“Remarkable,” breathed Provost Kohl, as the encounter played before him: the sudden confrontation, ending in dazzling light, and death. “A plasma weapon.”

Commissioner Seah failed to conceal surprise. “You know of such devices? Provost, I must insist…”

“Insist?” Kohl snapped. “You overreach yourself, Seah. The US is no longer the pivot about which we rotate. Other bodies of equal, and greater magnitude orbit within the sphere of the Synod.”

“I apologise, Provost. But you concede that our Helium 3 facilities are of vital importance to us all.”

“Which is why we acted to contain a situation that had escalated beyond your control.”

“At what cost,” said Shea.

“You disapprove of our methods?” Kohl asked, acidly. “I might remind you we sacrificed one of our own for the sake of your salvation. A terrible loss – but necessary, as the Nuncio herself acknowledges.”

“From Heaven,” muttered Shea, imagining that ontological hinterland – the spiritual corral of the beatified. “Would that we were all so fortunate.”