Draq’s restless hands, encumbered by his skinsuit gloves, wriggled and pulled at each other. “But can’t you see—that’s the sheer excitement of the project. The Ghosts were of course wiped out. But perhaps you know that the Ghosts were composite creatures—each of them symbiotic communities, comprising many living beings, some from worlds alien to the Ghosts themselves, and with their technology merged into their structure, too. And their technologies were simply too useful. For example, hides like this are grown on controlled farms across the Galaxy. Strange to think that bits of what might have been Ghosts are at work, in the service of mankind, all across the Galaxy. If we had been defeated, perhaps the Ghosts would use human leg muscles and livers, hearts, and bones in their machinery!

“And so when, ah, the decision was made that the Ghosts themselves should be revived, under controlled conditions of course, it wasn’t hard to reassemble a self-sustaining community. They are quite at home here, on Pluto; perhaps you know they came from a chill world, colder than Pluto, and their technology, what we’ve been able to recover, serves them well.”

“But why?”

“Because Ghosts are a valuable resource.”

Ghosts were . . . strange.

Early in their history, their sun had failed, their world had frozen. The universe had betrayed them, literally—and this had taught them that the universe contained design flaws. And so their science turned to fixing those flaws. They ran experimental programs of quite outrageous ambition. Humans certainly had cause to fear them, before they were crushed.

Draq said, “Long ago, the Coalition councils decided that the Ghosts’ . . . ah, ingenuity should be revived—put to use as an engine of ideas, a resource for the benefit of mankind. This was done over and over with other races during the Assimilation, you know. Why not the Ghosts?”

Pirius said, “A resource you had to conceal.”

“Yes! For security—both for humanity’s protection from the Ghosts, and vice versa. And for deniability, I won’t pretend that isn’t true. But you’re here for the Ghosts, whether you know it or not, Commissary. The gravastar idea is theirs—”

Mara said coldly, “This ‘valuable resource’ can talk.”

The Ghost hovered impassively. There was no change in its appearance, yet the grammar of the group changed. Suddenly the Ghost stopped being an object, but became a person, a contributor to the conversation.

Nilis walked up to the silvered hide, his Virtual projection casting a blurred reflection on the Ghost’s belly. “It can talk, can it? I see it has a translator box on that belt.” He stood before the Ghost, hands on hips. “You! Ghost!”

Mara said, “There’s no need to shout, Commissary.”

Nilis said, “Do you have a name?”

The Ghost’s voice was synthetic, a neutral human-female voice generated by the translator box it carried, and transmitted to their receiving gear. “I am known as the Ambassador to the Heat Sink.”