Gramm, as Minister of Economic Warfare, served on something called the War Cabinet. Under the chairmanship of a Grand Conclave member called the Plenipotentiary for Total War, this subcommittee was dedicated to the prosecution of the Xeelee war in all its aspects. Now Gramm had been appointed head of the interagency committee which had been given the responsibility of overseeing Nilis’s Project Prime Radiant.

“But most of the great agencies have representatives on our oversight committee,” Nilis said cynically, “as they do on most initiatives that might affect their interests. Around this table there are ambassadors from the Army and Navy, the Guardians, the Ministry of Psychological Warfare who do their best to outguess the Xeelee, with no notable success, and some of the specialist guilds like the Communicators and Engineers and Navigators, and the Surveyors of Revenues, and the Auditor General’s Office. Even the Benefactors are here!—though I don’t see what our greenships have to do with their free hospitals and dole handouts. And of course, there are representatives of the many arms of the Commission for Historical Truth. Gramm, as chair of the committee, has a lot of sway. But any decision is a collective one.”

Darc grunted. “It’s amazing the Coalition doesn’t collapse under its own bureaucracy. And look at all those black robes.” Glancing around the table, Pirius saw that the few martial uniforms, like Darc’s, were far outnumbered by the glum robes of Commissaries; they seemed to swarm through the big room, a black-clothed plague. Darc said, “We are at war. But we seem to divert an awful lot of our energies to policing our own ideological drift.”

Nilis said sternly, “This is politics, Commander.”

“Hmmph. Give me combat any day!”

Minister Gramm hammered at the tabletop with a gavel—a wooden hammer on a wooden table, a remarkably archaic gesture. The susurrus of conversation around the table died. Without preliminaries, Gramm called on Nilis to make his opening remarks.

Nilis lumbered to his feet, a smile fixed on his lined face. His voice was forceful. But Pirius could see the beads of sweat on his neck.

Formally speaking, this was just another stage in the decision-making process: the mandate actually to go to war with this new weapon would not be given today. All this committee was being asked to approve was to release a further tranche of funding—granted a much bigger tranche, as Nilis was asking to establish a new Navy squadron equipped with his new technology at the center of the Galaxy. But still, Pirius knew it was the most important decision point in the project’s uncertain progress so far.