Birthright

over the races of the galaxy. Members of warring races, they nonetheless managed to form a bond of

mutual trust and friendship which resulted in... —Origin and History of the Sentient Races, Vol. 9

Everything was going to hell.

Castor V hadn't joined the Commonwealth, and neither had some fifty other planets that had seemed to be teetering on the brink. Not only that, but some of the frontier worlds, feeling their oats, had actually tried to throw the Commonwealth out. It hadn't worked, of course, but each act of rebellion got a little farther than the previous one before it was suppressed. Then came the real shocker. Spica VI, that huge and hallowed ship-building world, populated only by the race of Man, declared independence from the Commonwealth. The Floating Kingdom, its back to the wall, responded in the only way open to it—with might and more might. The Spicans fought to the last man, and when the brief but bloody war was over, almost two million men lay dead on the surface of the planet, a once-industrialized surface that was now and forever covered with rubble and debris. “The problem,” said Baird, “is that no one is taking the trouble to organize these damned uprisings, to coordinate them for maximum efficiency.” His companion looked across the table at him. “How do you expect any coordination?” he asked at last. “You've got a thousand alien races, plus a goodly number of Men, who have nothing in common except their enmity toward the Floating Kingdom and Deluros. They've never worked together, never trusted one another, never before fought against a common enemy. Why should they start now? Or, to put it another way, you're a Man. What Canphorite or Lodinite or Emran in its right mind would trust you?” “I see your point, Jannis,” said Baird, “and yet in the end they're going to have to trust me, just as I'm going to have to trust them.”

“Ah, but are you?” Jannis smiled.

“If I have to, I will,” said Baird grimly. “That's why I've contacted you. You're a merchant on Canphor VII. You deal with the damned creatures. Can you set up a meeting between me and one of their underground leaders?”

“I figured as much,” said Jannis. “Why Canphor? Why not some race that doesn't have a five-thousand-year history of insurrection, some race that won't be predisposed to murder you the instant you walk into the room?”

“Because the Canphor Twins are the leaders of the nonhuman races, and if we're ever going to overthrow this tyranny we're going to need their help.” “You keep talking about some mysterious ‘we,'” remarked Jannis. “Just who do you represent?” Baird's eyes narrowed. “That information is for the Canphorites,” he said at last. “I take it that I have been scrutinized and found wanting,” said Jannis dryly. “The less you know, the less trouble you'll be in if the roof comes tumbling down,” said Baird. He