Martian Balance
Copyright© 2025 by rlfj
Epilogue
Lecture Hall 7212
Eden University, Eden, Mars
Monday, April 6, 2235
Harlow Winslow looked around the lecture hall. It was his first day in college since he had graduated from the WestHem Naval Academy in Departure City. His MPI handlers, Josh Alexander and Hannigan Hotsmoke, had told him they could arrange for him to go back to school and get a better job than driving a dozer and collecting garbage outside of New Pittsburgh. Harlow was going to take classes in logistics and transportation. With a little luck, he could get a job with MarsTrans. He still needed to work to pay for something more than a basic apartment and stipend, but they had put in a good word with Eden U, and he had a part-time job in one of the school’s lunch bistros. A free lunch or dinner would help him stretch his paycheck.
College was different than on Earth, and very different in Eden. While Hotsmoke had once claimed that half the women in Eden ran around naked, Harlow’s personal unscientific survey said it was maybe a quarter of the women. He wasn’t going to complain. He had been intrigued by the idea, and when assured that Eden University was actually a top-notch school, said he wanted to try it. Harlow was in decent physical shape himself, and a good diet and excellent medical care had him buff and toned. That was good, he thought, since the women walking around the university were very good looking.
Like the young woman who sat down next to him in the lecture hall. She was blonde, blue-eyed, deficient of hair below her eyebrows, and wearing nothing but comfortable shoes and a large shoulder bag. It was a good look, he thought. She was of average height, with an hourglass figure, and a fantastic smile. “Hello. I’m Shanice,” she said, sticking out her hand.
“I’m Harlow.” He shook her hand. It was warm and inviting, and she held his hand a bit longer than necessary.
“You’re from WestHem, aren’t you?”
Harlow smiled. He just hoped nobody would give him any grief about the war. “It was the accent that gave me away, right? I got here a few months ago.”
“Cool. Listen, after class, a few of us are meeting for lunch. Come with me. You can tell us all about WestHem. Maybe we can get a drink later ... or something...”
“I’d like that.” Harlow hadn’t been with a woman since being arrested in Kansas. Even before getting grabbed by the MPI, he had been saving his money, so he could get a different apartment. Just like on Earth, women cost money.
Shanice flashed that amazing smile again. Eden University looked like a great place to get a well-rounded education.
Triad Commercial Dock Control Room
Triad Naval Base, Mars Orbit
Wednesday, April 15, 2235
It was the final element of the ceasefire, the docking of the first empty WestHem freighter to the Triad Commercial Docks. EastHem freighters had been welcomed back two days after the ceasefire had been proposed by WestHem and agreed to by Mars at the end of March. The first two WestHem ships were AgriCorp Wonder and AgriCorp Traveler, the freighters which had been docked at Triad loading food when the war began. They were allowed to dock and resume loading.
Not so lucky was Captain Hotaling of the AgriCorp Brilliance. Irritated by his arrogance and attitude, the Martian Navy had blown a hole in the side of his ship and forced him to back off from docking. Instead, Hotaling was required to take his ship back to Earth empty. Mars wasn’t going to repair it and Hotaling was placed on the banned list, unable to return to Mars in any capacity. AgriCorp promptly fired him and let Mars know.
“Welcome to Mars,” said Captain Homer Samuels to the image on his console.
“Thank you,” said the skipper of the Agricorp Wonder. “It’s good to be back. You guys are looking a little more relaxed these days.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t recall hammocks being standard Triad Commercial Dock equipment.”
Samuels looked over his shoulder and realized the night supervisor, Lieutenant Commander Greenbud Smith, was lazing in a hammock, and was in the visual pickup frame. He turned back and said, “Been a few changes.”
Smith simply laughed.
Bridge
MSS Bitchslap, Mars Orbit
Friday, May 8, 2235
Commander Henry Dildonics surveyed his new command. Bitchslap was a new construction Raptor-class stealth ship. She had been finishing construction when the war started, and Dildonics had been the Executive Officer of Aardvark during the attack on Ceres. Quite a few execs were being promoted; over the next few years several dozen new Beltings and Raptors would be coming off Phobos’ and Rhea’s assembly lines. Smiling in satisfaction, he turned to his exec, Lieutenant Commander Josiah Godly, late of MSS Hypnotits. Throughout the fleet, tactical officers were being promoted to execs, and execs were being promoted to captains. Some were being rushed through a quick familiarization course to learn their new commands.
“Josiah, let’s take her out. The admiral promised us a week to blow the rust off before we have to escort a tanker to Saturn.”
“You got it, Skipper! Sounds like fun! I just hope I remember what all these buttons and screens are for.”
“Well, you must have seen a few of them on Hypnotits. With a little luck, maybe you saw what your old boss was doing and can fake it,” said Dildonics.
“Maybe they can send a tug along with us, for when we break the training wheels.”
“I love your optimism. Make it happen, Josiah. Make it fucking happen.”
Office of the Chairperson
London, EastHem
Tuesday, May 12, 2235
Amelia Westerhaus, Chairperson of the Democratic Republic of the Eastern Hemisphere’s Executive Council, was meeting with her head of Military Intelligence. Vice Admiral Le Chevalier Anton Leblanc had been tasked with figuring out what was going on with WestHem and the Martians. She had received a lengthy report from the Ambassador to Mars, Jonathan Wilson, and the EastHem Foreign Office had talked to the Martian Ambassador, Caroline Dicklover.
Those reports had been both illuminating and infuriating. Martians had a reputation for blunt and rude truthfulness. What they said was true, but they often just kept their mouths shut when asked questions they didn’t want to answer. The reports had been sent to Military Intelligence for corroboration. They would take what they learned from the Martians and compare it to what their spies in WestHem could tell them.
“Chevalier Leblanc, welcome. Have a seat, please. Would you care for coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please.”
Westerhaus tapped her phone. “Two coffees, please.” The Chairperson and the Admiral made polite but unimportant conversation for a few minutes until a secretary brought in a tray with coffee, cream, and sugar. A second secretary carried in cups and saucers. They set them down on a coffee table between them and then retired. The Admiral poured two cups and then put cream and sugar in his; the Chairperson took hers straight.
“So, Admiral, what have you discovered? It seems we had a war and didn’t know about it until it was almost over.”
Leblanc gave a wry smile and nodded. “I can’t really argue with that. Here’s what we’ve figured out. The Martians say that Ares Alexander decided to get into the space piracy business. They got WestHem to give Ares Alexander a bunch of old Owls and rebuilt them. No missiles, lasers only. They also took an old shipyard and some late model Seattles. They were almost a hundred years old and were hopelessly obsolete. Still, they managed to surprise and capture a hydrogen tanker. They also made a run on one of our ships and we blew them away. We aren’t sure, but we think they were going for a different Martian tanker, but their timing was off. We can’t find any reason they went after a cruise ship. Maybe they thought anything that big had to be a tanker or freighter. We might never know.”
“What in the world did they expect to get from this insanity?” asked Westerhaus.
Leblanc simply shook his head. “No idea. It obviously failed. Yes, they got a tanker full of hydrogen but that’s it. The Martians reacted just like you would expect, by beginning an escort program. Sending a pirate ship against an escorted convoy is just an excellent technique to commit suicide. What the Martians did next just made the whole idea a massive loser.”
“So, what exactly did Mars do in response? My understanding is they ran rampant through Earth’s orbitals with nobody catching on. How is that possible?”