I hurried from the new Joint Task Force Ganymede headquarters over to the Council House, checking my messages as I went. There was one from Sage saying she was home from school and where was everyone, and were we going to be home for dinner?

I replied, saying, sorry, I didn't think we were, and to get something from Mama Grace. She shot back quickly that she'd already done that, and now she and Rok'gar were on their way to one of the tamed levels to swim.

That pulled me up short. Rok'gar was my orc frenemy Mak’Gar's teenage son. I knew he was in Sage's school class, though not in her personal friends group. What was she doing going swimming with him? Should I be worried about that? Surely not. It was an orc, for Pete's sake.

Then again, some of those elf chicks were pretty cute, or were back before I got married. I banished the thought as I reached the Council House.

They'd done some nice work on decoration. The outside was a mock stucco finish with different colored stones set into the wall to form a mosaic. It displayed Jupiter, and rising behind it, Earth, not remotely to scale. I stepped inside. The floor was finished now, with hardwood planks that still smelled like freshly cut cedar. There was a chair railing on the wall halfway down, and everything below it had been painted a soothing shade of blue. Above it was still taped off, waiting for paint.

I heard the commotion long before I reached the Council Chamber doors. I paused outside for a minute but couldn't quite make out the voices and words in the muffled shouting. I cracked the door. A wall of sound blasted me. I blinked against it, peered inside. The councilors were all seated around the table, except that three of them were on their feet. Juana stood in the middle, her fists tight, little white specks on her red face as she shouted at Councilor Dinkins and Councilor Chen. Councilor Fletcher was seated at the far end of the table, looking smug.

"No, I am not a lackey of the military-industrial complex," Juana snarled, "and I resent the implication that just because I'm married to one officer, I am in bed with all of them. I have been elected by the people of Threshold to represent their interests, and I will continue to do so regardless of the aspersions cast upon me. If they are unhappy with how I am representing them, they can circulate a recall petition. I'll even hang a copy of it up in my mother's restaurant for ease of access."

Councilor Chen hissed as she spoke. "Threshold is being invaded by this army. Joint Task Force Ganymede is bringing in over 4,000 uniformed personnel, to say nothing of these dependents."

"A drop in the bucket," Dinkins shouted back. "We have over 3 million people here, growing every day. A couple of thousand NATO troops are no big deal."

I slipped inside the council room and let the door fall closed. There was an audience for all of this, a couple of dozen Thresholders sitting in the chairs, listening intently.

I slid in next to an older fellow. I was surprised to see a bald head and white hair here. Most of them got regenerated by the system. He must have been healthier than the average 60-year-old. He nodded to me as I sat down.

"Evening, Williams."

"Evening," I whispered back. "Sorry, I don't recognize you."

He held up a hand. "Nah, my name’s Hank. You saved my wife from lung cancer a few months back. We've been right appreciative."

There weren't very many spouses of mercy cases here. I was aware of a couple who had been abductees prior to their spouse arriving, and one or two cases where the spouse had applied and been granted immigration rights due to overwhelming technological know-how.

I sent a quick system query with the man's name and face, and it came back. Professor Hank W. Zimmerman, formerly University of Alabama, also Redstone Arsenal, double PhD in electronics and physics, multiple publications. Okay, yeah. No wonder he'd been allowed up here.

"Tell you what," he said, shaking his head. "If I weren't a married man, I'd be making a pass at your wife after how she's performed tonight. Whoo-ee, that gal can hold her own in a fight. Where'd you get her?"

"She was an abductee like me," I said stiffly. "But she's from Texas originally."

He slapped his knee. "Texas! I knew it. I was born in Texas."

I had guessed that based on his undergraduate degree from Texas A&M. "Well, I'll just shut up here so you can listen to the show," Dr. Hank said and settled back.

The councilors had concluded the last argument. Now Chen leaned forward. “I’m presenting a notice to the council. The People’s Republic have signed a partnership with Proxima. Starting on the fifth of next month we will be working together to integrated three thousand new miners every two weeks. Don’t worry,” she said, “they won’t be a strain on our resources for long. Proxima will arrange to offload the newcomers within a week of their induction.”

If I’d thought there was a riot before, that was nothing. "We're not prepared to handle another inundation of people every few weeks," Councilman Dinkins protested.

Chen dismissed that with a wave. "They'll bring rations with them. We just need a place for them to sleep for a few days as they're processed through initiation.”

“Plus, the teams to support that many new initiations every week,” Councilor Dinkins retorted angrily.”

I started trying to do the math on how many more teams I'd need. I didn't like running more than a hundred through at a time. It was too easy to lose track of someone and risk them being harmed. Plus, Air Marshal Hatfield had more or less ordered me to step back from the civilian initiations. She wasn't going to like this.

But of course, that wasn't even the biggest concern. That many more initiates would be a huge drain on our budget. A minimum of 6,000 I-units every month, and I didn't doubt they'd step up the pace.

Juana held up a hand. "Councilwoman Chen, this proposal should have been brought before us weeks ago. You are out of order."

"The Council has been preoccupied with the matter of the imperialist soldiers," Chen said. "You haven't had the time to spare.”

Stolen story; please report.

“It’s a multi-national task force,” Juana corrected. “Regardless, we cannot absorb this influx with our current budget.”

I was about ready to go up there and start a little trouble. Hank caught my eye and shook his head. "Let 'em yell," he said quietly. "It's most of what this is good for. After a couple of hours, they'll settle down and get something decided. I admire your wife. She's damn good at getting a bit of sense out of this lot.”

I was already busy composing a detailed message to Ames so he could brief Air Marshal Hatfield. This must be what Chen and Fletcher wanted to speak with the Air Marshal about tomorrow.

That's when I got a message from out-system. It was from Dwight. I hadn't heard from him in a while. I opened it up.

Hey, Shad. Hope it's going well for you and Juana. I had a message from a mutual friend of ours. Can't name any names, but she asked to be remembered to you and passed along a warning that some of the Galactics are going for a big squeeze. Their stock prices have increased in the past couple of weeks on the rumor that they're going to be able to get a monopoly in on the rogue reality engine. Can't say more. You'll figure it out. I should be wrapping up here in a few weeks and heading back. Say hi to Sage for me. Dwight.

At the far end of the table, Councilor Dinkins raised a hand. "He's usually got some good sense," Hank said approvingly.

"How about making a gas run? Can we hire someone to go tank us up on ethereum?"

Juana nodded. "Once the Ad Astra is fully online, yes. Kronos has already contracted with her owners to make a deal.” She was carefully not saying that Misfits Guild, as an organization, had been given the Ad Astra by Kronos in the first place. The councilors mostly knew that already, but no need to remind them just how many conflicts of interest were at work here.

Air Marshall Hatfield was right. I was part of JTF Ganymede, and also had been running missions like I was still out on my own, on top of help integrate newcomers. Juana was on the council and one of the board members for Misfits Guild. Grandpa had his finger in a half-dozen pies… we’d been running around from one crisis to another, trying to hold everything together, we hadn’t really stopped to think.

And this wasn’t healthy. Not for me or Juana or the whole human effort here. Sooner or later we were going to have to decide who we really served.

“What prevents the galactics from embargoing us?” Nguyen asked.

I happened to know from Ames that Earth agents had already acquired a supply of ethereum. It was just a matter of getting it here. The Ad Astra’s projected overhaul was still several months out.

“It’s been handled by our agents already,” Juana said. “Also, outside the scope of this council.”

“How much of that shipload will we receive?” Fletcher asked.

“None. It goes to Kronos, and we negotiate with him for more. I suggest you start thinking of a really convincing argument, because I’m done asking him to support freeloaders,” Juana said. “I think it’s time we start austerity measures. Councilor Dinkins, your report?”

Dinkins steepled his hands together. “I’ve been looking at how the galactics handle their populations. People who don’t want to work, who just want to be plugged into the engine, live inside the reality engine’s levels. You can pack a lot of people into a simulated city. We’re going to start charging rent on all council-owned domiciles here in Threshold. If you want a free ride, you go into the engine.”

“Kronos has expressed interest in working with some of our rehabilitation cases,” Juana said. “The ex-addicts and such. Based on the experience of the former lotus eaters, I think it’s worth a try.”

“You must be joking,” Fletcher said. “You’re going to force people into tenements, give them subsistence rations and brainwash them?”

“Not a bit. We’re establishing a minimum basic living standard. Anyone who doesn’t like it has opportunities to improve their lot,” Dinkins said.

“All in favor,” Juana said, and four hands went up. “Opposed?”

Fletcher, Chen, and Levi raised their hands.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Spending etherium like it was water, when my team and I had to sweat and bleed for it, didn’t sit right with me. Time to give people some consequences.

“If that concludes our business for the evening,” Dinkins said, “I move we adjourn.”

Hank yawned. “Sounds like the fireworks are just about over. I like to come and hear what they're up to. My wife has a mahjong party that meets at our place three nights a week. No room in my own house once those ladies get going, and there's not that much nightlife here in Threshold. Sometimes I go fishing. There’s a really nice level with tons of sport fish. But some nights, I just want to kick back and listen to folks bicker. Reminds me of when I had kids at home."

“Thanks for keeping me company,” I said as he stood up.

“Sorry about that,” Juana said when they finally broke up. “I got a tip from Dinkins that Chen was up to something and I wanted you to hear it. Whew! I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Thanks for the heads’ up. I passed word to Ames. I also told Hatfield to expect you tomorrow — Chen and Fletcher have an audience, did you know?” I held the door for Juana as we left the chamber.

She shook her head wearily. “No. Glad they won’t be blindsiding the Air Marshall with this affair.”

“It’s a scheme. By Proxima, probably. Run us out of resources, gin up discontent, then swoop in with the solution.” I sighed. “I’ll draw up plans for another fragment mission and talk it over with Hatfield. You know, if it weren’t for the memory wipes, I’d make the council come with me on the next mission, but they’ll just die a dozen times and forget everything that happened. It would do them good to see what this actually costs.”

“I wish you could.” Juana slipped her hand into mine as we left the council building and headed for home. “Those missions make me lose so much sleep.”

“This isn’t sustainable. We can’t keep funding these idiots.”

“I know, but it’s temporary. As soon as we can get Ad Astra online —”

“That solves our ethereum problem. Not our people problem,” I pointed out. “Dinkins’s austerity scheme is good. I hope it works. But I’ve seen reports. The Galactics have trillions of citizens who live their whole lives zoned out inside their reality engines, having their needs catered to. Even if it wasn’t going to cost us money, I don’t like the idea of most of humanity evolving into couch potatoes.”

“Me either, but there’s only so much we can do. We can’t force them to take jobs or pick up real classes,” Juana said. We passed along the streets of Threshold, still lit as always, but quieter now than during daytime hours.

“Why not? Why is it ok for you to be working twenty hours a day, and me to be running mission after mission risking my sanity, but we can’t even make these idiots do farming? There’s no risk for them. They can’t die. Force them into a zone and give them a quota! Or, I don’t know, sell a bunch of them to Proxima, that would get everyone off our back.”

Juana laughed. “I wish we could. After how hard we worked to keep our people out of debt slavery…” Her eyes went wide. “Debt slavery! Of course!”

“Slow down and unpack?”

Juana’s words tumbled out, one over the next. “I need to talk to a galactic lawyer. But what if we start charging for integration? I know, I know. It’s guaranteed by Kronos. But your protective details aren’t. What if we present everyone you help with a nice bill after the fact?”

“That… uh… can we do that?”

“Hell, it’s probably Earth legal if we advertise it. We can make the sponsoring organization foot the bill. The JTF, or…” she grinned, “Proxima and the others. We’ll need to get the law written up before Chen’s influx, but I’m certain I can get it passed. We’ll need to hire some of your specialists for the inductions.”

“Hatfield wants the JTF out of the business of integration anyway. I’ll get you a roster of civilians who can help. I think Hester will be on board for certain. I’d trust her to run the scheme.

That might solve the problem of Proxima trying to bleed us dry, if it cost them a pretty penny for every new person they brought in. “It still doesn’t help with the freeloaders.”

Juana’s expression hardened. “No. It doesn’t. I’m going to ask Dinkins to make the austerity levels just a little too warm. The beds a bit too hard. Keep the food bland. And then we’ll pipe in commercials showing how nice the farming zones are, some idyllic fishing scenes and those funny blue sheep on that one level, the ones with the steel wool… yeah. I have a whole scheme for propaganda.”

“Just not tonight,” I said firmly, as we finally reached home.