“Trace, you know the wars are our business, whether you like it or not,” Karol interrupted. “But I agree with your father, Jim, there’s no reason you should be saddled with our debts. Plus, I don’t recall you mentioning the military before. That corporal must have left quite an impression.”

“He’s a gunnery sergeant, Mom,” Jim said patiently, as he finished his stew. “And I have been thinking about it,” he said. “Tom got me interested in the marines a long time ago, but …” Jim looked at his worried parents and felt a little guilty. Truth was, his mom was right: He had never actually entertained the thought of enlisting until that afternoon. When the recruiter said it could help his family, it was all he needed to hear; if he didn’t help them, who would?

“Listen, I want to fight those scumbags, okay, because things are going to get worse before they get better, right, Dad? I mean, what if the Kel-Morians win? Then everybody would have to join an occupational guild … and do whatever the people in charge of the guilds say.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Karol said. “The people who lead the guilds are elected—but once in office they’re just about impossible to get out. And the guilds want war, because if they can control all of the scarce resources they can control everything.”

“That’s one of the reasons we’re paying higher taxes and dealing with shortages,” Trace added. “They’re hoarding strategic materials and trying to force us to accept their corrupt political system.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jim replied earnestly. “If I were to join up, I could do something about the long fuel lines and food shortages. I could help a lot of people, including you guys.”

Karol frowned. “This is kind of sudden, isn’t it? I don’t understand where all of this is coming from. You’ve never mentioned any of these feelings before.”