The Dead Sun(Star Force Series #9)

-7-



When we finally arrived in the Eden System, I felt like I’d come home again at last. I immediately headed to the ship’s tiny observatory and gazed out the frosted window, mesmerized by the local star and the shimmering planets that circled her.

I remembered wanting to leave Eden and head home to Earth. In retrospect, that seemed insane to me. How could I have pined away for Earth when all this natural beauty awaited me here, circling a perfectly stable yellow sun? I chided myself for not having visited for so long.


The Eden System was made up of six habitable worlds that circled a lone star many light years from Earth. There were actually seven habitable worlds, if you included the homeworld of the Blues. But that was a gas giant, and as only the Blues could survive there, it didn’t count in my book.

Such lovely worlds…they were like jewels floating in space. Eden-8 was probably my favorite. It was the coolest of the human colony-worlds. I’d built my sanctuary there, Shadowguard. It was a castle-like structure, and it clung to the tallest peak on the planet, the only spot where natural snow fell regularly.

I felt a sudden yearning to visit Shadowguard again. Once I had the feeling, I couldn’t shake it. Inexorably, my thoughts moved from Shadowguard to thoughts of Sandra, my dead girlfriend. She’d been my companion through many years and adventures. We’d been happy on Eden-8 if a little restless and homesick.

“A penny for your thoughts,” said a quiet voice behind me.

I jumped a little. I hadn’t heard Jasmine come into the chamber.

“I haven’t held a penny in my hands for years,” I said, smiling at her.

“Well, tell me what you’re thinking about anyway.”

“Right now, I’m thinking we were crazy to ever leave Eden. What is it about us humans that causes us to take a good thing for granted? To become restless and bored when we have it too good? We just have to go out into the wilderness and stir up some trouble.”

She laughed quietly. “You should know. You’re the very best at stirring things up.”

I nodded and returned to the view. She was right about that. I had a knack for finding trouble wherever it hid and whacking it with a stick.

“Why are we out here, Kyle? Really?”

I glanced back at her for a moment. I thought about Marvin’s plan, and my face darkened. “We’re about to whack another wasp’s nest, I think.”

“Why not go home then?” she asked, coming near and clasping my arm. Her touch was as gentle as that of a butterfly alighting on my artificially toughened skin.

“Maybe we should, but I think it’s time we learned what our adversary is planning. If we wait any longer, they might be ready.”

“Who? And ready for what?”

“The machines—our first enemy. Our real enemy.”

“Do we absolutely have to mess with them again? Can’t we just leave them alone? Perhaps they won’t come again. Maybe they never will. Maybe their minds are caught in some kind of endless loop.”

I shook my head and sighed. “No. They’re building up. They’re preparing a surprise for us. If we do nothing, they will have the initiative when the time comes. They’ll be ready, we won’t. I don’t want to play their game. I want to force them to play ours.”

Her hands gripped my elbow, but she didn’t argue further. I liked that about Jasmine. She wasn’t a fighter—at least not in 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 system. 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 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 and greeted each furry goat with the help of a translation box. After a half-hour, Marvin came out of the lander to find out what was taking so damned long.

It wasn’t his best move. To these people, he wasn’t a friendly face. He was a machine—a nightmarish one at that. He had tentacles whipping around and cameras panning and zooming like a swarm of bees around his primary brainbox.

As one, the delegation of Centaurs froze and lifted their horned heads. Their eyes tracked the robot as he glided toward me.

“Colonel Riggs, we believe you are under attack,” one of them said.

I glanced back and spotted Marvin.

“Sorry,” I said, “That’s a friendly machine. He’s not dangerous.”

“Is it intelligent?”

I looked Marvin over. He looked agitated, but curious all the same.

“Yes,” I said, “it is, after a fashion.”

“Then, by definition, it is not friendly. Do not be fooled as we once were.”

“This machine is different. It was not made by the Macros or the Nanos.”

“Where did it come from, then? The Great Airless Ocean?”

“You mean space? No, not exactly. He sort of built himself. But his mind—his mind was created by you guys.”

The Centaurs bleated amongst themselves for a minute or so after that. Heads heaved and tails flipped. I’m not an expert at reading Centaur body-language, but I knew they were upset.

“Marvin, did I say something wrong?” I asked quietly.

“You insulted them, Colonel,” he said brightly.

“I don’t see how—” I began, but then they turned back to me.

“We have misjudged you. Clearly, you have made a new alliance with the machines. We must ask that you release all of our troops from your service, and we will return the duplication machine you gave to us. We will not be so cheaply bought. Our droppings would be more—”

“Hold on! Hold on!” I said, throwing up my hands.

They seemed to find this gesture threatening, so they lowered their horns and backed away from me. This was going from bad to worse.

“Let me explain,” I said. “I will attempt to return this matter to balance. The sky is endless and the rivers divide our lands, but the grass is everywhere.”

I had no idea what that meant, but I’d heard a Centaur captain say something like that to stop a feud between his troops once.

The Centaurs seemed to calm down. “What you say is indisputable. We will listen out of loyalty and honor.”

“Right. It went like this…” I explained to them how Marvin had come about. Originally, he’d been a download from the Centaurs. He was a massive data-dump, a mind of immeasurable size. I’d always wondered where the Centaurs had come up with the technology to build such a thing. Maybe today I’d learn the truth.

When I finished with my story, the Centaurs weren’t impressed. “We’ve called out to our brothers using our far-reaching cries.”

I nodded. “Far-reaching cries” is what they called packet radio.

“No such transmission was made by our peoples. We tried to send something—but it was immeasurably smaller. Nothing like this abomination against life could possibly have been created by a simple translation device. You have been deceived—or, by the skies, you are seeking to deceive us.”

That wasn’t the end of their little speech, naturally. They went on and on, complaining about the lack of honor in the universe and rivers that ran befouled with another clan’s urine.

While they complained, I opened a private channel to Marvin. “When I give you the signal,” I told him quietly. “You’re going to perform a shutdown.”

“What signal, Colonel Riggs? I’m not familiar with any such pre-arranged protocol. Perhaps we should meet in private and discuss this matter without the presence of these primitive aliens.”

“If you don’t play dead when I give you the cue, I’ll remove every privilege I’ve ever granted you. I swear, I’ll find those secret pools in the engine rooms you’re always playing with and dump them out.”

“That would be vandalism and murder, Colonel. The microbiotic colonies—”

“They’re unauthorized, that’s why you hid them. Are you going to cooperate or not?”

“I will absolutely do so. But may I state that threats are unnecessary? Compliance is my natural first instinct. I will—”


“No it isn’t, but revenge is mine. I’ll dump them into space, Marvin. They’ll be a block of ice five minutes from now if you don’t fake death extremely well.”

“—again, totally unnecessary. I find that—”

“Stop transmitting, Marvin. You’re done.”

I cut the channel and stood up, raising my hand to stop the ongoing litany of complaints from the Centaur delegation. They shuffled from hoof to hoof skittishly.

“I’ve heard enough. I’ve decided that I have been deceived. I thank you for having brought this matter to my attention. Today, you have revealed to me a traitor in our midst. I will resolve this matter immediately.”

So saying, I strode purposefully toward Marvin. He did a great job of looking alarmed. Every camera he had watched me advance, and he scuttled back a few steps.

“I trusted this machine because I believed you sent him to me. I now understand no machine can be trusted in this manner. They’re incapable of honor, and they have no fur.”

“Your statements are a sequence of non sequiturs,” Marvin complained.

“Shut up and shut down, steel devil!” I shouted, and I sprang on Marvin’s back. Obediently, Marvin went limp. He’d surmised correctly that this must have been the signal I’d been talking about.

“What has happened to the machine?” asked the Centaurs, circling around warily.

I ripped a tentacle off and waved it at the herd. I threw it into their midst, with the camera still attached. They leapt away as if a snake had landed in the grass at their feet. Perhaps, in a way, it had.

“I’ve shut it down, and I’m now going to disassemble this monster.”

A hailing signal beeped on my com-link. I opened it with a stealthy tap.

“Colonel Riggs, I must protest. You said nothing about disassembly.”

“Play dead, Marvin,” I whispered. “You brought this on yourself.”

“I don’t see how—”

“You could have stayed on the damned ship!”

I closed the channel and proceeded to strip every tentacle from the robot and kicked the brainbox repeatedly, denting the sides. I knew that unless I ruptured it, Marvin would survive. He could rebuild external damage in a few hours, as long as it didn’t affect his neural chains. He wasn’t going to be happy, but I was having a little fun, I have to admit.

The Centaurs, for their part, grew increasingly bold. By the end, they joined in, urinating and scatting on the prone, motionless robot.

I could only wonder if curse words were looping around inside his artificial mind.