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If anything, I had been understating the crisis facing our country during my first cabinet meeting. The fiscal crisis was, of course, real, and if left unchecked could be used by my fanatical enemies to usher in a communist revolution. In addition, my campaign rhetoric had created an internal expectation that I would kick off a second Great War. If left unchecked my fanatical followers could launch a violent revolution of their own. And, of course, that same rhetoric had created an external expectation that I would kick off a second Great War. If I didn't do something to head off that particular crisis then our foreign enemies could well invade and outright install a puppet regime.

I deliberately refrained from laying things out so plainly during the cabinet meeting. I needed my people to feel a sense of urgency and work hard. I didn't want them to be lost to despair. It's a leader's duty to shoulder that kind of burden. Also, as two of the crises had been entirely created by my own gratuitous actions, drawing too much attention to them could create yet another crisis as my cabinet united to throw me out of office.

While I hadn't really wanted this position to begin with and fully expected to step down before my term was up, I did have my pride. I wanted to go out on my own terms. Not to mention that I at least wanted to try to do right by my voters. They were a bunch of bloodthirsty maniacs who had put their hope in me. If I let them down completely then I'd be the next natural target of their bloodlust. I needed to put on a good show before I left the stage.

All I could do was try to put out one fire at a time. The top priority was to stave off any foreign invasion for as long as possible. I hoped that a bit of personal diplomacy would help to reassure our neighbors that I wasn't about to follow through on any of my more radical campaign promises. My first chance came on my second day as Chancellor, the morning after my first cabinet meeting.

Elya was the picture of composure as she brought a tray of snacks into the meeting room. Tea for the ambassador from the Allied Kingdom, water for the ambassador from the Unified States, and coffee for me. She set the tray down on the coffee table before retreating to the edge of the room. I was seated on the couch to one side of the coffee table while each of the ambassadors occupied an armchair on the other side of the table. A few functionaries were scattered around the room, but none of them would have a speaking role in today's meeting.

"Gentlemen," I said, leaning forward to retrieve the coffee. "Thank you for coming."

Mr. Johnson, the ambassador from the Unified States, was the first to respond.

"Shoot, it's our job, right?" he said, before slugging back a drink of water. "Talk, talk."

The American ambassador struck me as the kind of man who considered himself a straight shooter. He was in his fifties, and starting to show the signs of age. The silver highlights in his hair would have given him a touch of dignity if he weren't wearing the faintly ridiculous combination of a bow tie and suit that had last been tailored about twenty pounds ago. On the other hand, he was here as a representative of the nation with the largest industrial base in the world, which lent its own sort of gravitas.

"It's always an honor to be invited to the Chancellor's residence," Mr. Lloyd, the ambassador from the Allied Kingdom, said. He punctuated his remark by taking a small sip of tea.

Mr. Lloyd would not have looked a bit out of place in the halls of Buckingham Palace. His suit looked like it cost more than most cars, and his grooming was impeccable. He was stick thin, and although his smile was friendly enough his overall demeanor was rather cold. If I had to guess, I would have said that his favorite form of entertainment involved chasing after peasants on horseback.

"Such a pity that the Francois ambassador couldn't make it," I said, drawing a wince from both men.

"I believe," Mr. Lloyd said, "they were rather concerned about your comments that you would, well-"

"Round up every last Francois citizen you could and execute 'em for crimes against Germania," Mr. Johnson cut in, "if my memory's right."

That did sound familiar, now that he mentioned it. If I had ever thought I might be held accountable for all the wild promises I was making then I would have been much more careful during the campaign. Ah, well. At least I could take some comfort in the fact that I was protecting the country from being taken over by a maniac who actually believed in all that nonsense.

All I could do for now was chuckle and wave a hand dismissively. "Nobody ever manages to keep all of their campaign promises."

It would have been nice to gather representatives from all of the major countries behind the Treaty of Triano. Still, two out of three wasn't bad.

Mr. Lloyd continued the conversation after taking another sip of his tea. "I must admit I am curious which of your campaign promises will be receiving the brunt of your attention."

"Domestic affairs will be taking up most of my focus," I said, gesturing with the hand that wasn't occupied with the coffee cup. "Setting the economy right will take some effort. Not to mention the need to keep the communists from ruining everything."

"Ah, yes," Mr. Lloyd said, a sour expression on his face. "We've seen our fair share of radical organizers on our shores."

"Bastards are trying to spread their revolution across the ocean, too," Mr. Johnson chipped in.

I suppose there was a reason they called it international socialism. I kept a neutral expression on my face and hummed in acknowledgement.

"I dare say that it may take a heavy hand to root them out of Germania," Mr. Lloyd said. "Of course, the Allied Kingdom would hardly concern itself with your domestic affairs."

"We have a saying back home," Mr. Johnson said. "Better dead than red."

I blinked, slightly nonplussed. I'd been concerned that aggressive prosecution of the communist agents I knew to be on the Russite payroll would see me branded as a dictator. It was a little disconcerting to receive tacit approval for a pogrom. I could only conclude that I had been overestimating the moral delicacy of the other western democracies. A foolish mistake, considering they had been quite happy to wage a war of aggression against the Empire and impose a ruinous peace.

I managed to muster up a smile. "Ah, well, that's a relief."

In all honesty, their approval didn't change my plans one bit. Whatever foreigners might think, my fellow citizens would hardly approve of a wholesale slaughter of their peers. Better to go after the scofflaws in leadership through all legal means and put most of my focus on the economy. I was confident that much of the communist rank and file would change their minds once they had a steady job, full belly, and a warm roof over their heads.

On the other hand, I might be able to use the common ground of anti-communist sentiment to my own ends. After all, I did want to undermine that damned Treaty of Triano. It wasn't something that I could accomplish quickly, but the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

"Of course," I continued, after taking a moment to gather my thoughts, "the true source of communist unrest is the Rus Union."

I received nods of agreement all around, though neither man said anything.

"Imagine what will happen once the vast natural wealth of the Rus is harnessed by modern industry," I continued. "Instead of supporting revolution abroad, they will simply be able to impose communism at gunpoint."

That drew a raised eyebrow from Mr. Lloyd and a snort of disbelief from his American counterpart.

"Those boys spent years getting nowhere against the Akis," Mr. Johnson said, "and you think they can roll over a white army?"

I held my tongue as I carefully set down my coffee cup. My political campaign had relied heavily on xenophobia that nearly rose to the level of racism. It was annoying to find that same force now standing as an obstacle in my way. On the plus side, I was starting to feel a lot less worried about whether I could manage to convey a warning about Pearl Harbor.

"The logistics of a march to Berun are much less taxing than a march to the Pacific," I said. "Not to mention that no army can perform well if it's denied the tools needed to fight."

Mr. Johnson just shook his head, while Mr. Lloyd favored me with a well-practiced meaningless smile. "Chancellor Degurechaff, please rest assured that we will respond appropriately to any sort of Russite adventurism. However, we can hardly give our approval for the rebuilding of the Imperial military."

There was some more small talk to be had, but that was about all that I could accomplish in terms of material results. The bottom line was that while everybody hated and feared the ability of the communists to organize an internal revolution, I was the only one who took seriously the threat of the Red Army marching out of the east to overrun Europe. I couldn't help but feel some frustration. On the other hand, I believe I was able to earn some international good will simply by holding a rational conversation with foreign diplomats. With every day that went by without me launching some ill-conceived invasion, that good will would only increase.

That left the problem that my own citizens were primed to grow increasingly upset with every day went by that I failed to launch some ill-conceived invasion.

Well, not all of my fellow citizens. After all, I was the leader of a government coalition. My own party of war maniacs only accounted for thirty-two percent of the vote. In order to get over fifty percent we had allied ourselves with other parties that sympathized with our revanchism but who were far less eager to plunge headfirst back into war. You could call them the Stability Bloc. They didn't like hyperinflation, they didn't like communism, they didn't like the Francois, and they weren't too fond of democracy. In short, they wished that life could be how it was in the Empire before the war.

The overall result was a sort of high-low alliance. The Germanian Workers Party had a large number of voters and enthusiastic supporters, most of them from the lower classes. Our allies boasted far more of the elite movers and shakers among their ranks. They were perfectly comfortable with authoritarian leadership but had no interest in a revolution. Their support for me as Chancellor was a calculated gamble.

Fortunately for them, I was a reasonable person.

My first two weeks in office were consumed in a whirlwind of meetings and paperwork. I'd had a general idea of the state of the country during those halcyon days as a powerless back-bencher, but I needed a much firmer grasp of the relevant details if I was going to provide firm guidance as my ideas were translated into official policy. Briefings and committee meetings were poised to consume my life for the foreseeable future. In my scant free time, I met with prominent members of the community. As with my meeting with the foreign ambassadors, I did my best to assuage their doubts. To tell them that yes, things would be changing, but only as needed to deal with the current crisis. And that I certainly had no intention of invading anybody.

All in all, it felt like things were going pretty well. However, that still left me to deal with the large section of the electorate that had been chomping at the bit for war. Such a thing could not be accomplished in individual meetings. Instead, I had to turn to cutting edge mass media and schedule a radio appearance. I had avoided the radio during campaign season because I couldn't afford it. Now that I was Chancellor, I could shamelessly expropriate valuable airtime in the name of the public good.

I'll admit that I felt some nervousness in the hours leading up to the broadcast. By now I was well over any fear of speaking in front of a crowd, but to simply speak into a microphone and be heard by millions of people was on a whole other level. In order to distract myself, I even resorted to reading the local newspaper. At least I was able to find some good news.

"Elya, did you read this morning's Berun Post?"

She looked up from her desk, startled. I'd been pretty quiet as I spent most of the afternoon procrastinating.

"Most of it," she said. "Why?"

"The communists made the front page," I said, holding up the story in question for her to see.

The big news the previous week had been the arrest of major Communist Party figures. We had them dead to rights with proof showing they were more or less on Moskva's payroll. In addition to the arrests, we had seized quite the pretty penny from their party coffers. I'd also gotten to release what I thought was a compelling statement condemning foreign meddling in our elections that ran in papers throughout the country. That sort of scandal was rather dry, though, compared to the latest bombshell.

The largest regional branch of the Communist party had been under the control of a husband and wife team. Quite progressive. And romantic, I suppose. Tarnished, now, by the fact that the husband had caught his wife in bed with his trusted lieutenant. After killing them both, he shot himself in the head.

"I saw that," Elya said, "yes."

She looked at me with a trace of expectation in her eyes. It was still strange to have somebody other than Visha hanging on my every word. I took a moment to clear my throat and gather my thoughts.

I did have a reason beyond idle gossip for broaching the subject. It was, of course, always entertaining to watch communists kill each other. Even more so if the pressure we were putting on them by cutting off their Russite money was making them crack. However, a wounded animal was at its most dangerous when pushed into a corner. While the leaders of the communist party seemed content to wait until they had the clear upper hand before they called for a revolution, a leaderless mob of communists could kick up quite a ruckus.

"Well, everybody knows the communists are a bunch of degenerates," I said. "You still need to be careful, though."

The silver lining to the situation was that an angry mob would naturally not be capable of any kind of sophisticated strategy. As long as Elya kept her ear to the ground they shouldn't be able to surprise us. If she really stayed on her game we could even defuse the trouble before it started.

"Honestly," I continued, "I'd rather the communists didn't show up in the paper for a while."

"Understood!" Elya said, nearly straightening into a salute before jotting down a few notes in her notebook.

She did get enthusiastic about the strangest things. Well, talented people were entitled to a few eccentricities. I put the matter out of my mind and turned my attention to the other person in the room.

"How does the speech look, Visha?"

Visha's head popped up from the binder that she had been poring over. She looked at me, then glanced down at the binder, eyes darting back and forth as she skimmed over one last page. Finally she looked up and seemed to brace herself before she spoke.

"Ah, I checked all the facts and figures, they're fine," she said. She hesitated a moment before continuing. "But..."

"What?"

"The speech seems, kind of," she said, searching for the right word, "informal."

That was certainly true. The idea of democracy was still new to Germania, so politicians modeled themselves after the traditional forms of leadership. In other words, they tended to talk like landed nobility. Their speeches announcing government policies tended to be more in the nature of proclamations than any kind of persuasion.

I had no intention to follow that model. I knew that one of the most important tools in a politician's kit was simply to be liked. I would never commission polling on an insipid question like which candidate voters would rather share a beer with, but there was no harm in speaking to voters with respect. I would never truly possess the common touch. The bottom line is that I don't like most people. Still, I could at least try to fake it.

Of course, Visha wasn't such a stickler for propriety that a casual speech would really bother her. I knew she was searching for a polite way to talk around what was really bothering her.

"A little boring, too, compared to the campaign?" I asked.

"Well..." Visha said, not meeting my eyes.

"The medium is the message."

"What?"

"Somebody who comes to a political rally is there for the excitement. The crowd feeds on the energy of the speech and feeds it back as well. People leave with their blood boiling not just because of the words I say, but because of the whole experience," I said. "On the radio, it's more like I've been invited into a home for a polite conversation. The broadcast goes out to a million homes at once, but each audience is in its own separate world. If I tried to give the same speech the same way I would at a crowded bar, I would just sound silly."

Of course, it was still possible to give a rousing speech over the radio. Especially for me, with ample future experience with mass media available as a source of inspiration. The most important change in context, though, was my own. During the campaign I was an outsider happy to shovel red meat out as fast as I could, confident that I would never have to answer for my promises. Now I was in power, and wanted nothing more than to calm down the citizenry.

More bluntly, during the campaign I wanted to rouse my audience to demand more from their government; now I wanted to lull them into complacently accepting less.

"So this new radio style speech," Visha said, "what should it be like?"

"Imagine a guest, sitting at a kitchen table," I said, "politely explaining government policy over a cup of coffee."

"Hmm," Visha said, looking down at the binder once more. "I guess I can see that."

"Good, because it's time for us to go."

It was indeed the appointed hour. The three of us left our seats and headed out of my office. I retrieved my notebook from Visha as we made our way downstairs. Soon we arrived downstairs to find a car waiting for us. The late model sedan had more than enough room for the three of us in the back. Our small motorcade was soon underway.

Even in a relatively impoverished nation, being the boss had some perks. I tried not to become too attached to what were sure to be transient luxuries, but it was nice not to have to walk everywhere.

It was also nice to have the power to order other cars out of the way. We arrived at the broadcast station a little ahead of schedule and headed inside together with a small police escort. In a real fight, of course, our trio of mages would be the ones protecting the police, but they did an adequate job of keeping the public at bay until we reached the door.

Once inside, we headed directly to the studio where the broadcast was to take place. We got there in time to listen as the announcer, a man with a face made for radio, finished reading off the last of the evening news. It took a few minutes, but all too soon I heard my cue.

"As promised, it is now time for this station to deliver a vital message from our leader. It's my honor to introduce Chancellor Tanya von Degurechaff!"

As he spoke I stepped forward to take my place at the table behind the second microphone. At the same time, I did my best to suppress the butterflies that were trying to reappear in my stomach. My earliest efforts at public speaking had involved rallying troops to battle. Back then, the danger of the upcoming fighting had easily overwhelmed my fear of public speaking. When I was out on campaign it was usually in front of small crowds that provided immediate feedback. Despite all of my experience, the idea of simply speaking into a microphone and reaching the whole country-and then continuing to talk with no idea of how my audience liked what I was saying-it was daunting.

Still, there was no way out but through. I'd certainly pushed myself through uncomfortable situations before. All that I had to do was follow the plan. It was with that thought in mind that I took a deep breath, gave my notes one final glance, and began.

"Good evening. I am here today to explain your government's plan to respond to the current financial crisis," I said. My experience came through in keeping my voice smooth, at least, and I felt myself start to relax as I got into the rhythm of the speech. "First of all, the government will be issuing a new currency. The value of each new mark will be set at two trillion paper marks."

Ordinarily, opening a speech with a talk about currency valuation was a good way to get the audience to tune out. These weren't ordinary times, though. With the mark's value plummeting by the day any hint of an inflation-fighting plan should have my listeners glued to their seats.

"Fortunately, while our enemies looted our stores of gold and silver, our country was blessed with too much coal for even the greediest foreign army to carry away," I continued. "The new currency will be backed by an appropriate amount of coal. At the very least, exchanging the new marks for coal will be a more efficient way to heat your home than simply setting paper marks on fire."

Due to the one way nature of broadcast communication, I couldn't see the crowd's reaction to my joke. I doubted that one was getting any more than a polite chuckle, though, so I continued on after only a brief pause. It didn't take too long to explain some of the practicalities surrounding the change of currency. I also explained that government policy in the future would place keeping inflation under control as one of its primary objectives.

It was, as Visha had noticed, a rather sedate presentation, but I felt the speech was serving its purpose. My Minister of Finance had identified two problems that worked together to fuel hyperinflation: first, the actual loss of value in the mark, and second, the fact that everybody expected the mark to continue to lose value. We could fight the actual loss of value by printing a mineral-backed currency. Changing people's expectations would require a war of public perception. This speech was the opening salvo in that war.

Once I felt I had gotten my point across, I switched to the second topic of the evening.

"Of course, a strong Germania must be built on the foundation of a strong economy. And a strong economy must be built on the twin pillars of a sound currency and a strong banking system," I said. "I've already discussed our efforts to strengthen the mark. Now I would like to take a moment to discuss the government's plans to improve our regulation of Germania's banks."

The financial regulations in Germania were extremely light, even after the Great War. Traditionally, banks were kept in check by consideration of their reputations and the need to stay on the good side of society's upper crust. The upheaval caused by losing the war had loosened many of the traditional constraints. I intended to have the government step in and clamp down on risky behavior before things could get too far out of hand.

While I was still a bit miffed at being forced to grant the banks the great boon of loan revaluation, there was a silver lining. It would have been very difficult to outright impose onerous new regulations on the banking system, given my coalition partners. Framing many of the new regulations as conditions to participate in the revaluation and in the voluntary deposit insurance system allowed me to do an end around any Reichstag obstruction. I was happy to use any tool available to me to disaster-proof our banking system.

There was almost certainly a major depression on the way, after all. It would have been nice to use my knowledge of the future to predict the market and earn a major profit. Unfortunately, the current situation was just different enough from my previous life that I couldn't predict the timing of the crash with any certainty. Playing the market would only pay off if I was lucky, and in a world with Being X I refused to rely on luck. The best that I could do was to try to build breakwaters to protect against the coming flood.

Of course, my audience was not likely to be interested in the nitty gritty of banking regulation. I briefly described how deposit insurance would work, reiterated my claim that Germania's banking system would soon be the finest in the world, and moved on to my final topic.

"Finally, I am pleased to announce that the newly formed Department of Public Works will be pursuing a series of projects to unleash the potential of the Germanian people," I said. "These projects will provide a living wage to anybody who is willing and able to work hard to help build our country's new foundation."

Sometimes I felt like a bit of a failure as a time traveler. I hadn't introduced any new inventions that would allow me to change the world or even just get rich. Really, though, I thought my failure mostly came down to bad luck. By the turn of the twentieth century technology had advanced pretty far already. A layman's understanding of gunpowder wasn't enough to spark off a revolution the way it would have been in Roman times. On the other hand, at least I had been born into a world that already had flush toilets.

Besides the relatively limited distance of my journey back in time, there was the fact that I wasn't an engineer by trade. I knew how to use modern technology, but for the most part I was unable to build it. Unfortunately, a working knowledge of Excel macros just wasn't much use in my new life.

My surprise election to the Chancellorship had offered me the chance to save a bit of face as a man from the future. While I didn't know how to build a road or hook up an electrical line, I did know what a country with modern infrastructure looked like. While government projects were inherently wasteful, at least I could make sure that the major projects that we built would be useful once they were complete. Some day the country might even thank me for improving the roads and electrical system, although more likely everybody would take such things for granted once they were built.

The immediate purpose of those projects, of course, was to put men to work. It wasn't a sustainable method to reduce unemployment. A government that tries to spend money in order to fuel the economy will find over the long run that it's trying to fill a hole with no bottom. For my purposes, though, the payoff was much simpler: young men who were busy building roads were young men with no time for revolution.

"And so the government intends to exert itself to the utmost in order to provide a sound currency, a healthy banking system, and modern infrastructure," I concluded. "If the people stand together, Germania will once more stand as the jewel of the world!"

I did not mention the Francois in any but the most oblique terms. The speech as a whole didn't touch on one bit of foreign policy. All I did was talk about how my domestic plans would help the people of Germania.

I could have tried to explain why I was adopting a passive stance towards our neighbors. I could have tried to explain the foolishness of invading the Francois Republic. I could have tried to justify my change of heart. I could have done those things, if I were helplessly naive.

As a politician intent on breaking her campaign promise, the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to my deception. Instead, I intended to keep the people occupied with other things until my pledge to destroy the Francois faded from common memory. Eventually, should anybody dare to bring it up, I could brazenly dismiss my perfidy as old news.

Deceiving the public was a sin, but in the end I thought it was a reasonable thing to do in exchange for peace in our time.

For the next six months I largely maintained a low profile and focused my energy on making sure that the rollout of my domestic initiatives proceeded smoothly. Somewhat to my surprise, everything went exactly according to plan.

My speech received mixed reviews from the nation's newspapers. Our polling, though, showed that the speech caused a significant increase in public confidence in my handling of the economy. This result was further confirmed as the new currency went in to circulation. By and large the people seemed willing to treat the new mark as if it were as good as gold. Or, I suppose, coal.

Inflation wasn't completely stopped in its tracks, of course, but compared to the situation at the time of the election it was as different as night and day. Any sophisticated calculation of our nation's economic well being would no doubt show us lagging behind the rest of Europe, let alone the height of the Empire. When a nation had been bracing itself for a fall into the abyss, though, any sort of improvement would be well-received.

The new banking regulations went into effect more or less unremarked. The overwhelming majority of banks bought into deposit insurance and made the corresponding changes in their operations, which included opening their books for inspection by regulators. Nothing dramatic happened as a result, but I held out hope that the changes would show their value in the next economic crisis.

The public works projects did their job, picking young men up out of unemployment and keeping them busy all day. It was too early for the projects themselves to show their value, but the secondary effects were already being felt. With the work force being paid in cash and traveling all around the country, together with the usual spending habits of young men, the devolution of the countryside into the barter system was already beginning to reverse itself. Cash was beginning to circulate through the country in a reasonable facsimile of a healthy economy.

Things were going so well that the communists didn't even make a nuisance of themselves. I thought they would cause a ruckus when the final sentences were pronounced on those leaders who had collaborated with foreign agents, but it went by without a murmur of protest. I expected that our public projects had stolen some of their thunder, but the complete lack of response was a surprise. It was almost as if the whole communist leadership apparatus had disappeared. I could only surmise that the foreign corruption had run deeper than we realized, leading the commies to flee in fear of further investigation.

All in all, I felt pretty good about the future when I sent out the official notice that we would not be able to make our scheduled payment and that, per the Treaty of Triano, we were calling for a meeting in order to discuss how to remedy the situation. As the heir to sixty years of modern development when it came to stifling bureaucracy, I felt confident in my ability to tie those primitive yahoos up for at least a month or two with paperwork alone.

Things were finally looking up.

ooOoo

President Mirande was scowling when General Weygande entered his office. As a man who had held on to his job through the ongoing post-war culling of the military, Weygande knew better than to say anything and risk drawing his superior's ire. Instead he simply stood at parade rest and waited for Mirande to break the silence.

"You've heard of this... travesty."

The missive the President indicated was a document that Weygande hadn't seen before, but he well knew what it contained. He felt his blood heating up in anger at just the thought of it. Those Imperial dogs were meant to be held down by the Treaty of Triano. The document may as well have been written with the blood of the many, many Francois soldiers who had made the ultimate sacrifice during the war. For the Devil to think to use it to bind the hands of the Francois themselves was an unforgivable insult.

What are your orders?"

Instead of answering him directly, Mirande studied his face for a long moment before answering his question with a question. "How many troops would you need in order to make your way through Germania and do as you please? Would the 32nd corps be enough?"

"That..." Weygande began, before catching himself. The 32nd corps boasted 20,000 infantry together with supporting brigades of armor, air, artillery, and aerial mages. On paper, the Germanians had nothing to oppose the "four As" of modern combat, and their army was too small to be able to triumph by way of human wave tactics. It was a force that should indeed let him act as he pleased... and yet, he still felt a prickling on the back of his neck at the thought of simply nodding in agreement.

"If I'm to beard the Devil on her home ground," Weygande said, "some additional aerial mage support would not go amiss."

"You shall have it."

General Weygande nodded. Even if the Devil of the Rhine was hiding some trick up her sleeve, there was a limit to the forces she could possibly have at her command. The Empire had always boasted of top notch aerial mages, and the Devil had come up through that branch of the service. It wasn't out of the question that she could possess some clandestine combat orbs. Still, with an overwhelming weight of aerial mage numbers on his side, Weygande felt confident he could wear down even the Devil in time. "What am I to do, exactly?"

"What else do you do when somebody refuses to pay their debts?" Mirande asked. "March over there and take what we're owed."