“I’m fine,” Pirius snapped. He gazed back defiantly for a moment, but when Nilis waited for more, he weakened. “I’m doing my best,” he said. “It’s just there is so much to do.”

Nilis laid his warm, heavy hand on Pirius’s shoulder. “Listen to me. You’re doing all that could be asked of you. If you manage to get your hastily assembled crews of veterans and misfits through such a challenging training program, and all in a few weeks—that in itself will be a massive achievement, regardless of how the mission turns out.” Nilis straightened up. “Remember this, though: you are your own most important resource. Make time for yourself. Lean on Pila more. Make sure you rest properly, eat, all the rest of it. Don’t neglect the biology. I’m relieved you decided to fly yourself tomorrow. Remember, I pushed for you to be squadron leader in the first place because you’re the best pilot I’ve ever encountered. So keep up your own training. And another thing . . .”

Pirius, his stomach rumbling, resumed his walk to the refectory. Nilis trailed him, advising, hectoring, arguing, his eyes bright and earnest.

So the next day Pirius Red found himself free of his desk, at the controls of a greenship, and “flying down the tunnel,” as the crews were starting to call it. Ahead of him was the oscillating, turbulent, eye-watering disc of a grav shield, and around him were walls of distorted spacetime.

The little constellation of greenship lights was steady. The flight, under Burden’s command—Pirius had been careful to relegate himself to a mere pilot’s role—was going well.

Right at its heart was the shield-master ship, piloted by Jees. The best pilot in the squadron, in this most difficult of environments, was once again flying steady and true. Pirius had assigned Torec to serve as Jees’s navigator today—but in her engineer’s pod was the massive form of the Silver Ghost, working the grav shield generators.

Unconventional it was, but it seemed to be working. Even Pirius’s own flight had been smooth, though he had deliberately taken on board two comparative rookies for his own navigator and engineer. Up to now, the flight couldn’t have conformed more to plan if this had been a sim, even though no flight that was a surf along the stitched-up interface between one universe and another, with a Silver Ghost as guest engineer, was ever going to be routine.

As the record time of two hours flying behind a shield approached, Pirius felt some of the tension seep out of his body.

Nilis, a Virtual uncomfortably lodged in the cockpit with Pirius, was, after the first hour or so, relaxed enough to dip into the comm loops between the ships. He was particularly intrigued by the conversation between This Burden Must Pass, the notorious Friend of Wigner, and the Silver Ghost in the lead ship. Burden was taking the chance of talking to the Ghost away from its Guardians.