Free The Dead Sun (Star Force Series) by B. V. Larson Page B

our personal relationship. She’d always accepted me as her commander whereas Sandra never really had.
    We watched the stars glide slowly by outside and felt the cold of space seeping inside the seams of the ship. It wasn’t built entirely of smart metals, being an old Imperial vessel. It had an old-fashioned solid hull. The joints of these ships seemed to leak more than our Nanotech ships did. As a result, some chambers were hotter or colder than others, depending on orientation and random design flaws.
    The view was romantic, but we didn’t make love or even kiss. We just stared, both of us wondering what tomorrow might hold.
     
    * * *
     
    We had three scheduled stops in the Eden sy stem. The first was at the homeworld of the Centaurs. They were in a fine mood and glad to see me back in their hometown.
    “Colonel Riggs,” they said, “we’re indescribably pleased to greet you again. The grass will grow greener, and the skies will stretch to the infinite horizon in your honor.”
    When I talked to the Centaurs I usually found myself talking, not with a single representative, but rather with a collective council of some kind. In this case, the council had hailed me from their coldest planet. A world of clear skies and steep, snowcapped mountains, they were most at home there.
    “People of the grass,” I said enthusiastically. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to be back. Nowhere else in the universe is the air so clear and the water so clean as it is upon your planet. I’m sorry I ever left this system.”
    They liked this, and went into a gush of pleasantries about the grass, the sky and honor—always honor. Usually, this sort of thing left me impatient, but not this time. I was smiling throughout the lengthy speech. I let them blow on and on like the very wind they were praising. At last, however, I decided it was time to rein them in.
    “Let’s get down to business, shall we?” I asked.
    “Business? Trading? There is little honor in such concepts.”
    They sounded disappointed that I wasn’t letting them tell me more about their fields, droppings and bounding litters of young. I was sorry to be the party-pooper, but I wanted to move on to my next port of call in the morning.
    “I apologize,” I said, “I do not like to be rude, but I must be brief. I wish to offer you supplies and technological systems.”
    “And in return?”
    I cleared my throat. “I’m hoping we might ask for a new levy of troops.”
    “You ask much, but your wishes will be accommodated. How many of our furred millions will you require this time, friend?”
    I shook my head in disbelief. “Don’t you even wish to know why I want more of your troops?”
    “To ask such a question is to offend you. We have no wish to do that. If someday your actions are dishonorable, we’ll question you then.”
    I understood that. They trusted me—until I screwed up. After that, I figured it might be hard to regain their trust. I had a lot of capital with these people. After all, I’d saved their race from extinction and given them their homeworld back. Further, I’d continued chasing the Macros out of their system for years.
    Still, I somehow felt a little guilty when dealing with them. They were so trusting and so grateful. It made me want to make sure I never did screw them—not even accidentally.
    “I’ve brought back thousands of your people. They are now veterans. I’m returning them all, releasing them from my service.”
    “Did they not please you?”
    “On the contrary, they did. But I don’t wish to abuse their loyalty. I want to reward them for their service by giving them leave and taking on fresh troops. Every Centaur that wants to go home will be dropped off today.”
    “Have you offered them this privilege yet, Colonel Riggs?”
    “No, not yet. I wanted to consult with you, the Centaur Council, about replacements first.”
    “It is well that you did so, for they will most certainly disappoint you in this