Although the air is breathable and Mars is now habitable, I marvel at how the red planet hasn't changed its character despite human civilization. The day is ending, and the reddish-pink skyline is giving way to a faint blue as the sun sinks beneath the horizon. Even here, under glass domes and artificial skies, the sunsets feel ancient.The air is rich with smells—each street saturated with spices from different regions back on Earth. It’s a reminder that people came here in fragments of culture, trying to stitch old lives into a new world.Pedestrians push past in a hurry. “Excuse me!” I say after bumping shoulders with a woman. She doesn’t turn, doesn’t apologize—just keeps moving. Everyone’s trying to squeeze in a little more life before the temperature drops.The evening here is still hot. Excess carbon dioxide keeps the heat pressed close to the ground, even after sunset. Shops stretch the length of the boardwalk—open stalls, robotic vendors, flickering signs. Electric vehicles h

Three large space choppers kicked up Martian dust as they touched down in the Outlands. The harsh wind carried the fine red particles in swirls. Jarek, now officially part of the exploration team, stood beside the cargo with a wide stance and folded arms. I hadn’t yet brought Gerry into the core plan. He was a newbie, and my gut told me something wasn’t right. “Inventory!” I barked over the comms, watching Gerry move around the newly delivered rovers and crates. Across the dusty plain, Vanessa and Tyron huddled near Jarek, murmuring. Gerry’s visual feed flicked onto my interface. “We’ve got the O2 converter,” he said, pointing at a six-wheeled rover with a large tank built to extract breathable air from the Martian atmosphere. He pivoted. “Extraction and sampling unit here. And behind you—five bikes, all fully fitted with RTG, wind, and solar systems. We’ve got six months' worth of autonomy.” The rest of the crew gathered. Vanessa and Tyron were fixated on Jarek’s open pa

“Our connection to the colony is dead,” Gerry said flatly. We had entered an entirely different region, though the red sands stretched in all directions like the rest of Mars. Dunes broke unevenly around us, scattered like rust-colored waves. “Did you hear what I said?!” Gerry repeated, louder. I stood on the edge of a dune and activated the Astro Binoculars in my helmet. A heads-up display flickered across my visor, calibrating. I scanned the barren wasteland ahead. “Thoughts?” I asked over the comms. “This is Jarek’s expertise,” Vanessa replied. Despite the early hour, the Martian heat was already suffocating. “Yes, Boss,” Jarek said. “We have to cross. That’s how I found the Interstellar camp the first time.” “If we don’t find that camp, we die,” Gerry mumbled. Tyron typed rapidly on his console. “Analyzing topography. If we veer south, we’ll hit an even plain. Could be ideal for a camp.” Jarek nodded. “We move. It’ll take two days. We can refill supplies there.” ---

To return would be difficult. We looked back—the storm still raged behind us. “Boss, we cannot remain here and wait to die,” Tyron said urgently. Vanessa nodded. “We have to give it a try. Let’s head in Jarek’s direction.” Gerry stepped forward, defiant. “No! If we’re no longer on radar, the UN Space Force will search for us. The farther we go, the lower our chance of rescue.” I ignored him. “Vanessa, what are our resource stats?” “Two days max,” she said. “Suit water reticulation systems are the same.” I looked at them one by one. “We divide the load and ride out.” No one objected. --- We rode for hours through dizzying dunes, straining against the gravity and silence. We found no sign of Jarek. No tracks. No comms. Nothing. Eventually, we reached a flat basin, cleared of desert sand. A herd of Giardia—Martian creatures with four pairs of spindly, blade-like legs—bounced around the clearing. They moved like spaghetti springs, pulsing across the surface. We stopped at

I regained consciousness to find Jarek bent over me.“Boss! I thought you were gone,” he said, voice shaking.Vanessa stirred. Tyron groaned. Even Gerry blinked, dazed and bloodied. All of us were trembling andnauseous with splitting headaches. But we were alive.Gerry checked his gear with unsteady fingers.Jarek stood, clutching his side. “North,” he said hoarsely. “There’s a camp in the highlands. Friends. Wecan report to the colony from there.”That evening, we huddled in the Terrapod, exhausted. We ate in silence, reflecting on everything we hadendured.Then came the beep—sharp and sudden.The security perimeter alert.“Pangolin,” Jarek guessed, peering outside. “Maybe a scavenger. There are a lot of tracks out here.”We heard whirring.Not from creatures.From engines.Not Martian wildlife.From bikes.Dozens of lights approached through the dunes.“Pirates,” Tyron hissed, grabbing the Mars M82.We scrambled to our positions behind a series of dunes. Tyron dropped into a pron