Birthright

“Maybe we can reason with them,” suggested the third woman without much enthusiasm.

“You mean tell them we're sorry and that we can't be blamed for what our ancestors did?” asked the first woman.

“Hell!” snapped the man. “We're not sorry, and we're proud of what's gone before us! I just wish we could have lived during the Republic, back when we were just flexing our muscles for the first time.” “I prefer the Monarchy,” said the second woman. “You heard those Kragans threatening us in Galactic, didn't you? InGalactic! There was a time when the only language they'd have known was Terran. A Kragan who spoke to a Man in any other tongue would have been killed. And the slower the better,” she added with a glint of fire in her eyes.

“This is ridiculous,” said the third woman. “We live now, and if we want to keep living, we've got to do something about it pretty damned quick.” “What would you suggest?” asked the man. “You want to shoot it out with two hundred Kragans? Or triggerthat damned thing"—he gestured to the device—"and blow the whole goddamned planet to hell?” “It's better than letting them take us without a fight,” said the first woman. “Five years ago it would have been,” said the man. “Even three months ago, before they got that colony in the Delphini System. But now we're the last. If we die, Man is through. He's over. Forever. We've got a responsibility.”

“To whom?” asked the second woman. “We're the only four people we owe anything to. Nobody else counts. And I say that we fight.”

“You're not talking about fighting,” said the man. “When you fight, somebody wins.” “So you just want to sit here and wait until we starve to death, is that it?” said the second woman. “No, of course not,” said the man. “All I'm saying is that whatever else happens, we have to stay alive.” He paced the cave restlessly, then walked to the tiny entrance. “Look, there's nothing on this world we can use, that anyone can use. Maybe I can persuade them to leave us here, to post a guard ship to make sure we'll never go back into space.”

“If the positions were reversed, could a Kragan convince you of it?” asked the first woman. “Could anyone?” echoed the third woman. “No,” admitted the man. “But...”

“But what?”

“But I'm a Man,” he said. “They're Kragans.” “That's the whole problem,” said the first woman. “What's the Kragan truce sign?” asked the man.