Chapter 4 Neela
~Present day.~
I watch Sanjay’s chubby little face. My baby nephew’s grown so much. With his golden skin—our family’s Mauritian heritage—and those striking blue eyes just like his mom’s, he’s absolutely adorable.
It’s been a few weeks since Meghan went back to work, right after Sanjay’s first birthday. She’s off this week, so we agreed to meet at the toddler center.
Snuggled into a pair of armchairs near the play area, we keep an eye on her offspring.
Sanjay’s sitting next to two little girls, offering them a pre-chewed toy. The dozen or so toddlers in the children’s zone babble happily.
I glance outside, past the de-opaqued composite wall. I don’t want to get home too late, and I still need to bring Meghan and Sanjay back to their housing unit.
They moved a few months ago, just after the baby was born.
They were lucky—just swapped places with Francine and Armand, a sweet Belgian couple living less than three miles away.
When their daughter moved in with her boyfriend, it freed up a room in their unit.
Francine and Armand were thrilled to switch apartments without leaving the area—especially since we all enjoy chatting in French over a cup of herbal tea now and then.
So now, my brother and his family live less than fifteen minutes away by snowmobile. I love it.
Meghan and I have been discussing Kiran’s side activities for over an hour now.
When he’s working at the Palace doing structural maintenance, he takes the opportunity to quietly document all the blatant irregularities he spots.
Definitely not for fun. But for the past few months, the Regent and his court have gone full authoritarian—rigid, unequal, and totally out of control.
Power abuse, food quota violations, overindulgence in everything.
On top of that, they’ve formed a little inner guard to make sure the rest of us strictly follow the Pact.
As for Kiran’s extracurriculars? What started as a list of the Palace’s wrongdoings has recently become a deep, alarming investigation. He happened to witness a startling meeting between the Regent, Gorka, and a humanoid alien.
We all know it’s thanks to the Polarians of the Intergalactic Confederation that we ended up on Mars.
They look just like Humans—specifically East Asians.
And we’re not na?ve—we know other species exist, in all sorts of forms. But the Pact clearly stated Mars was to be entirely reserved for former Earth species, both plant and animal.
Yet, according to Kiran, the figure he saw at the Palace had completely reptilian skin—definitely not Earth-born.
So what’s an alien species doing on Mars? Near Cydonia? And more importantly, why at the Palace?
Kiran shadowed the three of them and caught part of the conversation. The lizard-man, as he called him, spoke fluent English—the common language on Mars. They talked about cargo, discretion, and rewards.
That’s all he managed to catch, but ever since, he’s been extra careful at work. He’s even convinced a few others to help him, like Esteban, his childhood friend.
Truth is, for over a year now, a real protest movement has been slowly growing against the Palace’s abuses. At first, the special privileges granted to the Regent and his cronies were explained away, wrapped in flimsy justifications. Not anymore. They’re not even pretending.
So Kiran and Esteban are documenting everything, building a serious case full of Pact violations.
The plan is to deliver it to the administrator of Arabia Terra as soon as the weather allows.
That kind of journey is not safe during Martian winter.
And our CCCs—the only long-distance communication systems we have—don’t reach that far.
Besides, we need to be sure Naoto Masayuki, Vassili Porkoff’s counterpart, takes the complaint seriously. The mountain of evidence should help. He’s our last chance. Because who else but someone as powerful as Vassili could possibly rein him in?
Maybe those who already left Cydonia for Arabia Terra tried to raise the alarm. Akiro and Jonathan, for example, moved months ago after getting fed up with Vassili’s excesses. But if they did try, it didn’t do much—nothing’s changed since their sudden departure.
Maybe a thicker file will tip the scales?
Time flies, and one by one, the moms collect their kids—so do we.
Meghan carefully bundles Sanjay into his waterproof suit and straps him into the snowmobile pod. I hop onto mine and we ride back through the pines to her place at a steady pace.
Once there, I help her carry the groceries she stuffed into her tote while she tends to her son.
“Kiran’s not back yet?” I ask, surprised.
“Your brother had a meeting with Esteban and Viktor. He’ll stop by tomorrow if he has anything important to tell you.”
“Okay. Tell him I said hi.”
After saying goodbye on her doorstep, I head home.
A white rabbit darts out from behind a pine. I stop my snowmobile and watch it disappear into its burrow. What a joy it is to share this world with animals—thanks to the Polarians, they were reintroduced to Mars alongside humans.
The local saying is ‘Thank Ares!—Ares being the Greek name for the Roman god Mars. But really, the ones we should thank for the miracle of being alive here, alongside creatures from our original planet, are the Polarians. Mars has nothing to do with it—though it’s now our world, our home.
On a whim, I restart my engine and head toward the lake nine miles east. Last week, I spotted the snow lynx mom who set up her den nearby a few months ago—she’d finally let her kittens venture out.
I want to check on them. Not to bother her, just snap a few photos.
She’s seen me around enough to know I mean no harm.
When I reach the edge of the frozen lake, I park and get out. From the rear bag, I grab my camera with the powerful zoom. It’s practically glued to me—I’ve used it to collect plenty of “evidence” for Kiran and Esteban’s file.
No one ever questioned my sudden passion for photography.
Unofficially, it lets me spy on the Palace from a distance.
Officially, it provides local education centers with nature shots.
We start teaching our kids early about the dangers out there—and wildlife is part of that, in all its beauty and savagery.
A faint movement to my right… There! A tiny ball of fur appears.
Drawn first by scent, then curiosity, the lynx babies have emerged.
They’ve plumped up since last time. A deep growl rumbles nearby—the mother’s way of warning me she’s watching and won’t tolerate any threat to her young.
I stay perfectly still, giving her time to recognize me and calm down.
After a moment, she settles and returns to her kittens, keeping them close to the den.
Suddenly, she freezes, lifts her head, and sounds the alarm. Within seconds, they’re gone.
I look around, searching for what spooked her. Another predator? If it’s a bear or wolf, I shouldn’t linger—they won’t be as polite as this feline.
Then I see it… a flying object descending dangerously fast. A plane? No—it doesn’t look like the ones in old Earth movies. More like a spaceship. And it’s going to crash! Right here! Just a few dozen yards away!
I tense up, unsure what to do. Aside from the Polarian shuttles that brought humanity to Mars, nothing has ever flown through the reddish skies of our new home. We’ve only seen such things in movies and old Earth archives.
The craft hits the ground—or rather, the frozen lake. The impact is violent, but the pilot’s clearly skilled. Instead of exploding on contact, the ship skids wildly across the flat surface all the way toward the base of the mountain.
The noise is deafening, and fragments scatter in its wake. For a moment, I fear nothing will stop it—it’ll smash into the mountainside. But it doesn’t. It crashes into a tiny island jutting from the lake, and its momentum abruptly halts.
I haven’t moved. I still don’t know what to do. I can’t warn Kiran. It’s getting late, and most people are already safe inside their housing units. This area’s on the mountain’s far side. I doubt anyone else saw what just happened.
Frozen in place, I watch the wreck. Did anyone survive? Who are they? Why come to Mars? Are they peaceful?
As questions race through my mind, a sudden sound tears me from my thoughts. A chilling crack—the ice is breaking under the ship’s weight. It’s already starting to sink.
Horrified, I watch the catastrophe unfold. If anyone’s still alive, they’ll be dragged down with it.
With morbid fascination, I witness the disaster. The craft sinks slowly, then vanishes beneath the ice.
Only the howling wind remains. The thick white layer begins to reform in eerie silence. A few scattered fragments on the slick surface are all that’s left of the crash.
I’m about to hop back on my snowmobile when I spot something in the distance—right where the ship went under. A piece of debris? A bag?
As curious as those lynx kittens, I have to investigate. I won’t risk crossing the fragile, freshly frozen lake—that’d be suicide.
Instead, I circle around, steering as close as I can along the shoreline.
The closer I get, the more I question what I’m seeing. It looks… like a person. Could someone have made it out before the ship sank?
I finally stop the vehicle and decide to find out. I’m on the bank—maybe a hundred and sixty feet from the body.
Carefully, I step onto the ice. My boots are non-slip, so I’m not worried about falling. I’m more concerned about the ice’s true thickness.
As I get closer, it becomes clear—it’s a man. Is he still alive? Probably, if he escaped in time.
I stop just a few steps away.
I’m mesmerized by what I see. He’s humanoid—but definitely not Human. His body’s covered in soaked, frozen fur, even his face, which I’d describe as ruggedly handsome.