Birthright

slipped a large roll of currency across the table. “Will you do it?”

Jannis looked at the roll, then nodded. “I imagine it will have to be on one of the outworlds. They won't come to any planet of your choosing, and you certainly won't go to the Canphor system.” “The hell I won't,” said Baird. “I want them to know we mean business.” “How about Canphor III, then?” said Jannis. “That way it won't seem like a total capitulation.” “No,” said Baird firmly. “One of the Twins, VI or VII, I don't care which.” Jannis shrugged. “It's your funeral.”

But that, decided Baird after his companion had left, was where Jannis was wrong. It was the Commonwealth's funeral. Not today, not next year, perhaps not even in a century, but it would be the start.

Jannis contacted him a few days later. The Canphorites had, to his amazement, agreed to the meeting. The two Men would go to Canphor VI, where Jannis would escort Baird to a certain building and then leave him. No arrangements had been made for Baird's departure, which Jannis found distinctly ominous, but Baird readily consented to the conditions. Baird had never been to either of the Canphor Twins, and as Jannis's ship landed at a Canphor VI spaceport, he was amazed by the lack of structures to be seen. He had thought, considering the Canphorites’ long and variegated history, that both populated planets would be teeming with life and activity.

“Don't be misled,” said Jannis when Baird questioned him on this point. “Most of Canphor VI is underground. I guess they got understandably tired of rebuilding their cities after we kept razing them to the ground. Pretty much the same situation exists on Canphor VII. In fact, over the past few hundred years, property values have skyrocketed in direct relation to depth. Only the most impoverished portion of the populace lives on the surface, which actually serves a double purpose.” “And what is that?” asked Baird.

“It keeps the Commonwealth happy and ignorant. Happy, because the portion of the planet they have access to is so tranquil and obviously unequipped for violence; and ignorant, because if nothing else the surface is totally unrepresentative of the planet.” He opened the hatch of the ship and stepped down. A windowless vehicle was awaiting them. “It works by remote control,” Jannis informed Baird. “The reason for it is so that nobody will be able to see in. Less chance of an incident this way.” “How do you survive in your business?” asked Baird. “I assume you mean physically and not financially.” Jannis smiled. “I never leave the surface, and I work out of our embassy.”

They entered the vehicle, which immediately raced off across the red, barren landscape. After a few minutes it began descending at a 45-degree angle, and when it leveled out again Baird estimated that he was at least four miles beneath the surface. There followed a number of sharp turns, so many that he concluded it was being done to confuse him in case he had been trying to remember the way back, which indeed was the case. At last it stopped and the doors opened automatically, to reveal the interior of a