Birthright

“I'm afraid not,” said Miss Moore. “I refer to you only insofar as you are a member of the Republic.

And,” she added thoughtfully, “because your consummate skill at your job has created the problem.” “I'm afraid I don't follow you at all, Miss Moore,” said Ngana, running his fingers through his wiry black hair.

“If you were aware of what I was going to say, I wouldn't be here speaking to you,” said Agatha Moore rather primly.

“I apologize,” said Ngana. “Please continue.” “Mr. Ngana, I am no psychologist, and I don't imagine you are either. However, it shouldn't take a master of that field to realize what's going on.” Ngana looked at Renyan again, convinced that this was about to become some kind of elaborate joke. “To continue,” said Miss Moore, “let me ask you exactly what your specialty is, Mr. Ngana.” “My job is to create favorable economic conditions among alien civilizations and to open their planets up for trade with the Republic's merchants.” “In other words, you develop undeveloped planets and give them all the economic benefits that accrue to the Republic's member worlds.”

“That is essentially correct,” said Ngana. “Are you aware of the GGP for the past twelve months?” “1,600.4 trillion credits or thereabouts,” said Ngana. “1,600.369 to be precise,” said Miss Moore. “And are you aware of what portion of that product is due directly to the output of nonhuman worlds and populations?” “No, I am not.”

“988.321 trillion credits,” said Miss Moore. “Does that imply something to you?” “Only that we've done a hell of a good job incorporating them into the economy,'’ said Ngana. “That's your side of the coin,” said Miss Moore. “They, on the other hand, seem to feel that they're economic slaves.'’

“Meaning?”

“Meaning they feel that if they're to supply such a large proportion of the Republic's capital, they want a share of the profits. Or, to be more precise, they want immediate enfranchisement.” “The other shoe,” said Ngana glumly.

“What?” asked Renyan.