“He’s right,” said Pirius Blue. “Those flak batteries didn’t see you coming in, but they chased you back out, Red. And the ops room say there are nightfighters on the way.”

“We have to go back in,” said Pirius Red. “Now, before it gets any worse.”

“I’ll go,” said Jees abruptly. It was the first time she had spoken since Pirius’s return.

Pirius Red said, “But your ship’s configured to carry the grav shield.”

“We don’t need it on the way back. We’ll just be running for home.”

“No, but your bird will wallow even more than the rest.”

“Then I’m expendable. And I’m your best pilot,” she said simply. “If anybody can make this work, I can.”

Torec pointed out: “Pirius. She has a Silver Ghost on board.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Jees snapped. “Its presence doesn’t affect the operation of the weapon. And now that we’re done with the shield, its usefulness is at an end. The Ghost is just cargo now; it has no say.”

“She has a point,” Pirius Blue said.

But, Pirius Red thought, the Ghost was probably listening to every word.

He called his second flight commander. “Burden? What’s your recommendation?” But, though his comm channel was clearly open, Burden didn’t reply. Again Pirius felt a flicker of unease.

“Come on, Pirius,” Jees said evenly. “We need a decision.”

Enough. “Go,” he said.

Jees had evidently been waiting for the go-ahead. Her ship immediately looped out of formation and streaked down toward the accretion disc.

She got about as far as Pirius had. Then starbreaker beams from those Sugar Lump flak stations, four of them probed for her. She held her position, got her own range-finding starbreakers working, and reported doing a little more damage to the net. But her green spark winked out before she even launched her bombs.

When it was over, just minutes after Jees had left the formation, Pirius forced himself to speak.

“Okay. Okay. Maybe there’s another way.”

Enduring Hope was still on the balcony with Nilis, Kimmer, Luru Parz.

When the news of the second failure, and the loss of Jees and her crew, filtered through to the ops room, Nilis was distraught. He wandered along the walkway, wringing his hands and wiping the soft flesh of his face. “Oh no,” he said, over and over. “Oh no, oh no. It’s my fault. We are failing, and their lives are burning up like sparks, and all for nothing. . . .” It was a distressing sight. But Enduring Hope reminded himself that Nilis was, at heart, a civilian, with a civilian’s lack of understanding of war.

Marshal Kimmer did not react, either to the bad news from the target or to Nilis’s loss of control. There was little he could do to shape the course of events, but in this difficult time he was a pillar of rectitude, Enduring Hope thought, a model of strength and determination. Hope had never thought much of Kimmer as a commander, what little he had seen of him; but this dark moment seemed to be bringing out the best in him.