The main elements of the flight training program concerned the use of the new CTC processors for rapid tactical response, precision bombing, and formation flight in the wake of a grav shield. Well, there had been no significant problems with the CTC technology. Likewise the precision flying was going well. The pilots were getting used to the new dynamics of their clumsily modified ships. The starbreaker sighting technique he had come up with, perhaps because it had been figured out by a pilot in the first place, was fitting in easily with their methodology and instincts.

“The only bad news I can see in these areas,” he said, summing up, “is that it mightn’t be possible to give everybody enough time on the new gear. I’ve requisitioned as much sim time as I can. . . .” But everybody knew simulations were no substitute for hands-on experience in a real craft. Besides, the technology was being modified so rapidly that the sim designs were quite often a day or two behind the real thing anyhow.

Pirius Blue stared at him; as always, judgmental, hostile. “And you think that’s a minor problem? That we might fly into combat without everybody even having had time to try out the new gear?”

“I didn’t say minor,” Red said testily. “It’s something we can minimize. Juggling the schedules, accelerating sim upgrades—”

They argued on about the training issues for a while. Red let it run, trying to pick out positives, and identifying actions they could take.

Eventually the talk turned to the gravastar, the center of most of their issues.

Burden passed Pirius Red a data desk. “I’ve a summary of the stats here,” he said. “To date, the longest formation flight we’ve managed is two hours.” Everybody knew they would need to fly behind the shields for six hours to reach Chandra.

Blue said, “We just have to go back and keep trying, until we get it right.”

“But that’s wearing out the crews,” Burden said evenly.

Enduring Hope raised a hand to speak. “Not only the crews,” he said firmly. “You have to think about the ships as well. Maybe it isn’t obvious to you glamour-boy pilots, but even when you don’t get a catastrophic failure, every time you fly you’re fatiguing the structure and the systems. We are going to have to use at least some of these ships in anger. And if we’ve worn them out even before we’ve done training—”

“I hear what you say,” Pirius Red said. “What I don’t know is what to do about it.”

Blue said, “Our problem isn’t our ships, or our people. It’s that damn grav shield. If it stayed stable we could track it for six hours—or ten, or a hundred. But we can’t keep it stable. We can fly our ships, but we can’t fly the shield.”

“Ah,” said Burden. “And why? Because it’s Ghost technology, not human.”

Pirius Red took a deep breath. He’d been prepared for this moment. “So,” he said slowly, “we need a Ghost to fly it.”