would border on the criminal. Surely the Terrazanes will not boycott the Bureau.” But he was wrong again, for the Terrazanes’ racial art was nonfunctional. Huge, minutely embellished edifices covered the planet, but for no purpose other than the appreciation of the populace at large. On Aldebaran XIII the reaction of the natives against what they felt to be a structure built by Man to assuage his conscience was so violent that he needed an armed guard to escort him back to his ship. On Gamma Leporis IV, he met with a race of aquatic beings that had never been exploited by Man, had never been at war with Man, and had no reason whatsoever to feel inimical to Man. Garbed in a protective undersea suit, he used a modified T-pack to address their delegation. “I am at a loss to understand why you have withdrawn your support from the Bureau,” he told them. “We have always had an amicable relationship between our races, and since so very few races are aquatic, the potential to learn about the thousands of other sentient species is severely limited even for those of you who have journeyed to other worlds. But at the Bureau, your opportunities to increase both your knowledge and your alliances would be virtually limitless. Ample living space would be provided you, and all of your needs—medical, social, religious, even sexual—would be provided for. Surely you, who have the most to gain from the Bureau and the least reason to embarrass my race, will reconsider