“First, that the sectors of representation be redivided in the most favorable way. The ancient word for it was gerrymandering. This, plus a few rule changes in electoral procedures, will secure political power for us indefinitely even if all the nonhumans in the galaxy are given the vote tomorrow. “Second, that no assimilated world will be enfranchised without paying a modest fee. The figure I propose is thirty-three percent of its Gross Planetary Product for a period of twenty years. “Third, that representation be based on a planetary ratio, rather than a racial ratio. Thus, Man would be represented by almost ten thousand planets and colonies; no other race would have more than two dozen.”
“They'll scream bloody murder on that one,” said one of the subordinates. “Let ‘em. It'll take them fifty years to knock it down; that's fifty more years we've bought for Man. “Fourth, that all military forces be placed under the rule of Man.” “They'll knock that one down, too,” said the subordinate. “Legally, yes,'’ said Ngana. “But what human commander is going to turn his fleet over to an alien simply because an alien-dominated government tells him to? “Fifth, and last, that a census be taken prior to enfranchisement. That'll buy us another twenty years or so.”
The proposals were written up and submitted to Renyan, who, with the aid of his legal staff, worded them subtly, diplomatically, and legally. They were then sent to the Secretary of the Republic, who eventually gave them his stamp of approval and had them made into law. The aliens weren't happy about it, but it was better than nothing, and one by one, world by world, they agreed to the terms. Which, decided Ngana, made a considerable amount of sense; not being enfranchised, they hardly had the power to object.
Weeks later he was summoned to Renyan's office, where once again he met Agatha Moore, now in
charge of the newly formed Commission of Alien Rights. A brief discussion of minor problems followed, after which Renyan broke open a bottle of his finest liqueur, and passed glasses around. “To Man,” he said, raising his glass, “who may not have come out of all this smelling like a rose, but who came out on top all the same.”
“Do you really think so, Mr. Renyan?” asked Agatha Moore. “Absolutely,” said Renyan expansively. “In one fell swoop we've added twenty percent to the Republic's annual income, nipped what amounted to an insurrection in the bud, satisfied if not delighted our fellow races, and secured Man's political power for the foreseeable future.” “And what do you think, Mr. Ngana?” she asked. “I think Man has had it,” he replied bluntly. "What?"demanded Renyan.
“Oh, not tomorrow, or even a century from now. I bought us quite a bit of time,” said Ngana. “But the handwriting is on the wall. We expanded too far too fast, tried to do too much too soon. In a matter of four or five hundred more years we'll have run out of stepping blocks to throw at the other races and we'll be out in the cold. I've secured us enough military might so that we'll survive. In fact, we'll do more than survive; we'll thrive and prosper. What we will not do is rule the galaxy with an iron hand. Not yet, anyway. The first chapter in Man's galactic history is coming to an end. The best we can do is consolidate what we've got and try to hang onto it for a few millennia; then we'll be ready to move forward again.”
“You sound as if we're about to enter a galactic Dark Age,” scoffed Renyan. “No,” said Ngana. “But our first Golden Age is going to get rather tarnished in the years ahead. Am I correct, Miss Moore?”
“Absolutely,” said Agatha Moore.
“Well, I'll be damned!” snapped Renyan. “You make it sound as if you sold us out!” “Not at all,” said Ngana. “I simply postponed the inevitable for as long as I could, and got us the best bargain I could manage. The problem was a fault inherent in our basic dream of Empire ... and make no mistake about it: Empire is what we were dreaming of. To control a world, you must control its economy, but for a world to have an economy it must be enlightened enough to ultimately desire fair payment for its labors. They happened to pick this point in history to demand that payment. “If it will make you feel any better, Man will continue to be the most potent and powerful single race in the galaxy. But a millennium or so from now, he will stand alone and apart from a galaxy that will be more or less united against him, or at least a galaxy with goals considerably different from his. Then Man will begin the second stage of his destiny. The first was to overcome the obstacles of Nature, and he succeeded with consummate ease. The next step will be to overcome the intelligent races of the galaxy, some of them a by-product of Nature, some bastard stepchildren of an illegitimate union between Man and Nature, for many of them would not have had their annoying drives and ambitions without our
guidance and example. I'll be surprised if Man accomplishes that step as easily as he took the first one,
but if he's to be the true master of the galaxy he'll have to do it sooner or later.” “Probably later,” said Agatha Moore.
“Don't count us out too soon,” said Ngana. “And now, if you will excuse me, I'm afraid I must return from the remote future to the problems of the here and now. The natives of Pinot VIII don't seem to give too much of a damn for the value of a credit these days, and since I'm still on salary, I imagine I'll have to look into the matter.”
And, so saying, the man who had extended the life of the Republic while simultaneously signing its death warrant scurried back to his office, thoroughly enmeshed in his newest problem. The future would have to take care of itself; as for the present, he had work to do. THIRD MILLENNIUM: DEMOCRACY
6: THE DIPLOMATS
...It soon became apparent that the Democracy had taken on the proportion of a Frankenstein monster unleashed by Man upon himself. Almost every galactic office of influence was held by nonhuman races, and Man found himself dealing from a position of weakness heretofore unknown to him. To retain what political and economic power still remained, the diplomats took on new powers and functions, becoming not merely ambassadors but actual policy makers, as in the case of... —Man: Twelve Millennia of Achievement ...Never one to take setbacks lightly, even those that occurred as a result of a galaxy-wide enfranchisement and the subsequent democratic restructuring, Man soon developed his Diplomatic Corps. Ostensibly they were ambassadors of goodwill whose sole purpose was to make new allies and iron out misunderstandings with old ones, but in actuality... —Origin and History of the Sentient Races, Vol. 8
Eleven hundred years, reflected Hermione Chatham-Smythe, was a long time to be without glory. She looked at one of the viewing screens as her ship sped through space, and a thousand million stars blurred into one huge sparkling curtain. Some of those stars Man had lost, others he still held. But he hungered for all of them, hungered so greatly that he could almost taste them. The empty, gnawing lust was not new. Man had felt it before, had probably been born with it. And like a strong young giant, he had stalked across the galaxy, grasping at all within his reach. But in his youthful eagerness, he had grabbed more than his hand could hold, and bit by bit it began slipping away. Where once he had held twelve thousand worlds in his hand and reached for more, now he possessed a mere nine hundred, and had been seeking, for fifty generations, only to regain what had formerly been his. The worlds were valuable in and of themselves, but were even more valuable as a symbol, a testament to Man's primacy.