“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?”