After five days, with a soft impact, the pod dropped back into four-space.

I turned on my window. I was rotating slowly.

The sun of the Silver Ghosts is in the constellation of Sagittarius. Now it slid past my window, huge and pale. I could see stars through its smoky limb. Something came crawling close around that limb, a point of unbearable blue. It dragged a misty wave out of the sun.

I knew the story of the Ghosts. That blue thing was the main sun’s twin. It was a pulsar; it sprayed gusts of heavy particles across the sky six hundred times a second. Over a billion years that unending particle torching had boiled away the main star’s flesh.

The intrasystem drive cut in with a dull roar, a kick in the small of my back.

Then the planet of the Silver Ghosts floated into view.

I heard myself swearing under my breath. It was a world dipped in chrome, reflecting the Universe.

I was flying over a pool of stars. Towards the edge of the pool the stars crowded together, some smeared into twinkling arcs, and the blanched sun sprawled across one pole. As I descended my own image was like a second astronaut, drive blazing, rising from the pool to meet me.

Now I saw what looked like the skeleton of a moon, floating around the limb of the world. I directed monitors toward it. “Wyman. What do you make of that?”

Wyman’s voice crackled out of the inseparability link. “That’s where they built their ship to the lithium-7 event. They hollowed out their moon and used its mass to boost them on their way.”

“Wyman… I hate to tell you this, but they’ve gone already.”

“I know.” He sounded smug. “Don’t worry about it. I told you, we can beat them. If we need to.”

I continued to fall. The pod began speaking to the Ghosts’ landing control systems. At last the perfection of the planet congealed into graininess, and I fell amongst silvered clouds. The landscape under the clouds was dark: I passed like a firefly, lighting up cities and oceans.

Under the Ghosts’ control I landed in a sweep, bumping.

I rested for a moment in the darkness. Then—

I heard music. The ground throbbed with a bass harmonization that made the pod walls sing. It was as if I could hear the heart of the frozen planet.

I lit an omnidirectional lamp.

Mercury droplets glistened on a black velvet landscape. I felt as if I were brooding over the lights of a tiny city. There were highlights on the horizon: I saw a forest of globes and half-globes anchored by cables. Necklaces swooped between the globes, frosted with frozen air…

When their sun decayed the only source of heat available to the Ghost biosphere was the planet’s geothermal energy. So the Ghosts turned themselves and their fellow creatures into compact, silvered spheres, each body barely begrudging an erg to the cold outside.

Finally clouds of mirrored life-forms rolled upwards. The treacherous sky was locked out… but every stray photon of the planet’s internal heat was trapped.

“I don’t get it, Michael,” Wyman said. “If they’re so short of heat why aren’t they all jet-black?”

“Because perfect absorbers of heat are perfect emitters as well,” I said. “High school physics, Wyman. While perfect reflectors are also the best heat containers. See?”

“…Yeah. I think so.”

“And anyway, who cares about the why of it? Wyman, it’s… beautiful.”

“I think you’ve got a visitor.”

A five-foot bauble had separated from the forest and now came flying over the sequined field. In its mirrored epidermis I could see my own spectral face. Taped to that hide was a standard translator box. A similar box was fixed to the pod floor; now it crackled to life. “You are Dr. Michael Luce. I understand you represent a Wyman, of Earth. You are welcome here,” said the Silver Ghost. “I work with the Sink Ambassador’s office.”

“The Sink?” I whispered.

“The Heat Sink, Luce. The sky. I am Wyman. Thank you for meeting us. Do you know what I wish to discuss?”

“Of course. Our respective expeditions to the lithium site.” The truncated spheroid bobbed, as if amused. “We can make an educated guess about what you seek to achieve here, Mr. Wyman. What we do not know yet is the price you’ll ask.”

Wyman laughed respectfully.

I felt bewildered. “Sorry to butt in,” I said, “but what are you talking about? We’re here to discuss a pooling of resources. Aren’t we? So that humans and Ghosts end up sharing—”

The Ghost interrupted gently. “Dr. Luce, your employer is hoping that we will offer to buy him out. You see, Wyman’s motivation is the exploitation of human technology for personal profit. If he proceeds with your expedition he has the chance of unknown profit at high risk. However, a sell-out now would give him a fat profit at no further risk.”

Wyman said nothing.

“But,” I said, “a sell-out would give the Ghosts exclusive access to the lithium knowledge. All that creation science you told me about, Wyman… I mean no offense,” I said to the Ghost, “but this seems a betrayal of our race.”

“I doubt that is a factor in his calculation, Doctor,” said the Ghost.

I laughed dryly. “Sounds like they know you too well, Wyman.”

“So what’s your answer?” Wyman growled.

“I’m afraid you have nothing to sell, Mr. Wyman. Our vessel will arrive at the lithium-7 site in…” A hiss from the translator box. “Fourteen standard days.”

“See this ship? It will be there in ten.”

The Ghost was swelling and subsiding; highlights moved hypnotically over its flesh. “Powered by your supersymmetry drive. We are not excited by the possibility that it will work—”

“How can you say that?” I snapped, my pride obscurely wounded. “Have you investigated it?”

“We have no need to, Doctor. Our ship has a drive based on Xeelee principles. Hence it will work.”

“Oh, I see. If the Xeelee haven’t discovered something, it’s not there to be discovered. Right? Well, at least this shows mankind isn’t alone in suffering a fracture of the imagination, Wyman.”

The Ghost, softly breathing vacuum, said nothing.

“We humans aren’t so complacent,” snapped Wyman. “The Xeelee aren’t omnipotent. That’s why we’ll have the edge over the likes of you in the end.”

“A convincing display of patriotism,” said the Ghost smoothly.

“Yeah, that’s a bit rich, Wyman.”

“You’re so damn holy, Luce. Let me tell you, the Ghost’s right. This trip is risky. It’s stretched me. Unless you come up with the goods I might have trouble paying your fee. Chew on that, holy man.”

“Dr. Luce, I urge you not to throw away your life on this venture.” The Ghost’s calm was terrifying.

There was a moment of silence. Suddenly this world of mirrors seemed a large and strange place, and my own troubled eyes stared out of the Ghost’s hide.

“Come on, Luce,” said Wyman. “We’ve finished our business. Let’s waste no more time here.”

My drive splashed light over the chrome-plated landscape. I kept my eyes on the Ghost until it was lost in a blanket of sparkles.

I soared out of the gravity well of the Ghost world.

“Strap in.”

“Disappointed, Wyman?”

“Shut up and do as I say.”

The drive cut out smoothly, leaving me weightless. The control screens flickered as they reconfigured. Thumps and bangs rattled the hull; I watched my intrasystem and hyperdrive packs drift away, straps dangling.

The pod was metamorphosing around me.

I locked myself into a webbing of elasticated straps, fumbling at buckles with shaking fingers. There was a taste of copper in my throat.

“Do you understand what’s happening?” Wyman demanded. “I’m stripping down the pod. Every surplus ounce will cost me time.”

“Just get on with it.”

Panels blew out from the black casing fixed to the base of the pod; a monitor showed me the jeweled guts of the Susy drive.