“You what?” That brought White Haven upright in his chair once more, and his eyes widened when his brother nodded. “But that’s unconstitutional!”

“Not exactly,” William said. “The Constitution specifies that any permanent income tax must be flat-rated, but it does make provision for temporary adjustments to the rate.”

“ ‘Temporary’!” White Haven snorted.

“Temporary,” William repeated firmly. “Any progressive taxes have to be enacted with a specific time limit, and they automatically terminate at the time of the first general election after enactment. And they can only be passed with a two-thirds super-majority of both houses in the first place.”

“Hmpf!”

“You always were a fiscal conservative, Hamish. And I won’t say you’re wrong. Hell, I’m a fiscal conservative! But we’ve already quadrupled the transit fees on the Junction and levied special duties on our own merchant shipping, as well—not to mention increasing import duties to a two-hundred-and-fifty-year high. So far, we’ve managed not to have to rob Peter to pay Paul—or at least not to resort to armed robbery with violence in the process. But without something like a progressive tax, we won’t be able to keep that up much longer. We’ve already had to restrict cost of living increases in government pensions and assistance programs… and I’ll let you imagine for yourself how Marisa Turner and her bunch reacted to that.”

“Not well, I’m sure,” White Haven grunted. Then his eyebrows rose. “You’re not saying New Kiev went public about it, are you?”

“Not directly. She’s been more nibbling around the edges—sort of testing the water. The Opposition hasn’t come right out and criticized me and Allen over it yet; they’re only at the ’we regret the harsh necessity’ stage. But I can’t guarantee they’ll stay there.” It was William’s turn to snort. “They sure as hell aren’t holding their fire on the basis of principle, Ham! They’re afraid of what’ll happen to them at the polls if they seem to be seeking partisan advantage in the middle of a war.”

“Is it really that bad?” White Haven asked anxiously, and this time Caparelli responded before his brother could.

“It is and it isn’t, My Lord,” he said. “We’re doing everything we can at the Admiralty to hold budgets down, and from a purely military perspective, there’s lots of slack yet in our industrial capability. The problem Lord Alexander and Duke Cromarty are facing is how we can use that capability without crippling the civilian sector, and even there, we still have quite a lot of slack in fact. The problem is that politics is a game of perceptions, and the truth is that we are reaching the point of imposing some real sacrifices on our civilians.”

White Haven blinked. The Thomas Caparelli he’d known for three-quarters of a century wouldn’t have made that remark, because he wouldn’t have understood the fine distinctions it implied. But it seemed his tenure as First Space Lord was stretching his mind in ways White Haven hadn’t anticipated.

“Sir Thomas is right,” William said before the Earl could follow that thought completely down. “Oh, we’re not even close to talking about rationing yet, but we’ve got a real inflation problem for the first time in a hundred and sixty years, and that’s only going to get worse as more and more of our total capacity gets shifted into direct support of the war at the same time as wartime wages put more money into the hands of our consumers. Again, this is for your private information, but I’ve been in closed-door negotiations with the heads of the major cartels to discuss centralized planning for the economy.”