Chapter 23:
Becoming Caesar

When Marcus Donovan was a child, he spent countless nights staring through his uncle’s rusty old telescope at the tiny reddish speck that was Mars, all the while imagining a fantastic world over-run with jungles and weird, ancient ruins. It was a world of adventure and unending surprises where dozens of savage species warred for supremacy. Somehow, despite Mars’ best efforts to the contrary, the fantasy never completely left him.

As he grew older, he collected images from all the unmanned probes which had been sent to scout the red planet. The old guard of space exploration—venerable names such as NASA, Roskosmos, JAXA and ISRO—had produced thousands of images from orbit and later from the ground. They uniformly described a desolate landscape interrupted only by rocks, but Marcus’ dreams plodded on unimpeded.

When he was thirteen, his parents let him stay up late to watch the first Mars landing live on TV. Six years later during his first year at university, he stayed up for two straight days watching the Ares Colony’s daring drop from space. He failed two finals because of it. Even then, with the reality revealed on a constant video feed, he continued to believe that Mars was the most interesting place in the universe.

Now he was sitting in a conference room perched on top of the colony’s main dome, surrounded on all sides by a three-sixty view of the Martian desert, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It wasn’t how he’d imagined it all those years ago, but he realized he hadn’t been fair to Mars. He hadn’t accepted her for what she truly was. The stark emptiness held its own alien beauty, whispering a long story of solitude, while hinting at an exciting future yet to come.

Amira Saladin—the woman with the striking eyes who’d met them in her powered suit—was the administrator’s daughter and the colony’s chief engineer, and Marcus found her just as intriguing as the planet she called home. Considering her age, he’d normally have assumed her rank was the product of nepotism, but he’d seen evidence of her talent first hand. The colony relied on technology more than a decade past its prime, but she kept it running and upgraded to the latest spec. She could probably build a radio out of two rocks and a seashell if she had to.

Ms. Saladin had given Marcus and his team a quick tour of the facility before bringing them to the meeting room, and when she was finished, he asked her to stay. She looked confused, but with a little coaxing, she obliged.

Then they waited. Marcus would’ve hated the wait if not for the view.

Faulkland and Juliette were seated to Marcus’ left, and Rao to his right, while Ms. Saladin was half-way around the large table. Marcus thought her choice was a safe one, like taking a seat in the back of a class.

“Your father must lead a very busy life,” Faulkland said to her after a bit.

Marcus was looking off toward the eastern horizon, trying to find any hint of Olympus Mons in the distance, without luck. “No,” he answered for her. “He’s the type to make his guests wait. Gives them a chance to reflect on how important he is.”

Ms. Saladin didn’t respond, but her smirk told him he was close to the mark. “That’s alright,” Marcus added after a moment. “I’m not sure how many important people we have left. A little reflection couldn’t hurt.”

Another minute passed in silence, and then the administrator came through the door, flanked by a pair blue-suited advisers. Administrator Saladin was the absolute image of a statesman, dressed in a fine graphite suit with a red-and-white sash across his barrel-chest, decorated with dozens of medals accumulated during his long career. He was a heavy set man, and had no doubt been exceptionally strong and stout even as a youth. The weight had since become ornamental, but he would probably still place well in an arm-wrestling contest.

Everyone stood. Marcus took a long stride forward and shook the administrator’s hand. His grip was firm but not crushing, and he had the same penetrating eyes as his daughter.

“Administrator Saladin, it’s an honor to finally meet you, sir.”

“And you, Doctor Donovan. I’ve always heard you’re a surprising man, but the rumors hardly do you justice.”

Marcus smiled through his embarrassment. “I must apologize for our rude approach to your planet. We’re still learning, Mister Administrator.”

“Think nothing of it, Doctor. But in the future, perhaps a little warning would be in order.”

“Absolutely, sir. Warning, and more.”

With a smile, the Administrator motioned toward the table. “Please, have a seat everyone. And perhaps the Doctor will tell us how he came to be in possession of such an astonishing vessel.”

For the next hour, Marcus told them the whole story from beginning to end. How he discovered Zebra-One by accident, and the years of research he conducted in secret, one short glance at a time. The gamble he took in deceiving the Foundation, his team’s arrival and initial exploration of the vessel, and how he came to have an alien interface plugged into his brain.

Then, as if the rest of the story hadn’t been fantastic enough, Marcus told the administrator what he knew of the ship’s origin, of Eireki history and their desperate fight against the Nefrem. He revealed how the human race itself came to be, and when it was all over, he was badly in need of a glass of cold water.

The administrator and his two lieutenants were left in a stunned silence, while his daughter had a look of utter disbelief on her face. It was the look of a little girl who’d just been told that unicorns were not only real, but also the source of hamburger meat.

“This is… it’s quite a lot to take in all at once,” Administrator Saladin finally said in his gruff voice. “And you believe the invaders to be these… Nefrons?”

“Nefrem, sir. And to be honest, neither Legacy nor I know for sure, but until we know one way or another, we should assume so.”

“A very sensible thought. And what of the war you told us to prepare for?” The administrator exhaled sharply, with a hint of a growl, and shook his head. “I understand you have some kind of warship, but that hardly seems enough. Fill in the missing pieces, Doctor.”

“You’re right. It’s not enough, sir. That’s why I’m here.” Marcus recalled the plans he’d sketched out with Legacy, and she echoed them distantly from orbit. He felt her presence there in his head even planet-side, but she was faint, and he felt oddly empty without her.

“Legacy is vastly powerful. We’re only just beginning to understand the extent of her abilities. But I neglected to mention that she also houses a factory equipped with technology which far outstrips our own. The skiff that brought us here is just one example of the fleet already under construction, and it was built in just two weeks, if you can believe it.”

“Impressive. So you’re going to build your own armada?”

“Much more than that, sir. Your colony is little more than a frontier town right now, and our first step should be to transform it into a fortress. A safe haven for humanity. With your permission, we’ll establish a second factory here and a handful of mining facilities. With our enhanced manufacturing, your habitat can be improved and expanded, giving your population room to grow. Meanwhile, Legacy will build orbital defenses to prevent the kind of attack that devastated Earth.”

“And then?”

“Then we build a proper fleet and liberate our people, sir.”

The administrator had never stopped shaking his head. This was going to be a tough sell. “I have seven thousand men, women and children living on this planet. These people are colonists, Doctor Donovan. Not soldiers. Tell me, what kind of liberation force could that amount to?”

“I’ll be the first to admit we’re facing an uphill battle, sir, but we must fight. It isn’t just the planet we’re talking about. Our analysis of the Copernicus Transmission indicates a sizable number of survivors. Perhaps as many as two billion.”

“Two billion?” the administrator said, and he mulled over the decimal places.

“It’s not easy to condemn two billion people to death, is it?”

“It’s never easy to condemn anyone to death, but difficult choices must be made sometimes.”

“I’m sorry, but if we can help them… if there’s even a chance, then it’s our duty to try. Ask your people, Mr. Saladin. Let them decide for themselves.”

Marcus knew that he was pushing too hard, but every minute wasted amounted to more deaths that could have been prevented. They needed to get to work, the sooner the better.

The administrator had his hands on the table with his fingers laced together, and he was staring at them while he chewed on his thoughts. “It’s true. Something must be done, and if I extend your request to my people, you would have many volunteers. They’re a courageous and selfless lot. However, I’ll not give them the option until I’m convinced this is more than a suicide mission. The invaders destroyed our civilization in the blink of an eye, Doctor. What could a few thousand colonists do in the face of such overwhelming power?”

“Simply put, sir, the situation has changed. The invaders caught us with our pants down. They appeared without warning, scrambled communications before anyone could get the word out, and slaughtered billions who never saw it coming. This time, we’ll have surprise and superior technology on our side.”

The administrator still wasn’t convinced. Marcus went on. “As long as Copernicus is operational, we’ll have an abundance of intel about enemy troop concentrations and defenses. With a little planning, we can launch surgical strikes that will cripple their infrastructure with minimum risk to our own forces.”

“And what sort of weapons will we use? Eireki weapons?”

Marcus smiled. The administrator was a very shrewd man. “Actually, that’s one of the obstacles still ahead of us. Legacy is… how best to put this… forgetful, and my people, brilliant as they may be, are stargazers and mathematicians. Not weapons designers. We’ll need to develop our own weaponry, and your chief engineer is the key to that.”

“Me?” Amira Saladin asked.

Marcus gave her a reassuring nod. “If you’re willing, Miss Saladin. I’ve seen your work, and I wager a single colonist outfitted with your MASPEC armor would be worth a hundred standard infantry. Just imagine what else you could build with our technology.”

From the look in her eyes, she began to imagine right then and there, and that look alone confirmed Marcus’ suspicions. She was just the kind of person they needed to make this work. The kind of person Legacy needed.

“How long would you need to make your plan a reality, Doctor Donovan?”

“One year. An Earth year, that is.”

The Administrator closed his eyes for a second and pursed his lips. When he opened them again, he spoke. “Against my better judgment, you may have your year, Doctor.” They shook hands across the table. “But I’ll be keeping watch on your progress. I reserve the right to pull my people out should you fail to meet my expectations.”

“Understood, sir. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

One year. It was longer than Marcus could stand, and less than they needed by half, but it would have to do.