A Little Rebellion

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“Things are even worse on Columbia.” Will Thomson stood in front of a small group of locals, farmers and business owners, mostly. He was tall with short brown hair, and he had a scar on the left side of his face that multiple skin regens had shrunken but failed to entirely eliminate. He stood almost rigid, as if at attention, despite the constant ache in his leg, and he spoke clearly and deliberately. “They’ve had a federally-appointed Planetary Advisor since before the war ended. The planet is a powderkeg, and there are rumors that some type of Federal garrison is going to be sent there.” Will was ex-military, which would have been obvious from his bearing, even if everyone present hadn’t already known him. Almost half the men and women in the room had been Marines, including old Silas Hampton, who’d fought way back in the First Frontier War. Once a Marine always a Marine. Silas even taught a class at the Academy…that is when we wasn’t trying to grow a tarter, firmer apple on his spread north of Concordia.

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