Summer on New Delaware is hot, windy. The soil is far from rich, and there is little water to spare. Working the crops is hard, even with the machinery. We in the First Wave understand that.
But it has to be done. One bad harvest could spell disaster. If the second and third wave workers were allowed the freedoms they demand, the colony could fail. We could all starve.
The responsibilities of leadership weigh heavily on our shoulders. Decisions once made have to be adhered to. We will brook no disobedience. Our patience is thin, and our weaponry is orbital.
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