The bot led the way through a maze of carpeted corridors to the Minister’s office.

Pirius had been expecting opulence. The room was richer than anything he had seen at Arches Base, of course—and a lot richer than Nilis’s apartment, for instance. The carpet on the floor was a thick pile, and even the walls were covered by some kind of heavily textured paper.

But the room was windowless: that was significant, as Pirius had learned that the most prized rooms in any Conurbation-dome building had window views. And this was a working room. The only furniture was a desk, a small conference table, and chairs—and a couch, upholstered with maroon fabric and laden with cushions, on which rested the great bulk of the Minister of Economic Warfare himself.

Gramm had kicked his shoes off, and loosened his robe. Lying there, his stomach had spread out like a sack of mercury, and his jowly face was slack and tired. A table floated at Gramm’s right hand; Pirius could smell spicy food. Bots and small Virtual displays hovered around Gramm’s head, and voices whispered, constantly updating the Minister on whatever was happening in the corners of his complex world. Gramm’s fat hand dug into the plates, but he never so much as glanced at what he was pushing into his mouth. Pirius had never seen the Minister look so deflated, so exhausted.

It seemed to take the Minister a long time to notice the ensign standing to attention at the door. He snapped, “Oh, come in, boy, come in. I won’t bite. Not you, anyhow.”

Pirius stepped forward. “Sir, I’ve come to deliver—”

“A message, I know, from your ragged-robed master. Well, you’ve done it.” He looked away and continued to eat.

Pirius waited awkwardly. He was becoming used to these nonmilitary types with their ignorance of protocol, but he was reluctant to move until he was dismissed. Maybe he’d be left standing here all night.

At length Gramm noticed him. “You still here? I suppose it’s been a difficult day for you. Must all be very strange.” He guffawed. “Though it was a delicious moment when you told that pompous old fool Kolo Yehn that he had an inferiority complex about the Xeelee. Hah! I’ll have to make sure that’s highlighted in the minute.”

Pirius felt color rise in his cheeks. “I was only speaking my mind. Sir.”

Gramm eyed him, chewing. “Lethe, you’re a spirited one. Look, Ensign, I can imagine what you think of me.” He brushed crumbs from his vast belly. “I can see myself through your eyes.”

“I have no personal opinions, sir.”

“Oh, garbage. But what you perhaps don’t see—look here. Do you know what my job is?”

“You’re Minister of—”

“That’s my role. My function is to prosecute this damn war. I take the strategic goals of the Coalition as a whole and turn them into operational goals. Maybe you’ve seen today that given the infighting that goes on at every level, even at the highest reaches of the Coalition, those strategic goals aren’t always clear. But that’s the principle.