Every eye in the now-silent room focused on Will. "I grew up in the South Philly Flats." Will was understanding of her concerns, of those of everyone in the room, but he was also a little annoyed. He was very fond of Kara, but she really had no idea what it was like to have nothing. "I ate rats, Kara. I didn’t learn to read until the Corps taught me when I was nineteen. When did you learn to read?” He paused slightly, but didn’t wait for an answer. “My father died when I was eleven because he had no medical priority rating and couldn't afford a few credits for the medicine he needed. I brought him cups of the putrid yellow water we got from our faucet and begged him to take a sip. I watched him coughing up blood, dying in agony for the lack of a few injections." His usual calm was cracking slightly. These were things he'd rarely talked about…with anyone. Things he kept buried deep, locked away in a dark place in his mind. "Do you think I don't know what it is like to have nothing?"
His impassioned speech silenced the room. They were feeling different things - shock, sympathy, shame. Some of them, mostly second or third generation colonists, had never experienced the type of deprivation he described. But many, the veterans and others who'd come from the lower classes on Earth themselves, had their own versions of this story. They'd experienced firsthand living on the wrong end of a system of total government domination, and they would do whatever it took to make sure that didn’t happen to them again…or to their friends and neighbors and children.
"I know just what life is like on Earth for most people. Is that what you want out here? Is that the life you want for your children, your grandchildren? To be slaves? Because that is what the Cogs are…slaves." His voice was rising as he became more emotional. "Do you think that can't happen here? It happened on Earth. It happened because people allowed it, because they let fear rule them. Because they wouldn't stand up and defend what was truly important. Because they sold their freedom cheaply and were cheated by the very people they elected to lead them. Because they stood up and said, if we resist we may lose what he have." Every eye in the room was glued to him. He looked out over the hall, his body tense as he gripped the edges of the podium. "If we do the same we will certainly lose all we have, and we will throw away man's chance at redemption.” He paused, moving his head slowly, looking out over everyone in the room. “And it will be our fault, the generations of suffering and deprivation that follow.”
Kara sat in her chair, watching Will in shocked silence, her mind adrift in wildly forming thoughts. She wasn’t yet sure if theirs was a great love story or not, but she was very fond of the grumpy ex-Marine. She’d sat and happily listened to him drone on for hours about grapevines and savage battles, each with the same enthusiasm, but she’d never heard him speak like this before. She imagined him, this man she cared so much for, as a child, scrounging in the gutter for food, hiding from the Gangs, and her heart ached. She thought of the children he’d mentioned, children she didn’t even have yet, living in such squalor, enduring each day with utter hopelessness. Determination suddenly coalesced in her mind, and her view of the future, of what was needed, became clear. Finally, she stood, turning to face as many of those seated in the room as she could.
“You are right, Will.” She spoke, slowly, deliberately, struggling to hold back the wave of tears she could feel building. Her voice was thin and soft, but firm. “What I said was hasty…and wrong. Our world is ours, and we must do whatever we can to insure it stays ours.” She stood and turned to face the others. “It is freedom that is precious, not possessions. I am fortunate; I have never faced the challenges that many of you have. Yet I can appreciate that I have something that hundreds of millions on Earth cannot imagine.”
She slowly walked up to the front of the room and stood next to Will. “The people on Earth were once faced with a dilemma such as this. We may hate and despise them for their weakness, for allowing the government to steal their freedoms, for bequeathing to those who followed them the hideous perversion the Alliance has become.” Her voice was louder now. She understood, she finally understood completely. “But such choices are rarely stark ones, nor are they likely to be obvious when they present themselves. I might easily have made that same error, to have chosen the illusion of security promised by inaction.” She looked out over her assembled neighbors. “But it is only an illusion. Were it not for Will’s words today I might not have realized. There are no safe choices, only true ones and false ones.”
She turned and looked right at Will as she continued, her moist eyes boring into his. “Will is right; we must act now. He must not allow our freedoms to be stolen, slowly, imperceptibly until one day we realize they are gone.” She turned to face the rest of the room, every eye riveted on her. “I will pledge myself to this cause, and stake all I have - wealth, blood, breath – to it.”
The room was silent, every eye upon her. They had all known Kara for years, and she was respected and well-liked. Now they were seeing a strength none had ever witnessed. “But I am not enough. Will is not enough. We must all stand together or we shall all be defeated. Concordia must be united, and we must join with the rest of the planet…with all of the colony worlds. Now we must draw a line and make our stand. This far and no farther.” She thrust her arm into the air. “Will you stand with us, Arcadians?”
Kyle Warren was the first to his feet. “Yes! I am with you.” He turned and looked around the room. “Arcadians?”
It began slowly, and Will never knew who was the first. One voice joined and then another and another, until everyone there was chanting. “No farther, no farther!”
Chapter 2
Sarah Linden rolled over, pulling the covers up to her chin with a shiver. Her arm reached out, feeling the empty space in the bed next to her. She looked groggily at the disheveled blankets and the crumpled, sweat-soaked pillow laying on the floor. Her eyes focused slowly in the faint predawn light, and it was a few seconds before she realized he was gone. The door was half open and the cool morning breeze was coming in off the ocean. No wonder it’s so cold in here, she thought.
She slid slowly out of bed, grasping for the silk robe draped over the chair. The room was large, maybe six meters by ten, stylishly furnished in a slightly nautical theme. There was a large hearth at the far end of the room, a few barely glowing embers all that remained of the roaring fire from the night before. Tying the belt on her robe, she walked toward the door and out onto the balcony.
Erik Cain was standing along the edge, hands on the railing, looking out over the ocean below. His eyes were fixed, watching the waves ripple in at the base of the low cliff just below the balcony. He didn’t notice her walking up behind him, and he jumped slightly when she put her hand gently on his back. His skin was cold and clammy, covered with a thin sheen of sweat despite the chilly dawn air. She could feel the tension begin to slip away just a bit; her touch usually relaxed him, at least a little.
He turned his head and gave her a little smile. “Did I wake you?” His hair was a tangled mess and she stifled a small laugh as she reached up and neatened it just a bit.
“No, I’m used to you thrashing around by now.” She stood next to him, moving her hand softly across his back. “I woke up and saw you were up.” She looked out over the ocean. The sun was just starting to rise, a hazy yellow semicircle coming up over the sea, the soft light dancing off rippling waves. “But I thought I might be able to lure you back to bed.”