“I think it’s a matter of balance,” I reply. “Earth Humans acted recklessly, obsessed with profit, indifferent to their own kind and other living species. But on the other end of the spectrum, these colonists have endured extreme conditions—and on top of that, they’ve been subject to what I’d call arbitrary and somewhat excessive restrictions.”
“I’ve had time to talk this over with Prax these past few days,” Pherebos chimes in. “Why has this people been punished for so long for the sins of their ancestors?”
The Admiral presses his lips together, visibly uneasy.
“I have to admit, I didn’t realize how many of those countless restrictions—put in place when the first colonists arrived—were never repealed, or even eased. To be fair, my predecessor believed he was doing the right thing. I mean, if a civilization is capable of slowly killing a magnificent planet… would they do the same to a newly terraformed one? That was the question at the time. The infamous Pact I reviewed yesterday lays out a long list of prohibitions. Too long, probably. So, what are your suggestions?”
“I propose Mars be treated no longer as a Terran colony, but as a planet like any other. Its existence is already known far and wide. Of course, it will still need a Confederation unit for monitoring and support. Other terraformed planets welcome multiple species without discrimination. Why not allow that here too?”
“To protect the local fauna and prevent uncontrolled expansion across the surface of this world,” he counters.
“That’s not incompatible,” I reply.
“Fair point. Go on…”
“I propose giving residents access to proper communication systems, as well as the full range of artistic and technical works from other worlds.”
The Admiral grimaces slightly at the mention of technical works—which I can understand—but gestures for me to continue.
“Transportation: right now, the colonists only have access to ancient snowmobiles, which severely limits inter-regional travel. Give them self-recharging airbikes—it’ll save time and improve efficiency.”
He nods and starts jotting things down, then looks back at me, eyebrows raised, daring me to go on.
I clear my throat and press forward.
“The Pact prohibits killing, but it says nothing about how to handle colonists who break the rules. This community is mostly peaceful and well-meaning, made up of citizens who respect the laws and social norms. Conflicts should be resolved through mediation. But when crimes or serious disputes arise, there needs to be some kind of arbitration force to maintain order and protect the people. That needs to be addressed.”
We spend another solid two hours listing all the organizational failures and daily frustrations. Kiran and Neela, as colonists, are the most measured. Pherebos, Ileana, and I—intergalactic travelers who’ve passed through many terraformed bases—have no shortage of ideas.
In the end, a revised version of the Pact will be submitted to the Martian population. More resources, greater flexibility, but with enough safeguards to keep this young and fragile world on a healthy and balanced path.
Once the meeting wraps up, Ileana, Neela, Kiran, Wingo, Pherebos, and I head back to the Prianka, the ship that brought us here, to return to Cydonia.
We land near Kiran’s house. For once, he stays serious and focused—even during the flight back. The moment the ramp lowers, he bolts straight toward his wife without a single glance back. Clearly, the Human didn’t enjoy his little trip into space.
Pherebos drops my lovely Human and me off before landing in a nearby clearing. I don’t invite them to join us—because all I want right now is to be alone with Neela and fully enjoy being whole again.
As we step into her housing unit, we find Pallas, who’s spent the entire time calmly waiting in the garden next to the house. We pet and feed him before he finally curls up and falls asleep.
At last—alone with my mate.
Unfortunately, judging by the worried look on my beautiful Human’s face, this is not the time for any steamy reunion. At least, not for her.
Disheartened, I flop onto the sofa and wait for her to speak her mind.
“What are we going to do now?” she asks.
“Well,” I start, “I was thinking I’d take off your clothes and—”
“No!” she cuts me off. “You know that’s not what I meant. What are you going to do? Are you leaving with the Admiral? Or with Ileana?”
“Ileana? Why on earth would I leave with Pherebos and Ileana?”
“I thought…” she begins, then trails off, her eyes darting away.
“You thought what?”
“That you were in love with her,” she blurts out, her voice pained.
