‘But that’s purely theoretical, isn’t it? We don’t know this for a fact.’

Olivarri was standing with one gloved hand resting on the lower curve of a drive-spine. He raised his other hand and waggled it from side to side. ‘No, but it’s the current best explanation, unless the Shoal have a better idea, and they weren’t telling us even before they pulled a vanishing act. But virtual time at least explains why the degradation starts from the outside’ – he lifted his helmeted head to look up towards the tip of the drive-spine – ‘and works its way in towards the hull, rather than affecting every atom of the frigate at once. You need to introduce time, even if it’s just virtual time, to explain that.’

‘Like the little bubble of virtual space-time we’re caught in had started to shrink.’

‘Exactly. And because the virtual time that passes is vanishingly small—’

‘We come out with relatively minor degradation.’

‘Got it.’ That brilliant toothy smile again.

Ty turned to look behind him towards the stern. He couldn’t even pick out the Hyades Cluster any more, and it was only six days since they had left Redstone. A hundred metres away, a couple of spiders were hovering around another drive-spine, getting ready to repair some of that very same degradation.

He and Olivarri had decoupled the failed drive-spine, and half a dozen spiders were ready, their extendible arms gripping it at various points, to lift it away from the hull once the clamps that attached it in place were released.

Its replacement waited nearby, held in place by its own separate retinue of spider-mechs. It was a tricky and dangerous procedure, so all three humans kept a safe distance for the moment, letting the spiders do most of the work, and stepping in only where absolutely necessary.

Despite the precautions, there had already been some near fatalities. Lamoureaux had nearly fried himself getting too close to some frayed power-conduits; a hull-plate had swung loose while being detached, totalling a couple of spiders and very nearly taking Corso with it. And that wasn’t even taking into account the greater risk of replacement drive-spines blowing up once they were plugged into the frigate’s plasma flow, if they weren’t configured in just the right way.

Given those risks, using the spiders generally, with a few human beings at hand to step in if absolutely necessary, was a fine idea in principle, except that in practice the team had to take over from the spiders on pretty much every occasion. The mechs were fine for grunt work, but the more delicate aspects of the job required human hands and minds.

‘Okay,’ said Nancy, ‘releasing the clamps now.’