Birthright

And that meant that there was more to this than met the eye. Much more.

For one thing, it meant that there was more alien trouble brewing. For another, it meant that whoever Durmin had gotten the weapons from was pretty well supplied with firepower, or they'd never have let so many pieces go, no matter what price Durmin was willing to pay. And that implied that, far from being weaponless, the aliens had some seven millennia of firearms to draw upon, and that most if not all of them were in working order.

Which led to other thoughts. Such as: Why did Durmin want the Doradusian cannon? It wasn't worth anywhere near as much as the hand weapons—at least, not to a collector. But to a gunrunner whose clientele needed some really heavy firepower, it was probably worth hundreds of pistols. And the two pistols that Durmin wanted in addition to the cannon? His commission for effecting the trade. Not a bad commission, either, decided Selimund; they were worth about 35,000 credits for the pair. One by one Selimund began disassembling the other weapons. He couldn't tell about the laser pistols, but seven of the eleven explosive pistols showed traces of recent use. Probably these were rejects, he decided, weapons that were too inefficient to be used by the rebels. But rejects or not, they were beautiful, masterpieces of the ancient weaponers’ art. What a display they'd make at the museum! Except for the Republic laser pistol; that one would stay in his office, hermetically sealed in a transparent showcase. Possibly he'd add a little bronze plaque at its base, describing its use and manufacture.

He shook his head vigorously. That was enough pipedreaming. The first order of business was to find out where these rebel forces were, what their strength was, and when they planned to mobilize. This would then be reported to the Floating Kingdom, and if all went well, it would be good for a handsome raise in salary.

The problem was that he didn't need any more money. What he needed was things to spend it on. Things like weapons from the Republic and Democracy.... He reassembled all the weapons, called the guards, and went to bed, a troubled man. He woke up feeling no better.

He skipped breakfast and went back to his office and looked at the weapons again, touching each one lovingly, regretfully. They were so damned beautiful! He had already considered arresting Durmin on the spot and confiscating the weapons as evidence. But they'd have to be turned over to the court, and that would be the last he'd ever see of them. He had even toyed with assassinating the dealer and his aides, but decided against it on strictly practical grounds. No, he'd have to follow the thing through. Collection or no collection, his first loyalty lay with the Commonwealth.

Not that the Commonwealth would really need his help or his loyalty. After all, what could one planet—even a well-armed one—do against the combined might of almost two million worlds? It wouldn't amount to much more than a policing action. Of course, the cannon could do an enormous amount of damage, but that could be taken care of by the simple expedient of destroying the trigger mechanism before turning it over to Durmin. In all likelihood any race that had been able to recondition the firearms before him would be able to repair the cannon, but there was always the chance that such an intricate mechanism was beyond their abilities. At least, he liked to think so.