by Mike Resnick
“I know your specialty is alien weapons,” Durmin continued, “but when something like this comes along ... well, it's the prize of the whole lot. That's why I've got to ask for the cannon.” Selimund looked long and hard at him, then found his gaze drawn back to the pistol. “It's a deal,” he said.
A moment later he was working meticulously over the newest treasure in his collection, polishing and shining it, completely oblivious to a galaxy that had once again found it expedient to stockpile weapons. 22: THE REBELS
...As the millennium drew to an uneasy close, Man was girding for the greatest challenge yet to his primacy in the galaxy; and, strangely enough, this challenge came not just from the alien races, but also from a number of misdirected Men as well. Among the first of the turncoats was Loran Baird, a former naval officer, who for reasons known only to himself...
—Man: Twelve Millennia of Achievement ...It was the alliance between two visionary beings, Brastillios of Canphor VII (6977-7202 G.E.) and Loran Baird of Aldebaran X (6955-7020 G.E.), that led to the first step in the downfall not just of the Monarchy, but of the whole of Man's tyrannical hold
over the races of the galaxy. Members of warring races, they nonetheless managed to form a bond of
mutual trust and friendship which resulted in... —Origin and History of the Sentient Races, Vol. 9
Everything was going to hell.
Castor V hadn't joined the Commonwealth, and neither had some fifty other planets that had seemed to be teetering on the brink. Not only that, but some of the frontier worlds, feeling their oats, had actually tried to throw the Commonwealth out. It hadn't worked, of course, but each act of rebellion got a little farther than the previous one before it was suppressed. Then came the real shocker. Spica VI, that huge and hallowed ship-building world, populated only by the race of Man, declared independence from the Commonwealth. The Floating Kingdom, its back to the wall, responded in the only way open to it—with might and more might. The Spicans fought to the last man, and when the brief but bloody war was over, almost two million men lay dead on the surface of the planet, a once-industrialized surface that was now and forever covered with rubble and debris. “The problem,” said Baird, “is that no one is taking the trouble to organize these damned uprisings, to coordinate them for maximum efficiency.” His companion looked across the table at him. “How do you expect any coordination?” he asked at last. “You've got a thousand alien races, plus a goodly number of Men, who have nothing in common except their enmity toward the Floating Kingdom and Deluros. They've never worked together, never trusted one another, never before fought against a common enemy. Why should they start now? Or, to put it another way, you're a Man. What Canphorite or Lodinite or Emran in its right mind would trust you?” “I see your point, Jannis,” said Baird, “and yet in the end they're going to have to trust me, just as I'm going to have to trust them.”
“Ah, but are you?” Jannis smiled.
“If I have to, I will,” said Baird grimly. “That's why I've contacted you. You're a merchant on Canphor VII. You deal with the damned creatures. Can you set up a meeting between me and one of their underground leaders?”
“I figured as much,” said Jannis. “Why Canphor? Why not some race that doesn't have a five-thousand-year history of insurrection, some race that won't be predisposed to murder you the instant you walk into the room?”
“Because the Canphor Twins are the leaders of the nonhuman races, and if we're ever going to overthrow this tyranny we're going to need their help.” “You keep talking about some mysterious ‘we,'” remarked Jannis. “Just who do you represent?” Baird's eyes narrowed. “That information is for the Canphorites,” he said at last. “I take it that I have been scrutinized and found wanting,” said Jannis dryly. “The less you know, the less trouble you'll be in if the roof comes tumbling down,” said Baird. He
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
large building of totally inhuman design.
“I'm not supposed to get out with you,” said Jannis. “I suppose I'll be kept here until you've finished with them, or vice versa.”
Baird nodded and stepped out. No Canphorites were around, so he walked to the only door he could find, opened it, and stepped through. He heard the door close behind him, and found himself in a small, darkened room. Standing a short distance away was a Canphorite. The being was typical of its race, all of which looked alike to Baird: tall, incredibly slender, with a large, bulbous head, small dark eyes, and a round, protruding mouth. It was humanoid in type, but very definitely inhuman. “You are Baird,” it said, the tones coming out dull and unaccented through a T-pack. “Yes,” said Baird. “And you?”
“I am Brastillios.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” said Baird. “Are you indeed?” said Brastillios.
Baird nodded. “Where are the others?”
“What others?”
“I was under the impression that I was to meet the leaders of your underground,” said Baird. “I am empowered to speak on their behalf,” said the Canphorite. “All right,” Baird said, making the best of the situ
ation. “Let's get down to business.” “And just what is the business at hand?” asked Brastillios. “I think you know, or you wouldn't be here,” said Baird. “However, if you want me to spell it out for you, I will. My business is the overthrow of the Commonwealth.” “And why should a Man wish to overthrow another Man when there are still so many non-Men in the galaxy, non-Men that your race delights in slaughtering?” “What my government does and what my race approves of are not necessarily the same thing,” said Baird.
“I wonder,” said Brastillios. “Certainly you seem to have many of the trappings of your government. You cannot speak my language nor I yours, but it is I who have the T-pack.” “I was told to bring nothing with me,” said Baird. “Nothing,” agreed Brastillios, “except the desire to meet a Canphorite. And now that you have, do you even know whether I am native to Canphor VI or Canphor VII?” “What difference does it make?” said Baird. “There are only two sides involved here. Canphor VI and
VII are on the same side, so why should I prefer one to the other?”
“A noble sentiment, and an adroit evasion,” said Brastillios. “I am native to Canphor VII, and I agree that it makes no difference. There is Man, and there is everything else.” “Correction,” said Baird. “There aresome Men, and there is everything else.” “You have not yet answered my original question,” said the Canphorite. “Why should you wish to help us?”
“Because a large body of Men finds the Commonwealth as intolerable as you do. Our economy is unstable, our culture is stagnating, our ambition has been misdirected and stifled.” “Tell me about your ambition,” said Brastillios. “Men have always hungered for distant worlds. Why should I believe that you do not hunger for mine?” “Men have better goals to strive for than the subjugation of other races,” said Baird. “It is unusual, is it not,” said the Canphorite, “that in all of Man's history he has not yet set his sights on some of those better goals?”
“I'm not here to apologize for the past,” said Baird. “My concern is the future. You want to overthrow the Floating Kingdom. So do I. You can't do it alone. Neither can I. But together, we just might cause a few ripples.”
“And after these ripples have caused a wave that washes the Commonwealth away, what are your intentions then?” asked Brastillios.
“I might well ask you the same question,” said Baird. “If the Commonwealth crumbles, Man will be virtually powerless in a galaxy where he is vastly outnumbered by a populace that probably will have a few scores to settle with him.”
“The concept of punishment is alien to most races’ way of thinking. I think Man has very little to fear from us once the Commonwealth is destroyed,” lied Brastillios. “Similarly, I can assure you that the Men I represent are not the type to turn on their allies,” lied Baird. “Whowill they turn on?” asked the Canphorite. “Man always turns on someone.” “Governing the race of Man will be time-consuming enough,” said Baird. “We've already got a pretty big chunk of the galaxy. We don't need any more.” “And who will rule this philanthropic new order? You?” “The thought has crossed my mind.”
“It is an unrealistic thought,” said Brastillios. “We can strike a painful blow to the Commonwealth, but it will nonetheless outlive both you and myself by centuries, probably millennia.” “Then there's no time to waste,” said Baird. “Shall we lay our cards on the table?”
“Even in translation I do not understand this idiomatic expression.”
“It means that our meeting has reached that point where we must be frank and open with each other,” said Baird. “And since you still seem somewhat dubious, I'll begin. Through various contacts I have in the Navy, I can present our side with a force of approximately twelve million men, about two million ships, and a considerable arsenal. No single unit will amount to more than five percent of the whole. They are scattered around the galaxy, but this may prove to be an advantage, as they will thus prevent the Commonwealth from massing its forces. Now, how many planets do you control or can you influence?” “I find it interesting that you speak in terms of numbers of beings, while I am expected to reply in terms of planets,” said Brastillios.
“I am speaking in both cases in terms of strategic units,” Baird pointed out. “I fully realize, as you must, that neither my humans nor your allied races can militarily overthrow the Commonwealth as things stand now. But a well-orchestrated series of attacks and rebellions may give other Men and aliens the idea that it can be done.”
“Why would other Men come over to your side?” asked Brastillios. “Why would they not defend their primacy to the death?”
“Men side with winners,” said Baird. “And they wouldn't view it as surrendering their primacy, but as overthrowing an unpopular government. So I repeat: How many worlds can you influence?” “Perhaps three thousand, perhaps more,” said Brastillios. “There can be no terms such as ‘perhaps’ involved,” said Baird. “We've got to coordinate this entire operation down to the last detail. Each rebellion, both in the Navy and among the nonhuman worlds, must appear spontaneous, and they all must be strategically mapped to cause the most difficulty and confusion to the Navy. Nor must they all be military actions; we don't want the first ten planets that rebel to be blown to kingdom come—it would discourage the rest of them. Now, what kind of weaponry do you have at your disposal?”
The Canphorite listed the contents of his arsenal and made some educated guesses at what the other alien worlds possessed. Baird was surprised to find them so well armed, but said nothing. After all, it just made his job that much easier.
“Your history books will not speak too highly of what you have done today,” remarked Brastillios, when the broad lines of the strategy had been agreed upon. “If we win, I'll be the author of those books,” said Baird. “And if we lose, someone else will overthrow the Commonwealth sometime in the future, in which case I'll be considered a visionary born before his time. If we take a smashing defeat, what will the books say about you?” “They have been written for millennia,” said Brastillios. “We have only been awaiting the proper time to publish them.”
For just a fleeting instant Baird thought he might have bitten off more than he could chew. Then he shrugged. The aliens wouldn't cause any problem. They'd be in the vanguard of the fighting for the next few centuries, and if they still were feeling their oats after the remnants of the Commonwealth had decimated their ranks ... well, Man was not totally without experience in dealing with alien races.
Brastillios stared hard at the Man. He, too, had his doubts about this alliance. Men, after all, were Men.
Then he, too, shrugged. This temporary partnership was a necessary evil, no more, no less. Sooner or later there would be a redress of power in the galaxy, and if some Men wished to bring it about sooner while helping to destroy others of their race, why should he object to it? They made arrangements for a series of future meetings at which every minute detail would be hashed out. Then, for the first time in galactic history, Man and alien shook hands in mutual friendship and brotherhood.
Both of them had their fingers crossed. SEVENTEENTH MILLENNIUM: ANARCHY
23: THE ARCHEOLOGISTS
...Thus, as Man's empire dwindled, no central governmental body was formed among the other races, and a galaxy-wide state of anarchy came into being.... It was during the Seventeenth Millennium (G.E.) that the race of Man, no longer possessed of its once-mighty military and economic power, turned toward more peaceful pursuits. There was a general reawakening of interest in the species’ racial roots, and Earth and the early colonies were at last thoroughly explored and examined by scores of archaeologists. One of the most successful of these was Breece, a female from Belthar III, whose published works are still read today.... —Origin and History of the Sentient Races, Vol. 9 Breece stood on Earth and wondered where the tens and hundreds of centuries had gone. Earth was not deserted—exactly; and the race of Man was not on the verge of extinction—exactly. But oh, she reflected, how the mighty have fallen! So high had Man ascen
ded that it had taken him many long millennia to lose every last vestige of his primacy, his power, his property. In fact, some tiny portions of the latter still remained: the Deluros system, a series of ghost worlds, all shining and efficient and unused; Sirius V, whose frontiers had retrogressed until it now housed only one vast city; Caliban, a still-living, still-functioning anachronism, a mechanism that would wait for all eternity to report the movements of a Navy that had been dead and forgotten for centuries; the Floating Kingdom, its imperial palaces converted into factories, its motive power no longer operational, doomed to float aimlessly from system to system until some star finally reached out and dragged it to its bosom; the Capellan and Denebian colonies; some four thousand scattered worlds; and ancient old Earth itself. Over the ages, after the fall of the Commonwealth—or the Monarchy, as it had come to be known—race after race began reasserting itself, taking back some or all of what Man had appropriated. Many of them didn't really care about Man or what he had done to or for them, but there were those—the Canphorites, the Lodinites, the Elmrans, and a hundred others—who cared passionately enough to make up for the lethargy of the other races. Bit by bit, with the patience of Job and the skill of Grath, they had begun pushing Man back, forcing him into planetary alcoves, denying him access to a world here, a system there, nationalizing a factory on this world, destroying a laboratory or college on that world.
