Broad Sheet

Chapter One

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Morgan is so far out as a fringe world that it took the landing of an Imperial occupation vessel to tell us that the rebellion failed.

I watched the triangle shaped vessel block the sun from the front porch of my dry goods store, leaning on the broom handle as I took a break from sweeping.

Military occupation force for a planet that boasted three hundred and fifty thousand inhabitances. Overkill, but no one asked me.

There are some places in the universe so far out that anarchy looks no different than daily life. It descends as overkill, in a world where Pier, the largest 'city', if you could call it that, boasted one thousand people in the last census.

Since I miscarried my last pregnancy, and my husband was killed in a bar brawl over ten yen two months ago, the population shrank since the last official count.

Mrs. Bart brought in her weekly basket of eggs. Two dozen brown beauties, some covered in little brown freckles. I gave her half a yen a dozen.

Black uniformed troopers carrying Bell 4-9s marched down the street.

"Somehow, I don't think my Cooper is coming home," Mrs. Bart said.

Her only son; I'd been fond of the younger man myself. If I were a couple years younger than my 32, and not a married woman.

Mrs. Bart looked at me. "Have you heard from your sister, Kash?"

"No," I said, counting out her yen.

Out of nine kids, my parents only had two girls. I was born third of nine, she was born seventh.

I married Steven at 18 to keep from raising anymore of my siblings. Not that it did me any good.

I got pregnant right away, and had been pregnant just about every year since, but failed more often than not to carry a pregnancy through. Okay. Every pregnancy failed.

Doctors told me it had something to do with the planet's terraforming flaw. Every terraformed world had a flaw of some kind. It couldn't be helped or predicted what the flaw would take.

I carried one pregnancy until 26 weeks and held my dying baby because the doctor was too chicken shit to save her. Two more made it to 35 weeks and were still born stillborn. I knew the loss of a child all too well.

Geena signed up for the rebellion. Left the world with the clothes on her back and promise from our father that if she came back, she wouldn't be welcomed back.

I'd like to say I didn't know why, except that the Transformed had quickly become the dominate religion on Morgan. I was rebellious enough because I stayed sober most of the time to actually run my husband's 'business' – and I did it better than he could run it sober. To say I wasn't a fan of the Transformed lifestyle is an understatement.

Two of the soldiers burst through the open door.

"By order of Colonel Townsend, you are hereby ordered to shut your business down until further notice," the young guard on the right said.

"Kiss my ass," I said, handing Mrs. Bart her money.

The young soldier clearly had never been talked to that way, and certainly didn't expect any sort of rebellion out of anyone in Pier.

Mrs. Bart put her right hand over her heart, like I'd offended her, but seeing as I have heard worse come out of the sweet old lady's mouth, I knew I hadn't.

"Excuse me? This planet is occupied."

"And the only one here flashing his weapon around is you," I said, putting my hand on my hip. "Welcome to Pier, by the way. We're not the capital of Morgan, but we certainly are bigger than anywhere else. And I have deliveries coming in today."

"Any incoming transports are being grounded and unable to unload their cargo. You are to shut down until further notice," the officer repeated.

"Kiss. My. Ass."

The man moved to grab the handcuffs on his waistband. "We are placing you under arrest for insurrection."

"No, you are not," I said.

The man gaped his mouth like he was a baby bird.

"I'm the only dry goods store in Pier. I supply most of the tools, fabric, and food for the whole one-thousand-mile surrounding area," I said. "Your colonel wants me to shut down, he will walk his little tight ass booty into my shop and inform me myself. And believe me, it won't be without a fight."

The gaping bird-faced officer turned on his heel and walked back out. He stopped; his partner equally confused beside him. Then he turned back around and walked back into my shop.

"By order of Colonel -."

"Shut up and get out," I said. I turned my attention back to Mrs. Bart. "You need your weekly order?"

"Yes, my dear," she said. She leaned over. "When you start breaking out the four-letter words, let me know. I will pop some sorghum and watch the show."

I winked at her.