In the shocked silence that followed, Torec helped him out. “That is what we did with the prototype, back in Sol system, and for the exact same reasons. A Ghost has to fly Ghost technology.”

The Ghost, which had been hovering like an immense soap bubble, suddenly drifted half a meter forward. It altered the geometry of the meeting, disturbing everybody.

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.”