Pirius Blue rubbed his nose, a gesture Red always found irritating. He said without emotion, “Are you serious? Are you suggesting that you allow a Silver Ghost to fly on a human combat mission?”

Red stared him down. “I felt the same, remember.” He had told Blue about his experiences on Pluto, how he had felt when first confronted by a Ghost. “The mission is more important than anything else.” He dared Blue to contradict him.

Blue looked disgusted.

Enduring Hope shrugged. “A Ghost in the cockpit? So what? If you’re going to stop smashing up my ships, you can train rats to fly for all I care.”

Burden’s reaction seemed more complex. “The question is, will our crews fly with a Ghost? We have all been trained from birth to despise their sleek hides.”

Pirius Red nodded. “I understand, believe me. If we do this, I’ll join the first flight myself. Show the way.”

“Good,” said Burden. “But also — I have to ask — will a Ghost fly with humans?”

“It did back in Sol system,” Torec said.

“But that was a technology proving exercise. This is combat training. We are enemies, remember.”

Pirius turned to the Silver Ghost. “Ambassador?”

The Ghost rolled, its subtle change of posture somehow indicating it was listening.

“You’ve heard what we have to say. Are you willing—”

“I anticipated the request.” Virtual schematics scrolled through the air in front of it. “I have taken the liberty of preparing a plan. We could be ready to fly tomorrow.”

That left them all speechless.

Pirius Blue said coldly, “I wonder whose agenda we are really following.”

Pirius Red broke up the meeting, trusting his people to figure out the actions required to achieve the new plan.

After the others had gone, Torec stayed behind. “Pirius — I need to talk to you. About Tili Three.”

“I saw your log.”

“She just isn’t going to cut it.” Torec shook her head, as miserable as if this was her own failure. “I don’t think it’s a lack of ability, or courage. And it’s nothing to do with her prosthesis. It’s just that she’s been through too much down on Quin. She’s burned out.”

This would be the fourth crew member Pirius had lost like this. The attrition rate was worrying, but there was nothing he could do about that; for some, this assignment was simply too tough.

Torec was upset. “I hate to raise this. I don’t want her hurt.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll sign her off as unfit for duty.” If he didn’t, she could be marked down as “Lacking Moral Fiber” — in the barracks, one of the worst stigmas you could have attached to your character. “Talk to Blue,” he told Torec. “He can break it to her.”

“Thanks,” she said. She glanced around; seeing the room was empty, she gave him a peck on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Squadron Leader.”

She hurried out. Pirius stared after her, bemused.

Pirius Red decided to hotfoot it to the refectory while he had a chance, but Nilis waylaid him.

Even here on 492, while the squadron got itself together, Nilis was continuing his multifaceted studies of Chandra’s mysteries, but he was still encountering baffling obstructions. “It’s immensely frustrating,” he would say. “After all, the clock is counting down for me too. At this rate we will have destroyed Chandra before we know what it is!”

To Pirius’s relief, though, he didn’t want to talk about the black hole today.

“I watched the transcript of your meeting,” the Commissary said. “Abbreviated, of course.”

Pirius frowned. “Do you think I’m wrong to allow the Ghost to lead us?”

“I don’t know if you’re right or wrong — and nor do you, until you try it. But it’s certainly a good idea.” Nilis smiled. “You’ve come a long way since Pluto, Pirius. I’m proud of you. You are becoming able to rise above your first reactions, your conditioning. I think it’s called maturity.”

Well, perhaps. Pirius had thought this over before the meeting, knowing he had to float the possibility. He told himself he had no qualms about using the Ghost: whatever it took to get the job done. Pluto was far away, weeks ago. But even so, it had been odd seeing Burden and Hope trailing a Silver Ghost as it headed out of the room; Blue’s face, a cold mirror of his own, had been like his own conscience. Had he really matured since Pluto? Or was he compromised by contacts with earthworms, as Blue kept telling him?

Nilis said, “If I may, I’ll ride along with you tomorrow, on this remarkable flight. As a Virtual passenger, I mean,” he added hastily.

“Why? Because it’s historic?” Pirius, overstressed, overworked, felt irritated. “To be frank, Commissary, I don’t think many of us are thinking about history right now.”

Nilis winked. “Ah, but history never stops thinking about you, pilot.”

For some reason that chilled Pirius. “We might not end up with any crew capable of flying anyhow,” he said bleakly. “We lost another one today.”

“Tili Three? I know. But you did the right thing, Pirius. You showed compassion.” Nilis smiled, his face crumpling slightly. “I’m no military man, but I believe this is called leadership. I have the feeling that if you keep this up, you’re going to become the kind of stubborn, loyal, dependable, inspirational fool who soldiers have always followed, to glory or their deaths.”

Hotly embarrassed, Pirius looked away. “I wouldn’t know, sir.”

“Of course not, of course not.” Nilis stared at Pirius with his big, moist eyes, and his expressive face was creased with concern. “And how are you in yourself?”

“I’m fine,” Pirius snapped. He gazed back defiantly for a moment, but when Nilis waited for more, he weakened. “I’m doing my best,” he said. “It’s just there is so much to do.”

Nilis laid his warm, heavy hand on Pirius’s shoulder. “Listen to me. You’re doing all that could be asked of you. If you manage to get your hastily assembled crews of veterans and misfits through such a challenging training program, and all in a few weeks — that in itself will be a massive achievement, regardless of how the mission turns out.” Nilis straightened up. “Remember this, though: you are your own most important resource. Make time for yourself. Lean on Pila more. Make sure you rest properly, eat, all the rest of it. Don’t neglect the biology. I’m relieved you decided to fly yourself tomorrow. Remember, I pushed for you to be squadron leader in the first place because you’re the best pilot I’ve ever encountered. So keep up your own training. And another thing…”

Pirius, his stomach rumbling, resumed his walk to the refectory. Nilis trailed him, advising, hectoring, arguing, his eyes bright and earnest.

So the next day Pirius Red found himself free of his desk, at the controls of a greenship, and “flying down the tunnel,” as the crews were starting to call it. Ahead of him was the oscillating, turbulent, eye-watering disc of a grav shield, and around him were walls of distorted spacetime.

The little constellation of greenship lights was steady. The flight, under Burden’s command — Pirius had been careful to relegate himself to a mere pilot’s role — was going well.

Right at its heart was the shield-master ship, piloted by Jees. The best pilot in the squadron, in this most difficult of environments, was once again flying steady and true. Pirius had assigned Torec to serve as Jees’s navigator today — but in her engineer’s pod was the massive form of the Silver Ghost, working the grav shield generators.

Unconventional it was, but it seemed to be working. Even Pirius’s own flight had been smooth, though he had deliberately taken on board two comparative rookies for his own navigator and engineer. Up to now, the flight couldn’t have conformed more to plan if this had been a sim, even though no flight that was a surf along the stitched-up interface between one universe and another, with a Silver Ghost as guest engineer, was ever going to be routine.