“I just heard from Dawson.” They were completely alone on the rocky promontory, but Marek still spoke softly, his voice touched with sadness. “They have solid intel from the Planetary Advisor’s office.” The Advisor was a federal official, ostensibly sent to provide support and assistance to the local government in the rebuilding. Recently, however, the advisory office had been growing, with more personnel arriving from Earth, and they had begun interfering in numerous areas, frequently overriding local authority. The Columbians looked to Alliance Gov for defense, and they were willing to pay their share of the cost, mostly in the form of exceedingly valuable raw materials. But they had no patience for bureaucrats from Earth interfering in how they lived and worked.
“Is it happening?” Anton looked at his feet as he spoke. “Are they really doing it?” The Columbians had been resisting many of the dictates of the Advisor’s office, and for the last year there had been a series of protests and incidents of civil disobedience, each followed by reprisals and greater restrictions. The cycle had begun to feed off itself, and the intensity had been increasing on both sides. It had been rumored for months that the Federals would make some type of move to enforce Alliance Gov authority, though exactly what that would be had remained the topic of speculation.
“I’m afraid so, my friend.” Marek’s tone was still sad, though now there was a hint of anger as well. “And it is worse than we feared. The planetary militia is to be disarmed and disbanded.” He paused, a look of disgust on his face. “Worse, all citizens will be required to receive implants.” The DNA-coded spinal data chips were mandatory on Earth, implanted in everyone shortly after birth. Introduced a century before under the premise of public safety and enhanced emergency services, the devices gave the government a practical way to track every citizen. The devices could be removed surgically or disabled by a targeted radiation burst, but both processes were highly illegal on Earth. Colonial immigrants usually had theirs removed, however, and those born on the frontier never got one to begin with. The entire idea of being tracked 24/7 was anathema to colonial culture.
There was considerable distrust of all governmental authority in the colonies, and a heavy emphasis on self-reliance and freedom was infused in the culture. The settlers had faced serious obstacles in building their new worlds, and they’d done it largely on their own, often paying a heavy price in lives and hardship in the early years. Most of them had been square pegs on Earth anyway, the small minority who chafed under a repressive way of life that most meekly accepted.
Anton said nothing, but his face communicated his thoughts clearly. Anger, disgust, determination were all there to see in the scowl he wore. Marek turned to face his friend, his own expression grim. “There’s more too. Registration of all business transactions, new laws and regulations, heavier taxation. All for our own good, of course.” He paused, taking a short breath. “It is worse than we feared, far worse.”
“So it’s finally here.” Anton’s voice was grim, his eyes downcast. “The choice.” He paused, staring out over the sea. “We knew it was coming. They’re going to try to turn the colonies into copies of Earth.” His voice grew louder, more defiant. “And we all need to make our decision. Do we surrender our rights, our freedoms? A lifetime to find them; do we let them slip away, be stolen from us?” There was bitterness in his tone now, old hatreds from a youth spent in misery and deprivation. “Do we live out our lives begging for scraps from our political masters?” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Or do we fight? The time for delay, for prevarication is past. We all know that talk won’t solve this.” His faced hardened as he continued, the pleasant expression of the civilian factory owner giving way, hardening, leaving in its stead the icy cold resolve of the veteran platoon sergeant in battle. “My choice is made, John. If they mean to have a war, let it begin here. Let Columbia lead the way.”
Marek looked into Anton’s frozen eyes and felt his own anger, his own terrible resolution building. He too appreciated the freedoms he now had but had never known before, and he wasn’t going to surrender them…ever. “And mine also, Lucius. I am with you.” He paused then continued, no longer concerned about the volume of his voice. “And the others too. We are all resolved together. We are one in this.” He reached out and put his hand on Anton’s shoulder. “And we must act. Tonight.”
Arlen Cooper sat at his desk, his head cradled in his hands. He took two analgesics to back up the pair he’d taken an hour before. He didn’t expect much; painkillers didn’t seem to have any effect on the headaches these colonials caused. Cooper had been a ward chief, essentially the political supervisor of a housing block in the Manhattan Protected Zone. A Political Academy graduate, he’d followed in his parents’ footsteps as a low-level member of the privileged class, but his prospects hadn’t extended much beyond being a local bully and keeping the engineers and accountants in line. Not until he was offered the chance to become Planetary Advisor to one of the colony worlds.
The upper classes on Earth looked at the colonies with utter disdain, and no highly-placed Politician was likely to accept a posting in space. When the decision was made to station federal watchdogs on the colonies, the only way the authorities could find enough candidates was to make offers to lower level functionaries like Cooper. Accepting a position on a frontier world became a path to advancement, the only one he was likely to see, so Cooper had jumped at the chance when it was offered.
Cooper had been an effective ward chief on Earth, with just enough sadistic arrogance to really enjoy it. His job was mostly about maintaining order, and he had all the tools a bully needed to ply his trade. In New York, he just had to threaten to revoke a work permit or residency license, and he’d instill all the fear he needed to gain the desired compliance. He particularly enjoyed the look of terror in the eyes of those who drew his attention, as they realized he could easily have them cast out of the Protected Zone to live among the Cogs, eking out a meager existence in the crumbling wreckage of the slums. He’d used that fear to punish anyone who got out of line for sure, but he hadn’t been shy about employing the same tools for a little blackmail. He had bullied his share of bribes to supplement his income, as well as more than a few sexual favors.
He smiled wickedly, remembering one woman in particular who’d caught his eye. It wasn’t that she was a great beauty…she wasn’t. But she seemed so scared, so vulnerable. He’d threatened to have her husband and children expelled, going so far as to have the orders drawn up so she could see them. She resisted at first, but in the end she had no choice, and she gave in. She cried through the whole thing, at least the first time or two, though he used her so often that by the end she was totally emotionless. When he finally tired of her and told her she didn’t have to come back, she thanked him again and again. He’d abused her terribly for months, and when he stopped, she was so relieved all she could do was thank him. That was the part he loved the most. He watched her leave, broken inside but thinking she’d saved her family at least. He grinned as he pulled the expulsion order up on his ‘pad and, with a malicious laugh, approved it with a single thumbprint.
But that was on Earth. Here he didn’t have the power he’d enjoyed so much at home, and the colonists weren’t so easily intimidated. He’d been ignored by them mostly, though some of the less restrained residents suggested he go fuck himself. A few even offered some colorful suggestions that featured far greater specificity. He raged against their insolence, but he lacked the power to do anything about it. At least he had until now.