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

instance.”
    I frowned. “Why’s that?”
    “Because the sun never sets upon a warrior’s service. How many do you think would ask to return home if you were to offer them the privilege?”
    I considered this and quickly had the answer.
    “None of them,” I said. “That’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it? They would all opt to stay on, to serve me until death.”
    “Naturally. To do anything else would embarrass the herd.”
    Their words made sense. I knew the Centaurs—hell, I’d learned their language and customs at our first contact. I should have known better. First off, they tended to do everything as a group. They didn’t decide as individuals. They were more like a flock of birds, a herd of antelope or a school of fish, moving as a single mass. If one would opt to stay in Star Force and serve honorably to the death, they all would.
    “Hmm…” I said thoughtfully, touching my face with a gloved hand. “All right then. I’ve made my decision. Those Centaur troops I have with me are to be garrisoned here on your worlds. I’m stationing them here permanently as a home guard. They’re to keep their equipment and organization, and they will still be part of Star Force, but they will be under local command and committed to local defense.”
    They chewed that one over for a few seconds. Finally, the voice came back online. “That seems like an honorable solution for all parties. We will be delighted to be reunited with our heroic herd-mates.”
    “Can you provide me with fresh troops for my fleet? I wish to train more as I have the first group.”
    “They will be provided! We’ll have contests and races this very day. Only our most vigorous will meet the challenge!”
    I smiled. I had them where I wanted them now. We’d found a way for honor to be satisfied and for me to get what I wanted. I’d have fresh troops and they’d have their people back. Centaurs didn’t live as long as humans did. By the time a buck was twenty, he was broken down with age. I needed ten-year olds, a fresh herd of them. The arrangement would be a win all the way around.
    By the following day, we lowered transports and unloaded the troops. They carried with them a very special gift. It was one of the Nano factories. A new model, with a raw input system and programming station even a Centaur could work with.
    They were blown away by the value of the gift.
    “We cannot accept this!” they puffed. “The value is immeasurable.”
    “Yeah, but you gave me yours years ago. I’m returning what I borrowed. I have many such units, and don’t need this one at the moment.”
    I was lying, naturally. There was never a time that I couldn’t use a Nano factory. They produced every sophisticated piece of equipment I had. Without them, there would be no generators, spaceships, beam weapons or even nano-clothing. But I wanted them to take it, so I pretended it was a cast-off unit.
    After a few gushing, half-hour speeches, they finally took custody of the system and began making excited plans about building ships with it. I felt a pang as they said this. The Centaurs would now be able to transport their people back and forth between the three cooler worlds in this system with ease. Civilian traffic would be flying through Eden once again.
    Why did this fact give me a pang of regret? Because of a streak of dark greed I’d begun to suspect was in every human’s heart. They’d given us three worlds to colonize—but there were two more they’d barely touched. Why should I pass them to a population of friendly goats? Was that the honorable thing to do or a stupid mistake? I decided I would let history judge me on this one.
    Once we’d made the exchanges, and I prepared to board my ship again, something unexpected happened. A local Council of Elders came out to meet me. There were no less than a hundred and thirty of them.
    I sighed. I’d almost made it back aboard the ship without listening to another speech.
    I pasted on a smile