Birthright

As night fell, the Governor of Deluros VIII sat alone in his semi-darkened office, his hands clasped in

front of him, staring intently at his fingers. He considered resigning, but realized that it wouldn't have any effect on the tide of events. He even considered having Hill make a full public confession, but knew even as the thought crossed his mind that the populace would approve of Hill's actions. Bellows was an essentially decent man. He didn't want to destroy anyone. At heart he believed that Man would emerge triumphant in the galactic scheme of things by virtue of his own endeavors. Furthermore, Man was still immensely outnumbered by the other races. The course Hill had charted would be so perilous, so fraught with danger at any misstep ... Man would have to divide and conquer on a scale never before imagined. He'd have to be quiet about it, too; would have to accomplish most of his plan before the galaxy awoke to what was happening, or everything would come down on his head, hard. And yet, if Man was capable of pulling it off, didn't he deserve to? After all, this wasn't exactly survival of the fittest so much as ascendancy of the fittest. The races of the galaxy would continue to function, and under Man's leadership they would very likely function all the more efficiently. Or was he just rationalizing? Man was capable of such splendid achievements, such generosity to other races, why did he have to have this aggressive, darker side of his nature? Or was it a dark side at all? Was Man, as Hill had said, merely making the most of every single one of his attributes, including this one?

Bellows reached for the intercom button that would summon the press. As they filed into his office, he made his decision—or rather, he thought with a bemused detachment, he acknowledged the decision that had long since been made for him. For while he had many other qualities—goodness, judgment, integrity—all had failed him in this crisis, and he was left with the foremost quality that any politician possesses: survival.

“Gentlemen,” he began, staring unblinking at them with his clear blue eyes, “it has come to my attention that a fleet of military ships has just left Canphor VI for the purpose of perpetrating a heinous sneak attack on Deluros VIII. Neither we nor any other world housing members of the race of Man will tolerate or yield to such an unprovoked action. Therefore, I have instructed the 7th, 9th, 11th, and 18th fleets to take the following steps...”

SIXTH MILLENNIUM: OLIGARCHY

11: THE ADMINISTRATORS

(No mention of the Administrators, as such, can be found inMan: Twelve Millennia of Achievement or inOrigin and History of the Sentient Races. ) The Democracy did not die rapidly, nor did Man particularly want it to. From the instant that the fabled Joshua Bellows repulsed an abortive attack on Deluros VIII by the Canphor Twins and followed up by winning a quick series of battles and putting the entire Canphor system under martial law, the handwriting had been on the wall. For the second time in galactic history, the Cartography complex at distant Caliban became the most important single factor in Man's expansion, but this time it was a more mature Man, a Man who knew the bitter aftertaste of expanding too rapidly, who began gathering his empire about him. This was no hit-or-miss proposition, this expansion. There was no settling or winning of strategic systems and then moving parsecs away to new challenges. Man was more thorough this time, more methodical, more grimly efficient. Radiating out in all directions simultaneously from Deluros VIII, Earth, and Sirius V,