Birthright

“Did it ever occur to you'” asked one of the aides, “that the reason Josh commands so much respect is

that most of what has to be done is unthinkable to him?” “The thought has crossed my mind on occasion.” Hill grimaced. “You know, it's low-down bastards like me who change history; but it's people like Josh who get the public to like it.” “I repeat: What's next?” said the second aide. “Well,” said Hill, “there's not a hell of a lot of sense trying to get Josh to knowingly take anactive role in all this. He may have some pretty outmoded scruples, but he's not dumb, and he won't willingly let himself be pushed into anything. We'll simply have to work around him at first.” “How?”

“I am not totally without power in this Administration,” Hill said softly. “Who's in command of our fleet in the Canphor system?”

“Greeley.”

“Fine.” He walked over to a recording device, picked up the microphone, and sat down. “To Admiral Greeley, 11th Fleet,” he began. “For your ears only.” He waited the customary five seconds it would take for Greeley's thumbprint to unlock the protective clacking and scrambling mechanisms. “Greetings, Admiral. This is Melvyn Hill, Communications Code...” He paused, turning to his code book. “Code 47A3T98S. In view of what I'm about to say, I'd like you to check my code and voiceprint against your computer banks so there will be no doubt in your mind as to my identity.” He waited long enough for such a check to have been run, then continued. “It has come to our attention, Admiral, that a number of pirate vessels which have been harassing our trade routes may well be doing so under the unwitting protection of Canphor VI. As a result, we have made a secret agreement with the government of Canphor VI to the effect that all nonmilitary vessels flying that world's colors will also have a special insignia prominently displayed on their starboard sides, the form of which is"—he looked down at some of his scribbling on a scratch pad and randomly chose a design—"an octagon within a circle. Any nonmilitary ship not carrying such an emblem is likely to be a pirate vessel. Your duty will be to demolish the first three such ships you encounter, then report directly to me. Under no circumstance is this to be discussed over subspace radio waves of any length, as we fear some of our communications may be monitored. Also, no more than three vessels are to be destroyed, as this preliminary act is merely to show any and all concerned parties that our vessels are no longer to be considered fair game. An all-out campaign will be mapped later. Good luck.” He turned off the device and tossed the recording to one of his aides.

“Take this to Greeley personally,” he said. “Don't leave until he's got it in his hands.” He turned to his remaining aide. “From this point forward, all alien correspondence to leave this office will be in Terran.” “What if the boss says no?”

“He's got a pretty big planet to run,” said Hill. “I don't think he'll bother reading anything that comes out of here. If he does, just play dumb and refer him to me.” This done, Hill settled down, went about his business, and waited for a report from Canphor VI. In less than a week it came in: