In an odd sort of way, he was loyal to the United States. After all, if this not-empire hadn’t taken him in, Atvar would have given him a very hard time. And Yeager was a friend, even if he was a Big Ugly. But those weren’t the main reasons he’d kept quiet about that business. His main concern was that he wouldn’t get the reward he most desired: a return to the society of the Race. After all, his own kind had done the same sort of thing with a Tosevite hatchling. How could they condemn the Americans without condemning themselves at the same time? His driver walked into the kitchen. “I greet you, Shiplord,” he said casually. “Looks as if the sun is finally coming out.” “You knew!” Straha said angrily. “You knew all along, and you said not a thing—not a single, solitary thing.” Had the Big Ugly asked what he was talking about, Straha thought he would have taken a bite out of him. But his driver didn’t bother affecting innocence. “I was following the orders of my superiors, Shiplord.
