Pilgrim came scrambling over the rocks, and one after another padded up the ramp. “It’s not as if they are whole people, Johanna. You know that.”

“You of all people don’t really believe that, do you, Pilgrim?”

The fivesome was busy seating himself all around the flight cabin. The agrav’s user interface might have been flexible in the Beyond, but down here in the Slow Zone, it defaulted to the form most fit for its original owners. Those had been Skroderiders. There might not be a single one alive on the whole planet. Too bad, since that default user interface had the flight controls scattered around the periphery of the cabin. Maybe a human crew could have flown the agrav—if that crew had trained their whole lives for the instabilities of the flight system. A pack, on the other hand, if it were as practiced and crazy as Pilgrim, could fly the thing, but just barely.

As the door closed and Pilgrim busied himself resetting the boat’s agrav fabric, part of him looked around at her, considering her last question. He made his human voice a little bit sad sounding, “No, they’re more than animals, Johanna. My love Woodcarver might say that they’re also less, but you know I don’t believe that. I’ve been in pieces often enough myself.” He pushed at one of the dozens of control holes set in the console. The agrav lifted up on the left side, then on the right. They slid sideways, smacking into the cliff face. He corrected, and the boat sagged left, coasting away from the cliff but bouncing against the largest of the rocks below. By then Pilgrim had the rhythm, and the boat fluttered upward, only occasionally scraping the cliff. Two years ago, after it became apparent that someone like Pilgrim was needed to fly the boat, Pilgrim had made a hobby of scaring the pee out of his passengers. Partly that was pilgrim humor and partly it was to give him an excuse to fly wherever he pleased. Johanna had been on to his game even if Ravna was fooled.