

### Muslim Mars

By Christian Hale

~

Copyright 2020 Christian Hale

Smashwords Edition

### Prologue

" _The vision recurs; the eastern sun has a second rise; history repeats her tale unconsciously, and goes off into a mystic rhyme; ages are prototypes of other ages, and the winding course of time brings us round to the same spot again."_

\- Andrey N. Mouravieff, October 1840.

Hestia Colony, Mars

Earth year 2054 (Mars calendar year 11)

"I will get straight to the point," said the man on the recorded audio transmission from Earth. "The details of the peace deal with the Muslims will be announced in about twelve hours. There are some issues still to be clarified, but I have a very short document in front of me outlining the main points."

The Hestia Colony Planning Committee sat silently listening to the President of the European Council and glanced over the words as they were transcribed onto a screen.

"I will spend most of my time going over what is relevant to you on Hestia. But first you will hear what we in Europe must give up, so you understand that you are not the only ones who must sacrifice. Then I will outline your burden."

The committee members, twelve meters deep under the Martian soil and rock, suddenly grew nervous.

"What does this have to do with us?" said a committee member to nobody in particular. "They better not be cutting back on supply missions."

"We lose most of southern Spain," said the President. "As well as southern Italy. Greece is gone, plus every single Balkan state minus Slovenia. Also, Bulgaria and the Black Sea Coast of Romania and virtually every island in the Mediterranean have been lost. In exchange, the Muslims, by which I mean the Turks and the Arabs and every other Muslim ally that is a part of their coalition, will stop their siege of Vienna and withdraw their forces from Austria and Hungary to their newly recognized Balkan domains. The Arab expeditionary force that is camped in the Centre-Val de Loire region will drive south and leave France entirely, as will the Arab forces who made Marseille their base. The Muslims will renounce any further territorial claims on European territory aside from what has been ceded to them. As they withdraw their forces, the American and British volunteers will leave Europe on the same timeline, whether they like it or not."

"So, what's the bad news?" asked a voice from the back of the committee room with a sarcastic question that would go unanswered by the one-way transmission.

"What is relevant to Mars," continued the President, "maybe not to the Chinese colony but definitely to you in Europe's colony in Hestia, is the return of refugees. Europe has agreed to accommodate and compensate every Muslim refugee who fled Europe...even those that we accuse of treason or terrorism."

There was confused murmuring in the committee room.

"As you are well aware, Hestia has been condemned at the United Nations and elsewhere for the composition of the colony's population. In particular, you are seen by the Muslim world as an atheist European force that seeks to exclude Islam from space exploration and colonization."

"We exclude every religion on Mars, as do the Chinese," said one committee member. "This is a scientific colony, not a mosque."

"And so the Muslims were adamant in the negotiations," stressed the President. "Hestia will be opened up to Muslim immigrants, likely to be chosen from amongst the refugees who are returning to Europe. Within five years the colony must be twenty-five percent Muslim. Within a decade the number must be forty-five percent. We have no choice in who is accepted. The Turks and the Arabs will do the selections. Islam is coming to Mars."

The transmission ended and the Hestia colony committee room erupted in confusion and anger.

### Chapter One

" _When you leave familiar ground and step off alone into a new place there will be, along with the feelings of curiosity and excitement, a little nagging of dread. It is the ancient fear of the Unknown, and it is your first bond with the wilderness you are going into."_

\- Wendell Berry, 1961

Tharsis Plateau, European Sector Landing Field, Mars

386 days after the conclusion of the peace treaty

Thomas looked out over the Martian horizon as the dust from the lander slowly dissipated in the far distance. He felt his helmet and breathing apparatus weigh heavily whenever he moved slightly. He thought it odd that this was what was on his mind as he walked across the surface of Mars for the first time. Thomas then focused his wandering thoughts on the scenery: bleak and brownish-orange. He was warned ahead of time to not expect any spectacular scenery, certainly not anywhere near the broad, flat landing area. Olympus Mons, more than twice the height of Mount Everest, was out of view over the horizon. And Arsia Mons, home to the Hestia Colony, had such a gentle slope that Thomas did not even notice that he was already standing near the western base of the extinct volcano.

The Hestia Colony workers ignored Thomas and busied themselves with unloading cargo and disassembling the single-use freight lander, not bothering to ask him why he was the only arrival. Thomas concluded that the delivery of cargo coinciding with the arrival of a new person on Mars was, apparently, a mundane affair for long-time colonists.

"Hello, Thomas! Behind you," said a voice in Thomas' earpiece.

Thomas turned around to see a man in a heavy spacesuit wearing a dark reflective visor.

"Sorry. I can see your face but you can't see mine. It seems rude, I realize. This visor is mandatory extra protection from the radiation that is slowly frying your DNA right now."

"Oh, that's no problem at all," replied Thomas. "You're my escort to the colony, right? Erik?"

"Yes, that's me. But there's no hurry. We can stick around here for a while longer if you want. I'm only joking about the radiation. You would need to spend a couple of weeks outside in that lightweight suit before you do any damage. I assume you read the health and safety section of that _Welcome to Mars_ book during your transit?"

"I watched the video series instead while doing my mandatory exercises. It's a long trip from French Guiana to Hestia. I may have had the misfortune of watching it a few times."

"Bad video, I know," admitted Erik.

"It wasn't too bad. It's just obviously made by...uh, amateurs."

"We're not good at creating art or entertainment here on Mars. The plan was to import the creative people last. Although I'm not sure what a poet would write about this landing field," said Erik as he gestured at the lightweight shipping containers and scattered machinery that sat amidst the dusty tracks of so many vehicles.

Thomas laughed, realizing that he really was about to join a colony of scientists, engineers, and technicians.

"So, listen..." continued Erik. "The drive in the ground transporter is almost two hours long, and the scenery on the road is far better than this landing area. And also, if we go now, we have the vehicle to ourselves. If we leave later, we will share it with some of these guys when their shift ends. And they won't want to take the slower scenic route that I have in mind."

"OK, you've convinced me. I'm ready to go."

The four-wheeled ground transporter moved along at a slow speed while its electric motor hummed quietly. Thomas sat in his seat and enjoyed the view as the terrain became rougher and steeper. He had hoped that he would be able to take off his helmet in the transporter, but he immediately glimpsed the stern safety warning: HELMETS MUST REMAIN ON.

"That's for the newcomers," said Erik as he noticed Thomas looking at the warning. "For whatever reason, some of them think we have sealed and pressurized vehicles on Mars, as if we have the budget for that sort of thing."

"Are you a full-time driver?" asked Thomas.

"No, I'm a water technician. Specifically, I harvest ice from the glacier. Or rather, from the frozen dirt and gravel we tunnel into. It's not exactly a beautiful blue-ice glacier," replied Erik as he pointed up the slope of the long-extinct Arsia Mons volcano.

"I hope that you didn't have to spend one of your free days to come pick me up."

"Oh, no. Don't worry about that. I have quite a few days off. We are so efficient with glacier melting that our water technician team has been cut by about eighty percent. The main point of the ice harvesting these days is to make oxygen."

"And yet you Hestians seem very strict with water recycling, at least in the officially stated rules," said Thomas. "If there is such an abundance of ice-melt water, why is the Hestia Colony recycling waste water and toilet water and, uh..."

"Drinking it?" said Erik with a smile.

"Yeah, drinking it. I know that it is perfectly pure, but still..."

"Well, we don't think about it anymore here. It just doesn't cross your mind when you drink a glass of water. That was the plan: to remove any taboo or revulsion from drinking and eating recycled biowaste. But more importantly, we are constantly working to perfect our water recycling and efficiency techniques so that when we eventually build colonies or research stations in drier areas of Mars, we will be ready then to be ultra-water conservationists."

"OK, that makes sense."

"But it's just for practice in some ways," said Erik. "The colony itself has such low levels of water wastage and loss that we've built a few small swimming pools and saunas. Also, showers and baths are now unrestricted for time and volume."

"What happened to the people who no longer have their water technician jobs?"

"A few went to work in the greenhouses and other random jobs. And some went into intensive retraining programs for other engineering specialties, but most have been reassigned as sulfur and aggregate miners to supply the construction crew for the new residential sector."

"The new residential area, is it attached to the original colony?" asked Thomas.

"Yes. It just goes further into the hollow lava tube that our colony straddles. It should be finished in about one Earth year. The cargo shipment you arrived with has all the parts for the airlock that will be installed at the back of the new sector."

"But all other construction materials are sourced locally?"

"Mostly. We use sulfurous concrete. But the manufacture of the sulfur cement we use is a time and energy intensive process. It's almost all by hand, with the help of small electric mixers. We don't quite have industrial levels of production capabilities here. So the miners and the construction crew are now the fittest guys in the colony."

Half an hour later Thomas had exhausted all possible questions about Erik's work. He already knew the basic facts about the Hestia Colony and its operations on the slopes of the Arsia Mons volcano. Watching information videos during the long transit from Earth had given Thomas enough information. He really didn't need to bother Erik, but he was eager to talk to someone new. The small crew of French astronauts that had delivered the supplies to Mars orbit had been his only company for far too long.

The pause in the conversation gave Erik a chance to turn the interrogation in the other direction.

"So, you're the negotiator?" asked Erik as he kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel.

"Is that what they are calling me?"

"Well, if you have an exact job title, they haven't announced it yet," said Erik. "But everybody here knows your job description. It was written in the introduction announcement that we all received. You will be sort of a go-between guy for the Hestia community and the...uh, Muslims. It said _new arrivals_ , but everybody here reads that as _Muslims_. But to be honest, it's still not clear. Are you doing community relations, or something more serious?"

"Nothing too serious, I hope," replied Thomas. "On Earth I did community relations with Muslim residents and refugees for the city government of Hamburg. But the job soon turned into dispute resolution and managing some very bad relations as the war got worse."

"Yeah, I read an article about you after I searched your name online. From what I recall, both the local government and the Muslims credited you with keeping the people of Hamburg from kicking out or killing the Muslims like most everywhere else in Germany."

"That was the end result of many people's hard work – on both sides," said Thomas, trying to be modest.

"Sure, sure. But you have to understand what that looks like to many people here," said Erik. "We don't have any social scientists in Hestia. But we do understand that you are known for preventing Europeans from killing Muslims. And you have been sent to us, a colony that is over ninety percent European – or even close to ninety-five percent European if you include the Americans, Canadians and Australians. What are we to think? Does Earth think we are going to round up the Muslims and march them out onto the surface without space suits?"

It was the sort of very direct conversation that could be expected to occur between a Dane and a German. And Thomas was honest. He admitted that those back on Earth who hired him for the job recruited him especially because he had managed community relations in drastically different circumstances, from a time of peace through to a time when Muslims feared they might be deported or murdered at any moment. Thomas stressed that he was only expecting to use his skillset from the earlier peaceful times.

"We have over a year until the first Muslims arrive. What will you be doing between now and then?" asked Erik.

"Getting to know the community."

"All 3000 of us?"

"2897 of you, yes," replied Thomas with a smile.

"2896, actually. We had a suicide just recently. Some teenage girl did a walk-away."

"A _walk-away_?"

"Yeah, she put on a suit and went out for a walk. Everybody here is allowed to go outside when the weather conditions are good. You just need to reserve a space suit and a time slot and off you go...alone if you want. She hiked until she was past the point of no return. And then she removed her helmet. It's a quick death—the low pressure takes less than a minute to kill you. But horribly painful. It gets you before the asphyxiation does."

"Do these suits not have some sort of safety override or safety lock? You can just take the helmet off?" said Thomas as he tapped on his helmet.

"Yes. It's completely manual, as is this transporter. Most things are fully manual around here. Only the colony's external air locks have any sort of automatic safety override. So for those, you need both a person using their hands to turn the levers _and_ a computer deciding that it is safe to alternately open the outer and inner doors. The computer override prevents the inner and outer locks from being open at the same time. And, of course, we have an auto life-support backup system that will start pumping oxygen into the colony if it gets too low. And a fire suppression system. The usual."

"Will they introduce any new safety features on these space suits and helmets because of this girl's suicide?"

"I doubt it," shrugged Erik. "If someone has decided to kill themselves, then they will find many quick ways to do it on Mars. This girl did."

"And, uh, how about the body? I read that Hestians have a variety of choices."

"Cremation. And then the family and a few friends were given a ride in a couple of these transporters to a valley nearby where they scattered the ashes."

"Did you know her family?" asked Thomas.

"No. But I do know she was old enough to remember Earth. Not every kid here is happy about the choices that their parents made for them. For a scientist or an engineer this one-way trip is the adventure of a lifetime. It gives them a higher purpose. But for a young girl who remembers her life on Earth? Maybe not so much. So, unsurprisingly, even though the levels of youth depression in Hestia are lower than back in Europe, we are not immune."

"Yes, I've read over the statistics. And I've read many of the Hestia Colony case studies, but anonymously, of course. I don't see any names."

"How much do you have access to?" asked Erik.

"The same community information that your Planning Committee does, minus the technical information about the colony. So I get to see social indicators of various types, that's all."

"Anything interesting?" asked Erik.

"I saw one study that said you guys have less sex than the average European. The report could give no conclusive answers, but I do remember a quote from one anonymous respondent who said he felt like an animal in a crowded zoo. It's a mood-killer, I guess."

"Well, they should compare us not to the average European back on Earth, but rather to engineers and scientists back on Earth. We must be having more sex than those people."

Erik laughed out loud with Thomas.

While Erik followed along with the switch in tone and continued to make jokes about the colony, Thomas thought over what was actually the most interesting statistic he had read. And this one was given in confidence and was not to be repeated: a quick survey revealed that thirty-four percent of the adults in the colony had a negative opinion of any potential Muslim settlers, and fifteen percent had an extremely negative view. The largest category of respondents were those that claimed to be neutral or to have no opinion. Thomas was worried.

"Can I ask you a slightly uncomfortable question?" said Erik.

"Sure. I expect this will be the first of many from the colonists."

"How bad is it back on Earth, or more specifically, in Europe?"

"You have unrestricted access to news from Earth, right?"

"Yes," replied Erik. "As well as unrestricted personal communications. But I would be interested in hearing your perspective, since stability in Europe was your job. How bad is it, in your opinion, this peace agreement we've signed?"

"If you were Greek, Spanish or Italian I would not say this to your face, but Europe can survive without southern Europe. This is not the Roman era, nor the eighth century, nor even the fifteenth century. The center of European political and economic power is further north. We can now do without the far southern areas of Europe that we lost. And the Muslims proved incapable of taking any of the industrial or wealth-generating areas of Europe."

"You think they reached the limit of their military success? Is that why they agreed to peace?" asked Erik.

"Yes. Their later offensives failed again and again. And, for our part, we couldn't retake southern Europe. It was a stalemate, but a mutually hurting stalemate. So we both had the incentive to end this thing."

"Plus, we all know that if the Muslims took Paris, then the French would launch every single one of their nukes, despite the counter-strike guaranteeing their own destruction. Mutually assured destruction. I guess it's better than the Islamic State of France. Better dead than living as a forced convert or a slave," said Erik confidently.

Thomas decided to not reply.

"So, we are in a stalemate, and we have a peace deal. But for how long?" asked Erik. "Did we just fight World War One?"

"Who knows?" replied Thomas with a shrug.

"Well, Russia and America could get new presidents who might reconsider their abandonment of Europe. Then imagine the fear that would give the Muslims!"

"Unfortunately, the strategy of not getting involved in Europe has broad political support across all the mainstream political parties and movements in America and Russia. That much I do know."

"Hmm," replied Erik with some consternation.

"How do the colonists feel about Russia and America?" asked Thomas.

"A common point of view here among the people I talk politics with is that Russia and America abandoned us. For all their talk, for all their bravado, they just walked away from the fight. Russia portrayed itself as the savior of Christianity and western civilization, but when they had the chance to drop out of the war, they took it. And what for? To get back some mountains in the Caucasus? To get back some sad peninsula in the Black Sea? To be allowed once more to sail their ships past Istanbul? To be given some empty steppe land in Central Asia? They made a separate peace deal with the forces that were destroying Europe. They didn't even give us the option of negotiating a joint deal. And America started this whole conflict long ago, before I was born. Even before that Serb shot the Turkish ambassador. The Americans made a mess and expected us to clean it up while they hid in Fortress America. The American volunteers who fought alongside us had to buy their own gear and pay their own way. With America and Russia fully on our side, we could have stopped the armies of Islam from even considering stepping one foot inside Europe. The war never would have begun in the first place."

Thomas could feel Erik's anger. He hoped that not every conversation to come would unfold similarly.

"Would you say there's much in the way of anti-Russian or anti-American feelings here in Hestia?" asked Thomas.

"More like disregard. As if, perhaps, they are just not relevant anymore to us on Mars. They will probably disappear from history, just like many countries, kingdoms and empires have in the past. Certainly, I don't expect them to ever again lead in space exploration."

"How would you feel about Russia and America coming to Mars?" asked Thomas.

"Well, their programs are dead. I don't know how two backwards and broken countries like Russia and America could be space powers. America's space program is a low Earth orbit military force, and Russia just launches rockets and does freight deliveries to Mars for cash. The Russians have no funds to pull off a Mars colony. They are just our occasional delivery drivers because they can send the heavy freight for cheaper than we can do for ourselves."

"But have you heard the rumors about them rebuilding their space programs?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, we all have. The one thing you can still count on is American and Russian hurt feelings about being surpassed by other powers. They live in their glorious past, and they sometimes fantasize about recreating it. But speculative articles and viral videos about American and Russian expeditions to Mars are not government policy. Neither are wishful proclamations by random powerless members of their legislatures. Even if their leaders announced a Mars program, I wouldn't believe it. The time, effort and expense required is something that these people are no longer capable of."

"That's a very skeptical view," said Thomas.

"The skepticism is justified. Almost forty percent of Russians believe the conspiracy theory that there aren't actually colonies on Mars. In America the numbers are similar. They're a sad and broken people! They will remain on Earth forever."

Thomas paused for thought.

"Now can I ask _you_ a slightly uncomfortable question?" asked Thomas.

"You can ask it, yes. But I can't guarantee that I'll answer it."

"How do you feel about the arrival of the refugees?"

"Well," began Erik, "in a few years we will have almost a thousand new immigrants. All of whom will be Muslim and every single one of them having taken the place of a qualified candidate whose skills and social profile we needed and wanted. That will put us at twenty-five percent Muslim. And then after more arrivals we will be at forty-five percent Muslim, but at the rate they make babies it will be fifty-fifty, and then we fall behind and they become the majority. That's all in less than a decade."

Thomas listened silently.

"But you know," said Erik, "it's not about race or about any religion in particular. I would feel the same way if we were to be sent a thousand white American Christians."

"You already have a few Americans, and they are Christian, aren't they?" asked Thomas.

"Sure. As a cultural identity, they are probably Christians. But none of them go to church or tell the colony that we should live by Christian rules. They don't believe that they are morally superior. They are, functionally, atheists who just like to celebrate Christmas."

"It may well be possible that the Muslim refugees who are coming are the same as your American Christians: Islam as a cultural identity, but not as a way of life."

"I hope so," said Erik. "But we still don't know who we are getting. Many people here are worried that they will be underqualified and a burden on our colony. If they were qualified, we would have heard news of a recruitment drive amongst scientists and engineers who are Muslim. We don't need shopkeepers and taxi drivers on Mars. Do _you_ know who we're getting?"

"No. I'm hoping we get a report on that soon. The other side isn't that great at sharing information," admitted Thomas.

Thomas looked at the dusty road ahead and did his best not to sigh out loud. For the first time since he left Earth he wondered if his decision to make a one-way trip to Mars was a mistake.

One year later

Thomas took a break from re-reading the report on his phone. The vista of the Tharsis Plateau and the massive greenhouse complex through the window was monotonous and unchanging, so he once again returned his attention to the report. He scanned quickly through the text that he had already analyzed, trying in vain to find something positive.

Two hours later Thomas stuck the phone into his pocket after the fourth reading. He was expected soon in the Colony Committee meeting room.

With some small amount of time to kill, Thomas walked in circles through the hallways and stairwells, slowly descending deeper into the dormant lava tubes of the Arsia Mons volcano. The concrete walls and narrow passageways gave Thomas the sense that he was inside a regular building, not inside a lava tube on Mars. He thought over what he was going to say to the Committee. Nothing particularly insightful came to mind.

When Thomas finally made his way to the meeting room, he found the Committee members in what seemed to be a foul mood. As he sat down at the table the eight men and women wearily turned their attention to him.

Mila, the Committee Head, looked up from her tablet and announced, "Well, this report is not very useful. They've not given us much to work with. We only have information on the educational and professional backgrounds of one in five of the first batch of 250 arrivals. We mostly just have a name and a photo for the rest."

"Yes, but that at least tells us that not a single woman in this group wears a full face covering like a niqab or a burka," said Thomas.

"Thank God for that, yes. But as for other indicators, we don't even know how many are fluent in English," continued Mila. "There are so many unanswered questions. But before I go on and ask you some specific questions, I have to ask, Thomas, what stands out as significant to you?"

"Well, we are getting thirty percent women and girls amongst the first 250 arrivals. This means that there will be families. Experience back on Earth shows us that this is good for integration and for moderating the behavior of young men who may be, well..."

"Problematic?" offered Mila.

"Yes," replied Thomas, agreeing with the euphemism.

"OK, what else do you see that we might not?"

"Well, you are right, there is barely any information on the social and professional backgrounds of these people. But if I may, I can make a guess based on their appearances. I would say that zero percent of these people are Muslims who were born and raised in Europe _and_ became integrated. The hair styles, the type of beards, the style of hijabs, the clothing, and some other cues all tell me that these people are either observant and socially conservative Muslims who are not from Europe, or they are European Muslims who never integrated in the sense that they stayed religious, they wore the same clothing, they kept their traditions, they stayed in their neighborhoods. So we are getting neither well-integrated European Muslims, nor liberal Muslims from the Middle East."

"How much of a problem will this be?" asked Mila with some consternation.

"It will likely be mixed. Lack of integration does not necessarily make a person at risk of radicalization if balanced by other factors, but it does help to perpetuate separate societies and, in some circumstances, bad inter-communal relations. Of course, that's in the western European context in recent history. It's not a universal rule. It's hard to say how it will work here. And for Muslims who are born, raised and live in the Middle East, being life-long observant Muslims can often be a factor that decreases risk of radicalization in many circumstances, but not all."

"OK. These answers are less definitive than I was hoping for, and I had low expectations."

"Sorry," said Thomas. "This is me being honest."

"Yes, I understand. It's social science, not an accurate science. I guess we will find out things as we go along," said Mila.

Another Committee member raised his voice and asked, "The report states that they think that the first group is fifty per cent Turks, fifty per cent Arab, and one hundred per cent Sunni Muslim. Why do you think they selected the group like this?"

"Well," started Thomas, "my best guess is that the Turks and the Arabs did most of the fighting. So they get to make the decisions. They won't be inviting any Pakistanis or Indonesians or black African Muslims. And they are at war with Iran and with all Shia Muslims, so..."

The Committee listened silently.

"And about their skills," continued Thomas. "The people who compiled the report could not match faces to any profiles of European or American-based scientists or engineers or specialists of any kind. And this report, which is really not very good, does not even say whether or not they tried to match biometric face details to European passport and ID card databases. We won't know who we've got until after they arrive. But honestly, most of them look very working class. I'm not expecting scientists."

"OK, you've confirmed the uselessness of the information in this report," stated Mila. "I guess they have bigger worries in Europe than compiling comprehensive reports for Martians. So please don't waste any more time on this report. Instead could you look over our integration plan for the Muslims? It's in a rough draft form, so just insert your comments and send it back to us by the end of the week."

"Sure, no problem. But may I ask a question? Will we be able to send further inquiries to Europe about this group?"

"Yes."

"Can you try to find out how many of these men fought in the war?" asked Thomas.

"You want to ask if we are getting Muslim soldiers?" asked Mila.

"Uh huh," nodded Thomas.

"I'll add that to our list of questions for clarification, but just so you know, the composition of this group is final."

"How final?"

"Thomas, the report was sent to us one hour after the full group lifted off from Russia. It's final. They are on the way."

"Why from Russia?" asked Thomas. "I thought they just did freight deliveries for Hestia?"

"Europe couldn't guarantee security at the spaceport in French Guiana for the Muslims. Plus, they apparently think that we would put them on a sabotaged rocket. So, they opted for a Russian launch. It was obviously arranged quietly. Preparations were disguised as just another freight delivery to Mars."

With the meeting adjourned, Thomas made an effort to make some small talk with the Committee members over tea.

One committee member, the token biologist, cornered Thomas and asked quietly, "Like you, I'm a little confused. I understand that the Russians will launch anybody and anything for cash, but how did the group take off from Russia? I thought that there were no launch facilities there. The Russians launch from Kazakhstan, don't they?"

"That's true," said Thomas. "The Russians launch from Baikonur in Kazakhstan. But Baikonur is now part of Russia along with about half of Kazakh territory that was handed over to Russia."

"Oh. Yes. I try my best to ignore what is happening on Earth," said the slightly embarrassed biologist. "And I had mostly forgotten about Russia after they made their separate peace deal with the Muslims."

Thomas thought to himself, wondering how many on the Committee were similarly geopolitically ignorant.

"Do you think the Russians will ever actually go through with their plans for Mars?" asked Thomas, trying to avoid a political conversation. "I've heard rumors..."

"Well, their sector is empty and waiting," replied the biologist. "They can land there and start their colony whenever they want. They are short on cash, but they have the basic technology. Plus, we and the Chinese have a standing offer to share our expertise with them and assist them with air, food and energy during the first phase of any potential Russian colony. But maybe they are more concerned with acquiring land on Earth than on Mars. For now, they send us...these Muslims. But I'm not sure that's what we need at the moment."

Thomas nodded slightly, more just to acknowledge the comment than to agree with it.

### Chapter Two

" _You shall not mistreat or oppress foreigners in any way._

Remember, you yourselves were once foreigners in the land of Egypt."

\- Exodus 22:21

Thomas walked through the residential halls looking for a door number. Every hall looked the same, except for the range of residence numbers displayed and the varying plants that decorated the halls. As he again glanced up at a set of numbers, Thomas thought over what he had to say, or rather, what the Committee had asked him to say. The Committee's meeting with the man selected to lead the Muslim community had resulted in their leader skillfully deflecting some of the questions that needed to be answered, and so today it was Thomas' job to gently probe for answers.

All that Thomas knew was that the man he was scheduled to meet with had been a high-ranking Constitutional Court judge in Turkey, a position reserved only for adequately religious and politically loyal men. Thomas knew that such a man would be both extremely cautious, and difficult to persuade.

Thomas did not have to knock on a door, as the residence he was searching for had an open doorway manned by three small children. The little girl ran into the apartment, leaving behind her brothers to stare at Thomas and laugh at his attempts to get them to talk.

"Thomas! I am Hamit," said the mustachioed and grey-haired man who suddenly appeared from the back of the residence. "It's so good to meet you! Please, come in."

"Thank you," said Thomas as the children ran out the door and down the hallway. "I see that your kids haven't been slowed down by the long trip without gravity."

"The physiotherapy people here had them on a restricted routine for only one week. They said that's normal for children. I, on the other hand, I'm still doing exercises here and in the gym. A few days after arrival I tried to pick up my youngest child, and she felt like she was made out of rocks. I could barely lift her, and that's in Mars gravity."

"Did you do your daily exercises in transit?" asked Thomas.

"If I'm honest...no. After one month I was not following the routine strictly. I've spent a lifetime training my mind, and I found that training your body takes a type of discipline that I lack, especially at this age."

Thomas did his best to make a snap judgment of Hamit. Quickly his mind threw out a few impressions: a genuine smile, friendly but serious, an air of importance and authority, and, probably, the oldest man in the colony. Thomas wondered if the children were actually his grandchildren.

"Sorry about the mess, my children were given some tea seeds," said Hamit as he moved a few trays full of water off the dining room table. "They were told to soak them for a couple of days. Next they will bring home some soil from their school's biolabs and plant the seeds. We'll be a greenhouse soon!"

"I was offered tea seeds as well. But I chose mint seeds instead," said Thomas. "They take only three months to grow using hydroponics. I was having mint tea in no time at all."

"Hydroponics?"

"Growing them with their roots in water instead of soil."

"Ah yes, of course. Well, my children brought home from school a soil gardening guide that says it will be three Earth years before we can take tea leaves from the bushes. But we can have a nice array of houseplants in the meantime. And, of course, we were given a nice gift of tea from the greenhouse as a welcoming gift. But I don't think a half kilogram will last us three years."

"Tell your kids to ask for a hydroponics kit and some mint seeds at the greenhouse or from the botany teacher. I know you probably prefer black tea, but mint tea is better than hot water."

"Good idea. Thank you for suggesting it," said Hamit. "Now, I must apologize, for a Turk to not have coffee to offer is more than a little shameful. So I hope you will be happy with black tea?"

"Of course. Please," said Thomas with a smile.

"And one final failure in my attempt to be hospitable, I must admit that I have no sugar."

"That's no problem at all. Nobody here has sugar," said Thomas in sympathy.

"When do you think we will get sugar?" asked Hamit. "I heard that the greenhouses are growing some sugarcane."

"Yes, I saw it growing when I was given a tour of the greenhouses. They are experimenting with sugarcane and sugar beets, as well as with corn syrup. But there are no plans to assign much growing space to it for the time being, as healthy food crops are the priority."

"If God wills it, maybe we will eventually be blessed with some unhealthy crops as well someday," joked Hamit.

"Everybody here has a list of foods and products that they dearly miss."

"Now if only we had coffee!" said Hamit. "It's quite unfortunate that it's banned."

"Well, sort of...I was told that the coffee growing ban is temporary until some economists back on Earth figure out a system to keep Hestians from using coffee as currency. Apparently the colony degenerated into coffee speculation and misallocation of agricultural resources. There were even a couple of would-be coffee racketeers that tried to bribe the greenhouse crews into illicitly growing more coffee."

"No economists here?" asked Hamit.

"No. The colony consults with some micro-economists based on Earth. If the economists were living here they would have come up with a solution after their first day without coffee."

Hamit laughed, and then said, "Human nature is the same everywhere, as is our desire for coffee. As a Turk, being without coffee is almost unbearable."

"Germans aren't too dissimilar. I was hoping my flight here would be full of coffee beans," said Thomas. "But apparently every spare gram was dedicated to an assortment of minerals, chemicals, plastics and other stuff that we can't manufacture here."

"Same with our flight. When we left Russia they gave us a four-kilogram baggage allowance, and anything biological was prohibited."

"Well, let's hope that our Mars of the near future has fields of coffee bushes in every lava tube!" said Thomas hopefully.

"Agreed."

Thomas allowed the conversation to meander as he did his best to allow at least thirty minutes of pleasantries to pass before getting to business. After Hamit once again apologized for not being able to serve his guest a meal, Thomas decided to get to more pressing issues of concern.

"So, you know, the colonists, or rather the Committee, they were surprised that your group arrived with a leader," said Thomas.

"Oh?" said Hamit, who seemed not sure why this merited a mention.

"When your group left Russia, we were told that you all arrived at the launch facilities in different small groups, and even as individuals. And now we know that your group is from many different places in the Middle East, Turkey and Europe. I suppose the surprise is that nobody expected a leader to be selected in transit, as it is such a regimented and isolating experience where absolutely everything you do is decided well ahead of time. You can't even fit a dozen people in the same room in transit."

"I think this may be a confusion borne out of cultural misunderstanding. It is our duty as Muslims to have a leader in all things that we do. There is a hadith that..." began Hamit, before realizing Thomas may not know much about Islam. "Do you know what a _hadith_ is?"

"It's a quote attributed to the Prophet Muhammad," replied Thomas confidently.

"Exactly, and in this hadith the Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, states that if there are three or more Muslims traveling together on a long journey, then they should choose a leader from amongst themselves."

"Of course. That seems very reasonable," said Thomas. "But the Committee has some concerns regarding this. There remains the issue that, uh, let me put it this way: if you are the leader of this group, and you remain so, then that signals to the colonists that your group is separate from and not integrated into the colony."

" _Integrated_. This word was used in Europe often. And it was used unfairly. Europeans directed us to neighborhoods where only Muslims lived. They tried to deny us citizenship. They were reluctant to rent to us in their neighborhoods, especially if we _looked_ like Muslims. It scared them. And they did not invite us to their social events, or allow us into their clubs, unless it was one that played football. We were discriminated against in many ways, and then they blamed us for not being _integrated_. We were being blamed for not destroying our own identity. We were blamed for their rejection of us."

Thomas had a few defensive responses that came to mind, but he guessed that this would not help to ingratiate himself to Hamit.

"My time growing up outside of Turkey was spent not in Europe, but in England," continued Hamit. "And even at university it was clear that there were clubs and social circles to which I would never be invited or allowed."

"Well, I felt the same thing in England as a European. But I was only in university there for one year."

"Oh, really? Where?" asked Hamit.

"Coventry. I did a postgraduate degree at the University of Warwick. And you?"

"Well, I went to school for four years in London while my father was posted there in the Turkish embassy. And then to Oxford for my undergraduate degree. After that I moved to California for my master's degree."

"Well, if you have the money, then why not California?"

"Yes, an American MLS is not a cheap degree," said Hamit. "Especially not at Stanford. And particularly not when paying rent in Palo Alto."

"MLS?," asked Thomas.

"It's a master's of law."

After lamenting how expensive the cost of living was where he had lived in California decades ago, Hamit then steered the conversation towards Thomas and his career back in Europe. Thomas had grown quite weary of reciting his CV, but he figured that this was part of forming a working relationship with Hamit.

Eventually Thomas was able to get the chat directed back towards the questions he had planned on asking. He decided to be direct.

"Could you tell me, in your opinion, what has motivated this group of people to come to Mars? The colony members have been asking that question regularly, especially considering that there are almost no scientists or engineers in the group you arrived with. The Planning Committee is curious as well."

"Must you report back to them?" asked Hamit.

"You are welcome to them talk directly, or through me. If you involve me, then I also report back to you and your community. The Committee, they are scientists and engineers, so you may have better luck with me on some issues."

Hamit nodded with a smile and reached back to a shelf to grab a book that looked like it had taken up a quarter of his baggage allowance on the voyage from Earth.

"May I read you a verse from the Holy Quran, from the Surah al-Talaq?" asked Hamit. "I think it will help to explain our motivation for our one-way trip to Mars."

"Please, go ahead."

Hamit quickly found the passage and began his translated recitation.

" _It is God who has created the seven heavens and a like number of earths. His commandments are sent between them, so that you would know that God has power over all things and that His knowledge encompasses all_."

"A like number of earths?" asked Thomas.

"Planets. That is what the interpretation is. There are seven planets where Islam will be accepted. Earth is the first, we are now on the second. Where the next five are, I do not know. They may include planets of this solar system, or beyond. So, by coming to Mars we have fulfilled a commandment that God spoke though His Messenger, peace be upon him."

"Did everybody in your group believe this when they were recruited?" asked Thomas.

"No. Some were...confused. Space travel is not exactly well covered in Islamic jurisprudence and guidance. But, by the time we approached Mars orbit, we were united as a whole with this belief."

"I'm surprised space travel is covered at all," said Thomas.

"Well, a few Muslim astronauts have, in the past, asked for guidance from scholars before voyaging into outer space. As have space tourists who were Muslim."

"Ah, of course."

"But that was for short journeys, or for a temporary trip to a space station in orbit. For our move to Mars, we worked hard to consult religious scholars on many, many issues."

"Such as?" asked Thomas.

"Basic, everyday parts of our lives," said Hamit with a wave of his hand. "Such as the direction of prayer. We secured a fatwa—that's an edict—that declared we did not have to pray directly at Earth. The angles are impossible and they change all the time. Between the voyage here and being on a moving planet, we would have to be strapped to a board that rotates and pivots! So we should just pray in the general direction, if possible."

"I never really thought about that. But it makes sense. How many other fatwas did you collect?"

"Over 800," replied Hamit. "These include important matters such as an exemption from Hajj to Mecca, as we can't exactly leave Mars for a pilgrimage to Earth. Some were minor issues, such as certifying our food during the voyage as halal."

"Were you ever given any problems by scholars or religious authorities?" asked Thomas.

"Well, can you believe that some scholar said that the voyage to Mars was haram? He equated it to suicide, which is forbidden in Islam. He thought it was a high-risk one-way voyage that served no purpose. So, therefore our journey was forbidden. But usually we managed to avoid such ignorant people when collecting fatwas."

"Well, then I should ask...is there anything that you couldn't get a fatwa for?" asked Thomas.

"I'm glad you asked, Thomas, because there are some issues that need to be worked out."

"Like what?"

"Well, there are many Muslims here who prefer a dissenting opinion on the water issue."

"For drinking, bathing or ablutions?" asked Thomas.

"For ablutions. For drinking and bathing there is no debate. There is nothing forbidden about using recycled water for these purposes, no matter what the source. If the water is pure and clean according to scientists, then there is no problem."

"But for ablutions?"

"Well, there is a minority who believe that even though the recycled water is pure, it cannot be used to purify. They don't believe that they can be ritually clean for their prayers and for other requirements using this water."

"So, this minority is doing what, at the moment?" asked Thomas. "And why did they come to Mars if the water here is...haram?"

"They are using the colony water right now, as that is temporarily permitted for ablutions under circumstances when there is no other choice. Islam is a religion that embraces reason and considers a person's circumstances and ability to conform to rules. It is possible, for example, even to perform cleansing ablutions with sand if no ready source of water is available."

"And how about in transit from Earth?" asked Thomas.

"We secured a fatwa for a type of _tayammum_ —that's the dry cleansing—that involves gently knocking a wall with the palm of your hands. God does not want to place us in difficultly. He wants us to find a way to cleanse ourselves, even if there is no water available."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense."

"But this group with a dissenting opinion," said Hamit, "they have found out that there is the possibility to take pure water from the underground glacier on the volcano. They are pointing to a very clear fatwa that says they may use recycled water for ablutions, but only if there is no other alternative. If there is a clean alternative that was never in contact with human filth, then they must strive to use that water. I've been told that the water taken from the glacier is mixed with the recycled water. We were hoping that it would be possible to take the glacier water before it is mixed."

"Well, I'm not an engineer or a water technician," said Thomas. "I don't know what the Committee or the water techs will say."

"Can you ask them?"

"Sure. You are welcome to talk to them yourself, but I would gladly pass on the inquiry."

"Thank you, we appreciate it," said Hamit with a smile.

"But I have to warn you. I have no idea what they will say. This may be an issue of technical capabilities or cost. I really don't know."

"That's alright, said Hamit. "We are patient. We have many short-term fatwas that offer us a lot of flexibility while we are getting adjusted to life here."

"Are any other Islamic edicts that will expire soon?"

"Well, not too soon. Islam is flexible under difficult circumstances. We are not asked by our faith to punish ourselves. But," added Hamit, "there is a problem with halal food."

"Luckily for you there's no pork on Mars," replied Thomas with a laugh.

"Yes, but there is the issue of halal slaughter."

"For lab-grown meat? There's no animal to slaughter," said Thomas with some confusion.

"Unfortunately, there is, once again, a minority here who are following more strict guidance."

"So, there are competing fatwas?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, and the minority opinion is that the origin of the cells or tissue used in the lab-grown meat must originate from an animal whose flesh is halal, and which was slaughtered according to Islamic requirements."

"Again, we're way out of my area of expertise," said Thomas, "but I really doubt the lab-grown meat on Hestia is all sourced using cells from a halal butcher back on Earth."

"Yes, that's what we figured. Some have been avoiding the meat."

"Is that a problem?" asked Thomas. "Meat is a bit of a rarity. We're getting it about once per week, and in very small portions. At least I am."

"As are we. Small portions," said Hamit.

"Well, anyways, it seems we are getting our protein from other sources, like beans and nuts. So, is skipping the weekly meat allotment a problem for the minority who thinks it's haram?"

"No, they can be vegetarians. It is their choice. But there is a bigger problem with the protein paste."

"The protein paste?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, the protein paste that they use to fortify some of the food."

Thomas then suddenly realized what the problem was.

"You call them black soldier fly larvae, right?" asked Hamit.

"Yes, that's the menu item. They're not halal?"

"The only insects that are halal are locusts. Islamic dietary laws are very clear on this matter."

"From what I remember reading, the black soldier fly larvae are sort of a big deal here," said Thomas. "They eat almost every type of compost, and they are a great source of animal protein, fat and nutrients."

"But you see our problem, right?" asked Hamit.

"Yes. But this will likely require talking to the doctors, dieticians and the food techs."

"Of course, I understand it may take some time."

"I need to start writing these things down," said Thomas as he pulled his tablet out. "What else needs to be addressed?"

Two hours later Thomas walked out of Hamit's living quarters with a full list of issues to discuss with the Planning Committee. By the time Thomas returned to his own residence unit, he realized that he had forgotten to again bring up the issue of the Muslims creating a separate leadership structure within Hestia.

Thomas cringed as he thought about how he would tell the Committee that his assigned chore to solve one single problem was unsuccessful, and that instead he would be presenting them with a long list of unanticipated problems.

Planning Committee meeting room, two days later

"Thomas, I read your report, and this is just an unending list of demands," said a Committee member in frustration. "Some demands are just ridiculous. They don't want to eat the fly larvae, but they want the sugar that the black soldier flies live on? Because by not eating the larvae they think they should get the flies' quota of sugar? It's like an Arab bazaar vendor's dream of a welfare state!"

"It's not all that bad," replied Thomas. "That item is probably the silliest. We should treat this as a list of hopes, not strong expectations. Well, at least for maybe half of these requests. They likely don't expect all of these to be granted. But I should stress that a few of the requests seem to be non-negotiable from their side."

"What don't they want to negotiate on?"

"Reproductive issues, for example," replied Thomas.

"If they think they can be exempted from gene-editing their children, then we will have a serious problem."

"No, it's not that," said Thomas. "They accept editing embryo genomes with the end goal of healthy babies. Hamit was clear that this is acceptable in Islam. It's the terms of the Hestia genetic diversity program that they object to."

"How so?" asked the Committee member.

"I told Hamit the rules as far as I know them, that a woman's second birth on Mars must be a surrogate pregnancy where she carries a genome-edited fertilized embryo from Earth from two unrelated donors from outside of the surrogate's region of origin, and that neither she nor her husband have any say on the gender or race. And the third baby—if someone wants that many children—must be a sperm donor pregnancy, with similar restrictions."

"What part of that do they object to?"

"They are unanimous on this point," said Thomas. "The Islamic consensus opinion is that fertilized embryos are prohibited if either the sperm or egg is from a donor. Only the mother's egg and the husband's sperm may be used. Both are required. And the sperm-donor arrangement seems to be an even bigger sticking point. No Muslim man will accept their wife being inseminated by sperm from another man. At least not any of the Muslim men in this group."

"We will eventually start editing our genes in more drastic ways than just deleting diseases," said one Committee member. "Are these Muslims up for that? Are _any_ religious people willing to do the sort of genetic modification we will do in the future? We have to adapt our future generations to this planet. Think about it. We can't have here on this planet one healthy species that is adapted to Mars and one unhealthy species that is still stuck with one-hundred percent Earth traits."

"This will destroy their genetic diversity," said another Committee member. "This small of a group of people inter-marrying will give us a sickly inbred underclass whose illnesses can't be treated here on Mars. Plus, they are already at an unhealthy starting point as they did not go through the same rigorous genetic screening that the original colonists did."

"Hamit was ready with a reply on this issue," replied Thomas. "He said he read research that states a population of one thousand would take several hundred years before serious problems regularly arise. And obviously in the next hundred years the population on Mars should increase drastically with the arrival of newcomers."

"Well, the Muslim preference for first cousin marriages may speed up that degeneration of genetic health, right?" added a Committee member as the biologist nodded in agreement.

"As far as I know, none of them have any cousins here on Mars," replied Thomas.

"That just delays the inbreeding for two generations," said the biologist. "And problems don't start in several hundred years, but rather risk increases over time. So, the first cousin to cousin marriage here on Mars carries an increased risk."

"I think you may be over-estimating the percentage of Muslims who marry their cousins," said Thomas.

Mila decided she had heard enough.

"Let's put aside the long-term problems for now and focus on those that need to be addressed immediately," said Mila.

"They say they want control over the food and water. Essentially, a separate system," said another Committee member as he interrupted Mila. "It's not just a minority dictating to us, but their minority dictating to them and then them, as a minority group, dictating to us? Are we to be controlled by the intolerant minority of a minority?"

"You may all insert your comments and concerns into your own copies of the document, and then send them back to the Committee," said Mila firmly. "We will meet again in a few days. This follows our standard reporting procedure."

Nobody in the room objected.

"Thomas, you will need to be ready to go back to Hamit sometime after you see all of our concerns in written form. Obviously, I can't invite Hamit into the Planning Committee room with this sort of combative and angry atmosphere."

Thomas was relieved that his presence was no longer required. He left the room, but his sense of relief wore off as soon as he was outside the door. Immediately he was flooded with worries about how he would go back to Hamit with the Committee's objections.

Several days later

Thomas sat at a table in the main communal dining area for his first weekly open table session. The Committee asked Thomas to make it easier for members of the colony to approach him with questions and concerns. Thomas' preference was for this to be done by online messaging so that he could take more time and thought to compose a reply, but the Committee insisted he also be available in person.

"Thomas!"

Thomas looked up to find yet another colonist with a look of consternation on their face.

"What's with this story about the call to prayer?" asked the colonist in his spotlessly clean medical clinic uniform.

"Sorry, the call to prayer?"

"I heard that the Muslim call to prayer will be broadcast over our public address system. I'm not getting woken up at four o'clock in the morning and then disturbed another four or five times per day!"

"This is the first time I heard about this," said Thomas. "Who told you that this was going to happen? Nobody in the Muslim community has mentioned this to me."

"I just heard the story going around. Is it true?"

Twenty minutes later Thomas sat at the small table in Hamit's residential unit as Hamit let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Yes. It is true," replied Hamit. "There will be a timed broadcast of the call to prayer, but only into the private rooms of the Muslims who request it. The sound proofing here is good enough that they won't bother their...more secular neighbors, and it certainly won't be heard by any non-Muslims. Many of the people here want a standardized schedule for the prayers so that those who want to pray do it all at once. It's more efficient and convenient for many reasons."

"That makes perfect sense," said Thomas. "I guess this guy heard the story inaccurately after it was relayed several times."

"Thomas, maybe you could write up some sort of document that explains all those things about us that might be misunderstood. I can assist you. It would be easy!"

"That sounds like a good idea. We don't have to go through the Committee. I've been given enough freedom and independence to do this sort of thing without asking."

"Then let us move quickly," said Hamit. "I will survey my community and ask them how they think we might be misunderstood, and you can do the same. I know you can't talk to everybody on your side since there are thousands, but even a small sample would be helpful."

"Right. OK. Agreed. Let's meet again in one week and discuss our results. Is that timeline OK?"

"No problem, my friend," replied Hamit with a smile.

One month later

"Yes, we now have the amount of glacier water that we requested. And the men from our community who were assigned to the glacier worksite are quite happy with their jobs," said Hamit.

"So, what's the problem, exactly? Why are you now asking for a quadrupling of glacier water deliveries?" asked Thomas.

"Well, as soon as the rest of the Muslim community saw that a small number of people were getting the glacier water, they too decided that they wanted some for ablutions also."

"Even though they originally said that the regular water supply was clean enough for ablutions?"

"Yes, that's right," said Hamit. "The men who were given water technician jobs on the glacier say that it is possible to get enough glacier water for all of us if they switch from part-time to full-time work. It would require nothing from the Hestians. We would do all the extra work."

"OK, it seems not unreasonable. But like I've warned before, there may be some technical problem that I can't anticipate. I'll submit the request to the Committee, and if they are alright with it they can send it to the engineers for an assessment."

"Then we are finished for today?" asked Hamit.

"Well, actually, the Committee has some requests for your community."

"Oh?" said Hamit warily.

"The Committee said that they messaged you several times about arranging English classes for members of your community, but that they hadn't received a reply."

"We speak English fine, as you can see," said Hamit. "And the Muslim children go to the school in Hestia every day."

"Nobody doubts that. But I believe the Committee is thinking about the women in your community. It seems, from what I've been told, that more than half of the women do not speak any English at all. And very few of the rest seem to be proficient."

Hamit winced slightly.

"It would really help," continued Thomas, "if _all_ members in your community could speak what is the official working language here."

"We can do this ourselves. The men can teach English to their wives."

"Teaching a language is exhausting work, as is learning it," said Thomas. "I'm sure the women would be better served learning from a teacher who..."

"No," said Hamit as he interrupted Thomas, "I think we know what is best for our own families. We don't demand that all Hestians learn Arabic and Turkish, do we?"

"But Hamit, your wife speaks English well. And your daughter seems to be fluent for her age level. Don't you want that for the rest of the families?"

"I cannot force my family's way of life on the others," said Hamit. "Some of them would not accept such interference into their own families. Some of them don't value foreign languages in the way that my family does."

Thomas had a sinking feeling. He knew this was not going to be received well by the Committee and by the other colonists.

### Chapter Three

" _As man draws nearer to the stars, why should he not also draw nearer to his neighbor? As we push ever more deeply into the universe—probing its secrets, discovering its way—we must also constantly try to learn to cooperate across the frontiers that really divide earth's surface. No national sovereignty rules in outer space. Those who venture there go as envoys of the entire human race."_

\- Lyndon B. Johnson, 1965

" _Every kingdom divided against itself will be brought to desolation,_

and every city or household divided against itself will not stand."

\- Matthew 12:25

"Hello, Thomas? You're the community relations guy, right?"

"Yes, that's right," said Thomas as he looked up from his tea to see a young man in a greenhouse uniform.

"I'm Filip, I walk by here on my way home from my lab. I see you here often."

"Yeah, I come here after my office hours to look out the windows and have a cup of tea."

"Not bored of the view yet?"

"No, I guess I'm still a newcomer," conceded Thomas. "How long have you been here?"

"I was in the second group, the first science group. Only some of the engineers and the original construction team have been here longer. I've stared out of the windows plenty."

"What's your field of research?"

"Soil microbiology."

"How's your research going?" asked Thomas.

"Slowly, painfully. And now with some new distractions."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, well, that's actually why I wanted to talk to you," said Filip. "Your open office hours and my laboratory hours align, so I could never stop by to talk to you. And I really don't like sending messages. I wanted to talk in person."

Thomas noted to himself that Filip seemed nervous.

"And I also didn't want to talk to you in the communal dining area with other people around," said Filip.

"OK, sure. Then it looks like we've found a place to talk."

"I will be blunt and to the point," said Filip as he switched to German. "I'm Croatian. My family left to Germany when I was a child, but Croatia is my country. And now Croatia is gone. The Muslims have it now."

Thomas realized that this would likely not be an easy conversation.

"The Croatians who didn't flee now live under occupation and pay an infidel tax," said Filip. "They live as second class citizens. If the Turkish army occupies your town, you consider yourselves lucky. But if an Arab or Albanian militia occupies your town, like my hometown, you live in terror. They take children..."

Filip paused and breathed in deeply.

"I'm sorry," said Thomas.

"But are you angry?" asked Filip.

"Human suffering and cruelty anywhere makes me angry, yes."

"Well, this is the shameful fact about me: I'm not angry," said Filip.

"No?"

"I should be. But I'm not. I was, but then I decided that the anger was going to destroy me. So I stopped reading the news, I stopped talking politics. I ignored the war. I threw myself into my research. And now here I am. And I was happy and content. I was glad to abandon Earth. Again, that's shameful. And maybe even cowardly. But I had decided to make this planet my life."

"As have I," said Thomas.

"You won't be returning?"

"There is an option in my contract. But I've read the studies that China has done on their people that have gone back. I don't want to live life as an invalid after returning to full Earth gravity."

"Then you are stuck with us?" asked Filip.

"Yes."

"And you are stuck with our problems?"

"Yes. For better or worse."

"These problems...they are now multiplying," said Filip. "We may not see them at this exact moment. But I fear that pressure is building. And I...I don't want this. I don't want these Earth problems exported to Mars. I want to sit in my lab and walk through the greenhouse and babysit bacteria that will take nitrogen from the atmosphere and fix it into the soil where some future generation will grow our crops. That's my life, and it's the future of Mars. We need nitrogen in our soil if we are to grow things. You understand how fertilizers work?"

"I don't know much about agriculture. But yes, I read every section on agriculture in the book for new arrivals. I now have some basic idea of what Hestia needs to do to convert dead dust, sand and rock to living soil."

"Yes, terraforming," said Filip. "I've dedicated my life to this. That's all I want to do. This is what consumes all of my energies. Every day I am experimenting with different strains of bacteria and different types of soils and different temperatures and different levels of moisture and different depths. And now I find that we are to perform some dangerous social experiment on the colony itself with these new arrivals. How will this help us? How will this help our end goal of creating a living Mars?"

"It's an obstacle, I concede that. But I think we all may find that it will be much smoother than expected," said Thomas.

"Well, as was outlined to us all, the obstacles will come in several waves of arrivals. The first is already here, and they have so little to offer. We try to keep them busy, but they just don't have the relevant skills. So we now have a huge surplus of unskilled labor. They are bored and mostly unemployed, or with unrewarding work for ten hours a week if they want it. But the next group does not need to be so..."

Filip paused to think about what he was about to say.

"OK, let me phrase it this way: we could get useful people in the next few groups," continued Filip. "The interns at our sister lab in France already did the hard work for us. They combed through every university, ministry of agriculture and farming tech corporation in Europe, the Middle East, South Asia, Southeast Asia, and America. They came up with about 700 names of researchers who are all working on soil science. _Muslim_ names. Chemists, biologists, agronomists, farmers...it's an endless list of sub-specialties. We narrowed it down by age, as we only want the young, and we had a gender-balanced list. And, of course, every single person on that list was a Muslim. We are not against Muslims; we are against useless people who are a burden or a disruption. These are the types of people we want."

"This is completely reasonable," said Thomas. "I could add my name to this proposal and we could make a joint submission to the Planning Committee."

"We already did this before you arrived. The Committee liked it. They already had a similar idea, we were just further ahead with the details. It was to be the model for every sector in the colony. For the mines, for food research, for the medical department, for the structural engineers. For every tiny function on Hestia. We could have made a list of criteria for suitable candidates based on skill, age, and, of course, religion. But the Muslim side rejected it."

"For, the first batch of arrivals, yes," said Thomas. "We have no idea what criteria the other side had set for selection. But perhaps now the Muslims back on Earth would accept our reasoning for how we want to select further colonists."

"No. Our proposal has already been rejected for the next batch of arrivals, and for the batch after that. Did the Committee not inform you?"

Thomas did his best to not show his small shock.

"I'm beginning to find more and more that there is much the Committee does not inform me about," said Thomas.

"I think they want you to sort out problems on Mars that are right in front of you," said Filip.

"Preventing problems in the first place would be preferable," replied Thomas.

Filip smirked.

"Well, we had a unique chance in human history to create something truly new," said Filip. "A new type of community in an untouched place. We didn't kill anybody to take this land. We didn't force a single person to come here. We chose people carefully. We wanted nothing to do with Earth's problems. We had a chance to quarantine Earth. To start new. And now, here we are. Look what Earth is doing to us. Look how they are punishing us."

"You want to leave Earth behind. I understand that. Earth will never be truly fixed. And it's true. They are, in a way, sending problems here. You want to be a scientific research colony that transitions into a terraforming colony. But Hestia is not able to separate itself from Earth just yet. You rely on Earth for vital material that you cannot yet produce here."

"So, we should consider this the price of the relationship?" asked Filip.

"For the time being, yes," replied Thomas. "In the meantime, I will try to sell Hamit on the idea of recruiting scientists and skilled specialists who are Muslim. This idea has been pushed for numerous times in the process and the Muslim side back on Earth rejects it every time. That's clear to me now. But maybe the Muslim side will listen to Hamit if he gives them a Muslim perspective from Mars."

"Will they really listen to Hamit?" asked Filip.

"I have no idea. I'm still trying to figure out where he sits in their structures, and what sort of influence he has. But it's worth a try, I suppose."

One day later

"Thomas, I told this to their faces when I was on Earth. Several times," said Hamit. "I wasn't able to speak to the Arab side, but my connections on the Turkish side were high enough to speak to anyone in the civilian leadership. I said that the groups that come after mine should include scientists and engineers. The Muslim world has many such people. Even if we selected only from Turkey, we could find them. But they rejected this."

"But why?" asked Thomas.

"I don't know. I gave my best speech about the long history of science and technological advancement in Islamic civilizations. But they just nodded politely and said that they had made some sort of agreement with the Arab countries, and that no further changes to our group could be made."

"An agreement? What sort of agreement?" asked Thomas.

"They wouldn't tell me. They just said that it was final. We Turks have to make many accommodations with the Arabs. They provide the majority of the soldiers and most of the money, but they have agreed to leave the overall military command to us. This is no secret. So, we must give them certain things in return."

Thomas felt defeated once again, but he comforted himself with the fact that it was not Hamit's doing.

"I submit monthly reports to Ankara and Istanbul," said Hamit. "And I can again suggest the virtue of selecting those with appropriate skills in the next few groups. But I can't promise that they will change their minds. But maybe at least the Turkish side will agree to this."

"Sure, that sounds like a good plan. I hope they reconsider."

"God willing, yes."

Thomas then let the conversation pause long enough for it to become awkward.

"I should ask, since maybe you get updates before I do...The new residential section, will it be finished soon?" asked Hamit. "I keep hearing conflicting dates."

"The Committee thinks it'll be ready in about three months. The sulfur concrete structures are done. They are working on the final sealant layer at the moment. It's just the water, plumbing and electricity that's still to come. Next month's Russian cargo delivery will provide the remainder of the required material."

"That's good," said Hamit. "I went to the temporary dormitories and apologized to all the young Hestian men there who gave up their personal residences so that our families could move in. We will soon be able to give them back their living spaces."

"Oh, no, that's not...I mean, those of you who have your own residence units will stay where you are. The half of your group who are in shared sleeping spaces will move to the new residential section when it's finished, along with about 500 of the original colonists. You won't have to move anywhere."

"Well, Thomas, we have been talking amongst ourselves and we came to a decision. We think it would be best if our entire group moved into the new residential quarter. We don't want to disturb the other colonists by taking their spaces."

"Hamit, I can tell you right now that the Committee and the Hestians are not going to like this idea."

"I don't understand."

"The result—intended or not—of your plan would be for there to be a separate Muslim residential section. This is exactly the sort of thing we don't want to recreate from Europe. You yourself earlier said that Europeans had pushed Muslim immigrants into certain neighborhoods. The Hestians will say we are creating a Muslim ghetto. And so will people back on Earth."

"These days everybody says _ghetto_ as if it is always a bad thing," said Hamit. "But history is full of great cities with ghettos where people peacefully coexisted for generations, and even longer. Certainly, for longer periods of peace than Europe has ever managed."

"So, separate but equal?" asked Thomas.

"Exactly! You Europeans think integration is synonymous with stability. But history has shown another, more peaceful, way. Take Istanbul, for example. For half a millennium of Muslim rule there existed in that city Greek, Armenian and Jewish quarters."

"But it didn't end so well for them, did it?"

"After almost 500 years, no," said Hamit. "It did not end well. Centuries of peaceful coexistence were destroyed by the disease of nationalism. The caliphate fell at the hands of Europe and was replaced by a single man who so desperately sought to emulate those enemies who had brought about the end of Ottoman rule. Ataturk nearly destroyed Islam. It took the Turks well over a century to recover. And in that time the European tool of nationalism divided a living, breathing body into several diseased and dying parts. The Greeks, Armenians, Jews and Turks all began to think of themselves as communities that should have their own nations. And the collateral damage included the Christian quarters, just as the Muslim communities of Greece suffered. The Jewish quarter completely died with the rise of Israel and Zionism, of course. It had nothing to do with how Muslims treated the Jews. And did you know that the Jews of Istanbul were those that were welcomed into the Ottoman Empire hundreds of years earlier _after_ fleeing Christian persecution in Europe?"

Thomas sensed that Hamit was at his most enthusiastic when giving lectures.

"Well, you will find that the colonists here want to discard much of how human society functioned on Earth," said Thomas. "So, selling them this plan based on some Armenian neighborhood from hundreds of years ago in Istanbul is not exactly..."

"Yes, I understand this," said Hamit as he interrupted Thomas. "But why throw away those ways of doing things on Earth that actually worked quite well. Combine the best of inter-communal tolerance from Muslim history with those techniques that you perfected in such a short time in Hamburg."

Thomas recognized the attempt at flattery, but he was also not completely opposed to Hamit's idea. He couldn't say from his own experience whether mixed neighborhoods led to more stability than segregated neighborhoods.

From here the conversation ranged back and forth with regular detours through Hamit's recollections of an idyllic Muslim history. Thomas' resistance slowly began to weaken, but he still objected to completely Muslim and European quarters.

"OK, what if you gave your people the choice?" asked Thomas. "Members of your community who have a living unit in the original colony area can stay where they are if they choose. And those Hestians living in shared accommodation can choose to move into an apartment in the new residential sector if they want."

"And will the Planning Committee agree to this?"

"I have no idea," replied Thomas. "We need to work out the details of your proposal quickly and then I can submit it."

"Why don't we both submit it, as partners?" asked Hamit.

"Hamit, I will help you in whatever way I can while you write the proposal. And I will submit it. But I can't put my name to this. On this proposal I can serve as an advisor, but I can't advocate for or against."

Four months later

"What are they saying in your workplace about the new residence sector?" asked Thomas.

"They are calling it the _Muslim sector_ ," replied Filip.

"Well, at least they aren't calling it a ghetto."

"Oh, no. A few people did call it a ghetto. They are not happy about it, if you are wondering."

Thomas sighed.

"Are the Muslims happy with it, at least?" asked Filip.

"A little too happy," replied Thomas. "At the beginning some of them were making strong demands for their own Muslim-only residential area. They were uncomfortable with their wives and daughters having to share communal space with strangers and men."

"What, the dining halls? And the kitchens?"

"Yes, in those areas," said Thomas. "But the showers, specifically."

"Jesus Christ! The showers are private, only the changing rooms are communal, and those only with the same sex."

"I know. I made that argument with Hamit. He was not part of the one-third who were uncomfortable with this. But some of the more conservative Muslims saw Hestian men wearing only a towel walking from their rooms to the showers. I guess they don't want their daughters seeing that..."

"So what's with the other two-thirds? How did we end up with ninety percent of the Muslims moving into a segregated residence sector?" asked Filip.

"When the Committee granted the thirty percent their own sector—with communal areas for them and them only—most of the others then decided that they want the same thing. So in the end, enough Muslims were asking for their own residence sector that it was decided to let any Muslim who wants to move into the new sector to do so."

"That still only leaves it a quarter full. Will we be moving other Hestians into the new sector so that we're not a segregated colony?" asked Filip.

"No. Originally there was a proposal for Hestians to move in there at the same time, but now Hamit has asked to leave their sector three-quarters empty until the next group of Muslims arrive and fill those empty rooms."

"That's it? We are now fully segregated?" said Filip.

"No," said Thomas. "About ten percent of the Muslims have chosen to stay where they are in the original Hestian residence areas."

"So, a full Muslim neighborhood, but with a few of them sprinkled elsewhere?" asked Filip.

"Yes, basically."

"Sounds like how it was in Europe."

One week later

"Hi Thomas, grab a seat," said Mila. "We only have a one issue today that we need feedback on."

Thomas looked around the table at the Planning Committee members. They looked tired and annoyed. Only Mila, the Committee Head, seemed like she had any energy.

"Can you tell us what this colony name problem is all about?" asked Mila.

"Sure," said Thomas. "The short version is that some of the more religious Muslims have been going around saying that Hestia is named for a pagan god. And they have a problem with that. They convinced some of the others in the community that they should not live in a place named for something heretical."

"Will they ask for the days of the week to be renamed? Those are pagan gods also," said another Committee member with disdain.

"Days of the week were not discussed, and they won't be, as no Muslim in Europe has ever objected to that," replied Thomas. "But they did point out that some Norse gods were, in the past and even today, used as symbols and names for fascist groups and movements."

"Co-opted, that is," said Mila. "You'll need to tell Hamit that there are a few followers of paganism here on Hestia, and that his community needs to respect their beliefs. Tell him that some terrorists have used paganism in the same way that other terrorists have used Islam, and that that does not invalidate the beliefs of peaceful followers. Tell him that in those exact words, and tell him that he must deliver that message to his community. And don't let him charm or talk you in circles."

"Clear enough," said Thomas.

"Are they really going to make a fuss over the name of our colony?" asked a Committee member.

"It was only a small group that felt this way. The majority of Muslims here have no problem with living in a colony that is named for the Greek goddess of the home and family. But they were enthusiastic about their own sector taking a new name, as opposed to a range of housing unit numbers. They say that the name change signifies a new beginning."

"I don't know how to pronounce the name that they've chosen. In the messages I received it's been spelled several different ways," said Mila.

" _al-Mua'qqibat_. They wrote _al-Mua'qqibat Quarter_ on the wall just past the internal airlock at the entrance to their sector," said Thomas.

"al-Mua'qqibat? What does that mean, exactly?" asked Mila.

"Hamit says it is a kind of guardian angel in Islam," answered Thomas. "The belief is that there are two angels protecting you, one standing behind you and another in front. He said it is also sort of a reference to the two airlocks protecting their sector."

"Well, thank God for that," said Mila. "I was worried it might be the name of some Muslim conqueror or general, or some such menacing name."

"But it still is a strong symbol of the segregation and lack of integration we now have here," said a Committee member in frustration as he stood to leave.

"Yes, meeting adjourned. There is no more productive discussion to be had," said Mila.

Two days later

"I'm sorry to bring this up, Thomas," said Hamit, "especially after there were no serious objections to giving our residence a new name. But there is an issue that has been brought to my attention. Members of the mining crew and other people from my community are concerned about a name they see being used on your side."

"There are no names apart from _Hestia_ ," replied Thomas. "Just sector numbers and descriptions of sector use."

"It's not a sector name. Some of the Hestians on the mining crew have put a name and a symbol on their equipment. It reads _Carolus Martellus_ , above a stencil of a hammer."

"Carolus Martellus? That's Latin for..."

"Charles Martel. Thomas, I researched this. He was a French king who killed many Muslims. Later his name was used by terrorists who mass murdered Muslims."

"I vaguely know who Charles Martel was," said Thomas. "But I'm not really familiar with his name being used in modern times. When was this?"

"I did some research. It happened during the 1970s and 1980s in France. They were called _The Charles Martel Group_. And then forty years later he inspired a mass murder at a mosque in New Zealand. Now the mining crew is using his name and the hammer symbol. His name means _hammer_ in French. And also, some Hestians have put this on the back of their phones."

"I've never heard of that terrorist group," said Thomas. "But for the name in general, Charles Martel led his forces against an Arab army that was raiding France. It's going to be difficult for me to tell them to stop using the name of someone who they see as having defended Europe."

"But you agree at the very least that this is unhelpful, right?"

"I'm dealing with some people in Hestia who won't like being told which historical heroes to be ashamed of," said Thomas. "And right now I have problems getting all of them to accept that the name of your quarter is not threatening."

"How so?" asked Hamit.

"They reply that your quarter is named for a guardian angel that kills evil demons. And these Hestians wonder if the Muslims consider them to be the evil demons that your community needs protection from."

"This is pure ignorance!" said Hamit. "They are the same as the guardian angels in Christianity and Judaism."

"Yes, but do you see my dilemma? I'm pushing back against ideas like this regularly. But I will have difficulties at the same time telling them that they should erase Charles Martel's hammer from a mining drill. They will say that just because some terrorists used that king's name does not mean that they should dispose of European history."

"Will you bring this issue to the Committee, regardless?" asked an exasperated Hamit.

"You have the option for a monthly meeting with the Committee, which you seldom take. You can talk to them face-to-face on this issue. Having me handle the most contentious issues may not always be the best approach."

"OK, I will bring this issue to the Committee myself, as long as you can bring a new water issue to them on our behalf," said Hamit.

"What's the matter? You have a water allotment that should be enough for a full sector, and al-Mua'qqibat is only fifty percent occupied."

"We get plenty of recycled water for the showers and the toilets and the kitchens. And we have enough glacier water to use for ablutions. It is available at the mosque. The issue is that our mining crew have seen that it is possible to take much more ice from the glacier than we are at the moment. We could easily convert all of our sector to this water supply, with no effort on the part of Hestia."

"Your people were OK with using recycled water for drinking and bathing," said Thomas. "But then they wanted us to supply them with glacier water so that they could be ritually clean before prayers. And now you are saying that they want glacier water for everything?"

"Like I said, it wouldn't take any extra effort from those in Hestia. We will supply all the extra labor needed. We could..."

"Wait, just a second," said Thomas as he interrupted Hamit. "You're saying that the Muslim community wants to fully switch to glacier water so that they may have ritually-clean water for things that don't require ritually clean water, and yet you will still flush your toilets and send your waste to the recycling unit, allowing Hestia to drink and bathe in water that you consider filthy and beneath you? Because that is exactly how the large majority of Hestians will see it."

"Thomas, be reasonable. That is the worst possible interpretation of what we are asking."

"Hamit. The worst possible interpretations for your community's motivations are becoming increasingly common. The Hestians feel more and more every day that your people are taking advantage of the colony. I'm just letting you know what the Hestians and the Committee don't say to your face."

"But this requires no change in lifestyle for the Hestians, and no extra effort on their part. Literally nothing will change for them."

"Hamit, I won't take this to the Committee, and I suggest in the strongest possible terms that you don't attempt to bring this to them yourself. OK?"

Hamit did not reply.

### Chapter Four

"... _as the vilest writer hath his readers, so the greatest liar hath his believers: and it often happens, that if a lie be believed only for an hour, it hath done its work... Falsehood flies, and truth comes limping after it, so that when men come to be undeceived, it is too late;...the tale hath had its effect..."_

\- Jonathan Swift, 1710

" _A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent."_

\- William Blake, Auguries of Innocence, 1803

Hamit was quite upset as he opened his door to Thomas.

"Tell me why, please. Tell me why Hestia is welcoming this insane English Islamophobe who calls himself a journalist!" demanded Hamit.

"That's the deal imposed on us: two journalists are arriving. One from Turkey and one from...well, from England and America. He appears to have combined the citizenship of a declined power and a rapidly declining power. But he has worked in Europe for the last decade."

"But he works for the Americans, doesn't he?"

"He's been working for the last few years for America One News," said Thomas. "But the arrangement is that his reporting will be shared by multiple news outlets in Europe and the United States, if they so choose to publish his articles and videos."

"But why this madman?" asked Hamit.

"Europe must defer to its member states. And many governments in Europe are coalition governments. Some of the smaller parties can make demands in exchange for their votes. Sometimes it's a very long list that goes beyond major concessions. One of the far-right parties in Belgium had a member who inserted a demand for this guy to be given access to Mars. Apparently that party member is in contact with some right-wing American Congressmen and British MPs. They are all big fans of this reporter."

"I saw some of his old videos," said Hamit. "He accompanied terrorist militias. In one report he was with a mixed Hungarian and American militia full of mercenaries in Crusader tattoos. He even carried his own gun."

"Try not to object to that particular report if you talk to the Committee about this."

"Why?"

"Because that militia lost more than half its fighters defending Austria from a Turkish offensive," said Thomas. "Many here consider them heroes."

"This militia also expelled or murdered all the Muslims in Austria!"

"Some of the Hestians and at least two of the Committee members will reply that the occupying Muslim army did worse things to Austrian civilians," said Thomas.

"Which are lies."

"Hamit, I can't make you believe the testimony of victims. I'm just telling you what the Hestians will think," said a slightly exasperated Thomas. "Now what's your opinion of the other reporter?"

"The journalist from Turkey is harmless. I saw his broadcasts and reports. He seems like a very honest person. But this American is a liar and a propagandist."

"Well, we have to host these journalists for almost 500 days," said Thomas. "I would like to hear some realistic ideas for how to handle these two reporters."

"Really, how are we supposed to work for 500 days to keep this crazy American from inciting the non-Muslims here? That is what he and other journalists did while sparking the war in Europe."

Thomas had a plan that he had been thinking over for a while.

"You know, Hamit, instead of keeping him as far away as possible from the Muslim colonists, why don't we do the exact opposite?"

"I hope you don't mean to have him share my bedroom!" laughed Hamit.

"Not quite," replied Thomas. "Maybe somewhere in between. The idea would be to have him live in the Muslim quarter, but in a very calculated manner."

"How so?"

"Surround him by the type of families that would be the sort you meet in a village in Anatolia. Friendly, warm, charming, infinitely welcoming."

"So we overwhelm him with hospitality," said Hamit with a smile. "But will he agree to live here?"

"I'll talk to Mila. I'm sure we can give him no choice in the matter. Or we don't even have to tell him at first. We just walk him right to his residence and introduce him to his neighbors."

"This may work," said Hamit. "He may have a change of heart and end up with a long list of Muslim best friends. But this man doesn't seem particularly stable, judging by his yelling fits I've seen online. He may have some mental problems. He might end up killing us."

"We can always move him out if he starts chasing around Muslims with a dinner fork."

"Out onto the surface?" joked Hamit.

"If that was an option, I think we could get the colony to vote him out onto the Martian sand dunes the day of his arrival."

"If only..."

"Do you think you could get your people to agree to this?" asked Thomas. "To hosting an obvious Islamophobe?"

"If I can explain our reasoning for this, then yes. I'm sure they will agree to give this plan a chance. I just need to think about who exactly I will have as his neighbors, and about who we do _not_ want as his neighbors."

"Sounds good."

"And what about the Turkish reporter?" asked Hamit.

"Same deal. We stick him in Hestia with European neighbors."

"Agreed."

300 days later

"Hi. You must be Graham," said Thomas as he spotted the journalist shuffling down the hall on crutches.

"I suppose I'm recognizable around here for being the only cripple?" replied Graham.

"Actually, there is a quadriplegic man here. Construction accidents happens on Mars as well."

"Hmm," replied Graham with complete disinterest.

"I wanted to come say hi, but I heard that your rehabilitation was not going well. How was your voyage?" asked Thomas.

"It was horrible. I was confined to the crew quarters with the Russians. They never let me out, even though I said I had plans to make regular reports during transit."

"Based on your views I would think that you would enjoy being separated from the Muslims. Almost 500 of them in a single spacecraft doesn't really put the odds in your favor."

"I couldn't care less about them," said Graham. "I wanted to move around, look out the windows and use the good exercise equipment at the very least. The Russian crew equipment that I had to use was useless. And the Russians gave me very restrictive hours for when I could exercise. So I quit. The rehab team said that I'm the worst case they've ever seen for muscle atrophy and bone weakness."

"Let's be honest," said Thomas. "Based on what you've said about Muslims in the past, I would say that the segregated voyage was for your protection—and theirs."

"And now? I assume it's some sort of twisted joke on the part of the Planning Committee to send me to live in the Muslim quarter."

"Headquarters back in Europe decides how your voyage goes, but the Hestia Planning Committee is in charge of residence assignments. Hestia was full, al-Mua'qqibat has plenty of free space."

"I can't live with these people," said Graham. "It doesn't matter who's at fault in your mind, it's just a terrible idea."

"Well, they sent the Muslim reporter to live in Hestia amongst the Europeans, and he's not complaining."

"Because he knows Europeans will treat him fairly. But these Muslims, how long before they kill me in my sleep?"

"I think you'll find that they are not plotting your imminent murder," replied Thomas.

"Easy for you to say when you live safely in the non-Muslim sector."

"We're actually at about ten percent Muslim now in our sector. And I go to the al-Mua'qqibat Quarter several days a week. I haven't been stabbed yet."

"Well, that's because you haven't spent the last decade reporting the truth about Islam from the frontlines like I have," said Graham. "I'm a target."

"Hmm," replied Thomas with a shrug.

"And it seems that the Hestians have been conditioned to hate me as well."

"That's a little strong," said Thomas. "I would just say that they don't really go for the type of reporting that your employer does. They don't want to be your friend, sure. But they aren't out to get you."

"Well, I won't be reporting for their benefit," said Graham. "My reporting is for an audience on Earth that is skeptical of this radical leftist experiment that you Martians have going on."

" _Hestians_. Only the children born here are referred to as Martians. It's in the material you should have read in-transit."

Graham did not respond.

"Well, since you won't ask my name, it's Thomas. I do community relations here."

"Between the Muslims and the non-Muslims?" asked Graham, suddenly interested in the conversation.

"No. Between the Planning Committee and the people in general. But issues involving the Muslim community are the bulk of my workload, yes."

"OK, yeah. I know who you are now. I hear that you are one of those _multikulti_ Germans."

"That word hasn't been used in Germany for quite a while. And like Germany, you will find that reality here differs greatly to what is portrayed in the American media."

"Yeah, so you're an apologist for the Islamofascist invaders," said Graham. "That's clear enough."

"Graham, you won't like me, and I won't like you. Nobody likes you, in fact. Some of the teenage boys and a few of the angrier young men thought that you would be cool, but when they met you, they were disappointed. You'll find that the kids here have IQs and critical thinking skills that are light-years ahead of the average person back on Earth. The selection process for the Mars colony weeded out the gullible. It's a tough crowd here for somebody like you."

"Gullible? You are one of those Europeans who never saw the front lines," said Graham. "You hid behind those willing to fight for their land and their culture and their survival. You people probably believed the Turks and Arabs when they said they came to Europe to liberate oppressed Muslims. But it's a fact that they sent in a first wave of soldiers and terrorists disguised as refugees, immigrants, guest workers and illegal migrants, then started a conflict, and then said that they needed to send their armies to Greece and the Balkans to protect Muslims. And people like you believed all of that. But they didn't stop there, did they?"

"Your European political debate talking points won't get you far here on Mars. You will find that what happens on Earth gets less and less relevant each day here in Hestia."

"I disagree," said Graham. "Look, how are we supposed to view the Muslims that have been sent to Mars? They have a pattern throughout their history...just a few Muslims will come: a merchant, a doctor, a student, a laborer, a preacher. And then within a couple of generations they are no longer guests, but occupiers enslaving the non-Muslims. If Hestia waits too long to act, they will be subjugated. Tell me to my face that that is not one-hundred percent historical fact."

"Like I said, people here have highly developed critical thinking skills and your low-end fascist propaganda tactics won't get you very far in Hestia."

"Propaganda? People like you called people like me liars when we said that the Muslims were enslaving Europeans. When your type read our news reports about the Muslim-occupied areas, you said we were relaying right-wing lies. Multicultural propagandists like you said that there were no large slavery and mass-rape operations. Your people in the government pressured the media into not reporting stories from the refugees and from the Europeans behind enemy lines, but now that the south of France is liberated, the stories from the people there who lived under occupation are so numerous that your lies and your propaganda about peaceful coexistence cannot stand."

Thomas did not reply. He did his best to give off a sense of total boredom and disinterest.

"You people never do stand up to open debate," said Graham. "So what is it you want from me today?

"I'm here to deliver a message from the Committee. They can, if they want, confine you to your room. Like a small child that has misbehaved. The maintenance guys will come and put a lock on the outside of your door and your meals will be delivered to you. You will be banned from the internet and from any sort of communication that is not pre-approved. You'll be let out twice a week to use the showers. If you misbehave, this will happen to you for the next 500 days until your return trip."

"No, you can't do that," said Graham. "Those are not the agreed-upon terms of my trip."

"If you have some Senator back in America lobbying for you, then you should tell that Senator that he now has zero leverage over Europe," said Thomas. "American militiamen are gone from Europe, and, with it, the last piece of leverage that the American government had. But I hear that you are also English. You can try London as well if you want. I'm sure headquarters in Europe would love to hear from some government even more pathetic than what you can find in Washington."

Graham was furious. He gripped his crutches tighter.

"So, this is the threat that the Committee asked me to deliver: if any of your reports have any language that incites hatred or tells lies about what is happening here on Mars, then the lock goes on your door."

Graham scowled, turned away and shuffled down the hall, leaning heavily on his crutches.

Later that same day

"Hey! Thomas!" yelled a greenhouse scientist.

"Yeah, that's me."

"You're here to meet Filip, right?"

"Yeah."

"He had to run into the lava tube to do a quick chore. He'll be back soon if you want to hang out in the greenhouse."

"He just messaged me ten minutes ago, I must have missed him on the way here," said Thomas.

"Oh, no. He went out the airlock and walked to the secondary lava tube entrance. It's way quicker."

"You guys can just go out the airlocks whenever you want?" asked Thomas.

"If it's for work, then yes," replied the scientist.

"Cool. I'm jealous."

"Sorry, I'm Daniel," said the scientist as he reached out to shake Thomas' hand.

"Nice to meet you," said Thomas. "You're one of the army of scientists that hide out here all day?"

"Scientists? Yes, but think of us instead as really smart monkeys. We are not the geniuses making the breakthroughs."

"No?"

"Every researcher here is matched by 1,000 or even 10,000 counterparts in the same field back on Earth," said Daniel. "And every scientist here is affiliated to a university or government lab on Earth. Being a scientist here feels a bit like a lab assistant at times."

"But a lab assistant who makes breakthroughs on a regular basis, I'm hoping," said Thomas.

"Well, actually, on Earth they have the manpower, the money, time, resources and all that," said Daniel. "So, who is going to make the big breakthroughs? It will be someone or some team back on Earth who makes a big leap forward that is relevant for Mars."

"Like what?"

"Like some innovative new process that could help with terraforming on a shorter timescale," said Daniel.

"What are you hoping for, of the goals you see as realistic?"

"I grew up in southern Spain, a twenty-minute bicycle ride from the Mediterranean. My dream is to see an ocean here on Mars before I die. Or, realistically, maybe just a small sea. And I would like to travel there in a lightweight suit, not these horrible radiation-protective suits we have to wear right now."

"And how would that happen?" asked Thomas.

"You've read about the proposals for a magnetic shield, right?"

"Yes, but I thought that it was a very far off prospect. As in, maybe, several generations away."

"It is," said Daniel. "But that's where I hope for some new innovation, or a series of breakthroughs. I might live another sixty years. I would hope technology will continue to progress during this time. So maybe someone on Earth figures out some reasonable solution to the numerous difficulties in putting a small magnetic shield array in the L1 Lagrange Point."

"That's like a high Mars orbit?"

"Just a little farther, actually," said Daniel with a smile. "It's a job for people on Earth, really. We have zero chance of building something like that from here. But the benefits would be revolutionary. It would be the first real step in terraforming. The artificial magnetosphere would reduce radiation and deflect the solar wind, protecting the atmosphere so that it could thicken instead of being lost to space over time, and warm us up enough for the frozen carbon dioxide to sublimate. Add to that some other powerful greenhouse gasses that we could release. Then we have runaway global warming and melting of the polar ice caps. A thicker atmosphere! More pressure! Well, not very much pressure. But enough pressure and warmth to give us liquid water—maybe a small sea, and relatively quickly."

"Does any of this involve your area of specialty?" asked Thomas.

"No. I'm a biologist," replied Daniel. "We are waiting for absolutely every other chore to be finished here before we starting throwing seeds and spores onto the ground outside. And even with every atmospheric terraforming problem solved, we still have some very unfriendly soil here on Mars. We biologists are the last phase of terraforming."

"What do you spend your days doing?"

"I teach two biology classes, four days per week. One for the teenagers, and one for the six to eight-year-olds. The rest of the time I'm working on creating radiation resistant soil bacteria. Specifically, the type that decomposes organic matter. I'm basically cleaning up the kitchen scraps and watching them rot."

"You work on the organic recyclers?" asked Thomas.

"No. I'm with a totally different group. We just take a small amount of food waste and plant material to throw onto our patch of soil. We do observations and send them to those data thieves back on Earth. Our partner lab there is attached to a consortium of Spanish universities in exile. I guess France is now their permanent home...and our permanent home. My family's new home."

Thomas didn't have anything to say in response.

"You know, I left Spain when..."

"Yeah, I'm sorry," said Thomas. "I didn't want to ask if you were from the north or the south."

Daniel stood in silence, looking away to the side. He let out a long breath.

"I'm still so angry," said Daniel as the conversation abruptly left the realm of science. "My home is dead. There are Arabs living in the house that my family had owned for over two hundred years. My country is dead."

Daniel was now clearly upset.

"I'm sorry. My mood...I remember things from Spain and I...I'm sorry. When I left Earth, the Arabs were trying to push into northern Spain. I can still remember the exact moment when I heard on the news that the frontline troops on the Muslim side included Spanish children, force-converted to Islam and now teenage fanatics, wanting to murder us all. And I thought, are my nephews among them?"

Daniel's hands started to shake. He apologized as he abruptly turned and walked away.

Thomas sat on the bench and waited. He reminded himself that there was nothing comforting he could say to a person in a situation like this. He knew this from Earth, both from experience and training.

Five minutes later Daniel returned.

"I'm sorry. These are my problems, not yours. I'm sorry to talk about them in front of you."

"That's OK," said Thomas.

"This is not a good time to get angry," said Daniel. "You know, I sometimes go for days without thinking about it. And then suddenly I start to think about home. But, especially now, I should try to shut this anger off during the work day. We have people from the second Muslim group working in the greenhouses now as lab techs and scientists, not just as students and trainees like with the first group."

"How are they doing?"

"Oh, fine. No problems. They really are biologists, and they can speak basic English. Of course, not all of them have relevant specialties or long experience, but they are smart and ready to learn."

"How do you compare them to the Hestian biologists?" asked Thomas.

"Well, I suppose we were experienced researchers when we were recruited. They are like us when we were graduate students. They are behind us, but on their way to becoming competent researchers."

"Well, that's good news."

"Not really," said Daniel. "Because of the need to transport all of these people, we have had to neglect deliveries of materials that are desperately needed to continue our research. Can you believe it? We paid the Russians to launch four of their Ultra Heavy-lift rockets so that we could bring 500 people in one single trip. That trip could have been the largest cargo delivery we have ever received."

Thomas listened silently.

"Much of the cutting-edge research has stopped," continued Daniel. "We just don't have the chemicals, substances and tools that we need. Every other research lab here is facing similar problems. Research has slowed down significantly."

"Oh, I didn't know that," said Thomas. "I hope things get better for your laboratory."

"I hope so too," said Daniel. "I want things to get better. But there are so many problems standing in our way here, and on Earth. These new people in our lab are fine, but they are not the majority in their community. There are still so many bad future scenarios in my head."

"Any good ones?"

"I want something simple. I just want my old home back, even if I can never see it again. I want for my family on Earth to be able to return home to southern Spain. And for me, something grander. I want an ocean on Mars. But I will not live to see either of these things, and the Muslims are the cause of that. This is all so unfair. It is unjust."

Thomas had seen the look on Daniel's face so many times on the faces of so many people. This was the first time he saw it on Mars.

One week later

"Your teeth are in perfect condition, just like almost everyone else," said the smiling dentist as she moved back and adjusted her loose-fitting hijab. "It's amazing what you can do with oral health when sugar disappears from everyone's diet."

Thomas leaned forward and sat up in the chair.

"Thanks, Aliya. But really? No cleaning or x-rays or anything?"

"No. There's nothing to clean, and we only x-ray for cavities when someone complains of pain or sensitivity. You're all good."

"Really?"

"Yes," said Aliya. "There is actually little point in these mandatory annual check-ups for those who have been here for more than a couple of years. I should probably be dedicating more time to the newest arrivals. Some of them actually do need work done."

"Even compared to the first group you arrived with?"

"Yes. Health standards were lower for some in the second group. The doctors and dentists have been getting more work lately."

"Huh. I never really thought there was much of a big difference," said Thomas.

"There are many differences, on average. Hamit has not discussed this with you?"

"Not in any detail, no."

"What does Hamit discuss with you, actually?" asked Aliya.

"We spend our time on misunderstandings and other assorted minor problems," said Thomas jokingly.

"But you don't speak to the rest of our community very often, do you?" said Aliya.

"Not as much as I would like."

"Why do you think that is?" she asked.

"Why don't I talk to those in the Muslim community more often? Probably because whenever I've done it in the past, Hamit gets slightly agitated."

"Yes, that is obvious to everyone."

"I'm sorry, Aliya, I'm not asking you to inform on your community, but could you..."

"Sure, no problem. This is what is happening: Hamit wants to be the one to speak for the community, but the way he does it is to restrict community members from talking to you or the Planning Committee directly. He is trying to control what information gets to you. He is a...gatekeeper of information."

"What sort of information do you think is not getting to me?" asked Thomas.

"Well, for example, the fact that Hamit only has the strong support of the first group of Muslims. But with this new group, they have accepted his authority for now, but I would not call them supporters of Hamit. As it is now, I think less than half of the Muslim quarter supports him."

"Why would some people in al-Mua'qqibat not support him?" asked Thomas.

"Well, the new arrivals don't know him. So he hasn't earned their trust and respect yet. Plus, there is the fact that he is a Turk. Some of the Arabs think that, of course, an Arab should be the leader. But this is just like the military leadership on Earth. The Turks have the overall military command, and the Arabs follow that command and provide the budget for now, but they would rather not have Turks telling them what to do. It's a constant negotiation."

"So, nationalism is dividing Muslims?"

"Here on Mars, just as on Earth, yes," replied Aliya.

"And any other divides in the community?"

"Sure, I'm a refugee," said Aliya. "I fled Norway with all the other Muslims, but I didn't want to take part in the European resettlement that the Turks and Arabs forced on Europe, as that would just be going right back into the arms of our oppressors. So I decided to try for Mars. And when they originally started to recruit Muslims for the Mars colony, they said that the majority would be Muslim refugees from Europe. That didn't turn out to be true, but I wasn't too worried when the group turned out to have a refuge minority. However..."

Aliya paused.

"These Turks and Arabs who aren't refugees from Europe, they are very privileged people, they know nothing about suffering. My family does. The Norwegian people turned into monsters. My brother was murdered by a mob. My little sister was raped. My father saw his business burn, and the insurance company refused to pay out. We were so brutalized emotionally that we took the Norwegian government's offer of organized expulsion. Anywhere was better, we thought. We left without a buyer for our apartment. Norwegians were offering us ten percent its real value. We locked our door and left. But no airport in any Muslim country would accept our scheduled flight, so we were put on an old ferry. Muslim country after Muslim country refused to let our ship into port. They said that would just support further ethnic cleansing in Europe. We sailed around the Mediterranean like a ghost ship."

She paused again.

"Finally, the Turks directed us to Greece after they won the Balkan campaign, and we were assigned a house that used to belong to some Greek family. Maybe they were buried in the garden after they refused to accept Islam, or maybe they escaped to Germany. I don't know. Maybe in some crazy coincidence they were given my family's apartment in Oslo. Who knows?"

Aliya paused for thought again.

"Where was I going with this? Sorry, I derailed myself..."

"About divides amongst the Muslims here, and how being a refugee relates to that," replied Thomas.

"Oh, yes. So, I was relatively lucky for a refugee. My family was able to withdraw our money from our bank accounts in Norway and convert it to American dollars. As bad as the Norwegians were with violence, they didn't need our money—unlike most other countries in Europe. The result was that I had enough money to pay the bribes for the documents needed to leave Greece and go to Turkey with my sister, find a place to rent and go to work as a dentist serving the refugee community. But soon the Turks began to despise us refugees, and in many ways they pushed us out. So, I went to Beirut with the goal of finding work. Again, I paid a large bribe to be able to do this. And these Lebanese, they also didn't care for us, even though my father is Lebanese. Men treated me as a prostitute, and they made offers to buy my little sister, because some of the poorer refugees will sell their bodies to feed their families. We refugees, we were less than human to them."

"And here?" asked Thomas.

"Those Muslims who never lived in Europe, who never had to flee Europe, they act like we should be so grateful to them—our saviors!" said Aliya mockingly. "So no, I do not see them as people to look to as leaders. At best, my faith instructs me to accept them as brothers and sisters. And I do. But they see us as Europe's underclass. They see us as poor or working-class emigrants who grubbed for money as shopkeepers and waiters and cleaners. And they think they are the ones that should guide our community."

"Do you have anyone here that you look to as a leader?" asked Thomas.

"God guides me in my daily life, and my new husband...well, he supports me," said Aliya with a laugh. "That is enough."

"And your sister?"

"She followed me everywhere. I trained her as a dental hygienist. Now she looks after my parents in Greece. She..." said Aliya as she trailed off. "I'm sorry, can you leave me? I need to cry for a while."

Thomas left the room. As he walked down the hall a single thought appeared in his mind: he did not know the people in the Muslim sector like he did those in Hestia. Thomas realized that he was a stranger, and that the Muslims were still unknown people to him.

### Chapter Five

" _If you believe you are the city on the hill, the world's best hope, it is tempting also to believe that outside your boundaries are barbarians."_

-Linda Colley, 2004

" _Barbarians always think of themselves as the bringers of civilization."_

-Pierre Schaeffer, 1987

"So, why did you leave Earth?" asked Daniel.

Thomas thought that Daniel would avoid discussing Earth, as his memories of his lost home in Spain seemed to have upset him so much the previous day.

"I assume you are asking not the obvious question of what pulled me to Mars, but what pushed me from Earth?" asked Thomas.

"Yeah, sure. The pull factors that people cite are usually the same: adventure, new frontier, constructing a new future for humanity, their dream job, becoming an interplanetary species, that sort of thing."

"Well, I have no marriage and no kids," said Thomas. "So, I'm not held back in that way. I'm free to make my own decisions without consulting anyone. And I guess I would say that I was fatigued by this war. I was stressed out, every single day. And the government in Hamburg did not value what I did. They just made me a temporary local poster boy for peaceful coexistence. But they didn't think to ever again consult me or give me a career at any higher level. They just sort of...forgot. I had proved myself in a crisis. I helped save that city from violence. And they wanted me to go back to some little government-funded NGO office and write slogans about integration and tolerance for posters in the metro. In European governments they promote the incompetent and punish the competent. Why would I stay there?"

"Fair enough."

"And what pulled you to Mars?" asked Thomas.

"Science. And the dream of a terraformed Mars," said Daniel. "As for my wife, she was a physics PhD student before, so she has found a place with the materials science people testing lightweight radiation blocking materials."

"Kids?"

"Not yet. We discussed it, and we want to see if things calm down before we have children here."

"You're worried?" asked Thomas.

"My mind changes every day. I don't know what to think."

"How so?"

"I'll give you an example," said Daniel. "My wife and I were selected as welcomers when the Muslims arrived. This was not exactly easy. Remember that my home town was ethnically cleansed by Arabs. But we put that aside because we are on Mars, right? So we were assigned a Muslim family, and given their room number. We went over there with their quota of tea that the greenhouse gave to us, plus some dried fruit and nuts that we grew in our quarters. The Muslim guy was super friendly, but you know what he did? He opened the door to us and invited us in, but he had sent his wife and little daughter to hide in the bedroom. They never came out. He said that they were shy and couldn't speak English. I didn't think we would be getting such backwards people."

Thomas did not react.

"But then after leaving," continued Daniel, "we walked by some other Muslims and they invited us to sit with them at their table in one of the communal areas. There were women in this group and they talked to us. They shook our hands. The women looked me in the eye. Strange, right? If the Muslims here were all like the second group we met, then there wouldn't be any problems, and I would have no concerns whatsoever."

"It may have just been that the first woman and her daughter were shy because they really didn't speak English."

"That's what translator apps are for," said Daniel. "But I've heard that some of the Muslim women and girls have had their apps disabled by the men."

"It's a very small minority here, but yes, it's common enough for the man of the family to take his daughter's or his wife's phone and look through their messages, photos and browsing history. And they often erase apps they don't like."

"So, these guys can tell their wives whatever they want? They can basically control the information they get?"

"In many ways, yes," replied Thomas. "But again, it's just a small number here who do this."

"But just imagine if these Muslims had to pass the same gender-friendly tests we did. They searched for even the smallest faults. I knew of a guy who was disqualified in the later stages because they interviewed about twenty women who worked with him over the last decade, and they found one woman who said he made rude jokes about feminists on a couple of occasions in the workplace, loud enough for the women to hear."

Thomas listened silently.

"The screening was endless," continued Daniel. "First, I applied. And then I was shortlisted for the genetic screening. I passed that. I knew I would, as my family had done it when I was a kid. Then they did a background check on us all that was unprecedented. It went back decades for some of the older candidates. They interviewed my ex-girlfriends, friends, neighbors, co-workers. They must have done fifty interviews per candidate. I had a full psychological battery. Then the medical tests. Then I was stress tested for two years with the final candidates. We were given endless monotonous tasks and judged on how grumpy we got. We were isolated. We were then thrown into stressful situations with no privacy. They spied on us. They followed us. They eavesdropped on our communications. They eliminated some guy from the final group of candidates at the very end for sending out too many sexually aggressive texts to a girl who said she wasn't interested. They eliminated a couple because they found out that this couple had sent their dog to an animal shelter because it wasn't the dog they expected when they got it as a puppy. There were so many stories like that. And I fully agree with the selection criteria. We needed to get rid of the lazy, the selfish, the mean, the fearful, the overconfident, the narcissist, the bully, the criminal, the slow, the impatient, and those that would get sick here. But these Muslims...how were these people selected?"

Thomas stayed silent.

"And you know, Thomas, I still have no idea why these Muslims wanted to come here. I understand why their governments want a presence on Mars, but I just don't see why these sorts of people would want to be here."

"You could always ask them," said Thomas.

"Hmm," replied Daniel unenthusiastically.

"It's sometimes hard to determine people's motivations, especially across cultures and languages," said Thomas.

"But seriously, Mars? A science colony on Mars? I just don't see why they were interested in a one-way trip."

Thomas decided to again remain silent.

"Do you know about the phenomenon of cultural aversion to one-way trips?" asked Daniel.

"No. I haven't read anything about that."

"India did a study long ago, when they were actually considering coming to Mars. They did not have the money for families, only for astronauts. A one-way trip to Mars. Over ninety percent of the married astronauts in the India space program responded to researchers that they would not take a one-way trip to Mars."

"Not surprising," said Thomas.

"But would you be surprised that the astronauts who were not married responded negatively in the same numbers?" asked Daniel.

"That _is_ interesting."

"I got curious, so I quickly looked through every other study I could find. All of them showed that individualistic cultures like Europe, America and Australia were far more enthusiastic about leaving Earth behind forever. Others in the rest of the world or from other cultures are more constrained when it comes to space exploration. They can't imagine being permanently separated from their families, from their relatives, from their societies, from their sacred places. The ones from more communally-minded societies who were willing to go were motivated more so by desperation. The types of people from these non-European societies that we would want for our colony are bound to Earth. It's not an absolute rule, but it really made the selection process for Hestia difficult when it came to selecting a European citizen whose family origins were the Middle East or South Asia. Even those whose families had been in Europe for several generations were far less likely to want to come to Mars."

"So this is making you wonder why the people in this group agreed to come to Mars?" asked Thomas. "You are worried about...some sort of hidden motivations?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Do you know why they wanted to come?"

"Well..." said Thomas as he discarded the words that were just about to come out his mouth, "I'm not quite sure yet."

Thomas decided to not mention Hamit's explanation. He figured that the goal of spreading Islam to seven planets was an explanation that could be misinterpreted in many different ways.

Later that same day

Thomas had only been sitting at his table in the communal area for five minutes before the first concerned Hestian sat down to vent his feelings. The tired-looking man began talking without introducing himself and launched immediately into a French-accented monologue.

"Listen Thomas, my problem is this: the amount of work the first group put in—and by _first group_ I mean the ten percent of Hestians who were the first colonists who built this place—we worked so hard for this. Fifteen-hour days, six days a week, for an entire Mars year. We built this. It's ours. It's our home. And this new group has walked right into _our_ house and started making demands, in addition to having us house and feed and train them. We feel like there is no appreciation being shown. It's like they see us as weak. They see us as someone who should give in to their every demand. They come to us as immigrants, allegedly, but with the attitude of an occupying army."

"Their demands are reasonable requests if you look at each demand from their point of view," said Thomas. "None of their requests have made you pay any sort of price, have they?"

"No. No price. No physical harm. No deprivation, except for the loss of my private residence and my exile to a dormitory," replied the Frenchman. "But it is more so moral and psychological, what is being done to us."

"How so?"

"They demand pure glacier water, they get pure glacier water. They refuse donor sperm and embryos, and we give in despite the genetic harm this will do. They don't want to eat the protein paste, so they as a minority get to take almost the entire harvest of beans, seeds and nuts while we eat black soldier fly larvae. And you know what? The Committee is probably not forthcoming with the full range of concessions it has made. They tell us nothing. We find out through word of mouth. Through gossip."

"Listen, I think we have seen the end to this period of bargaining," said Thomas. "Nobody said it would be easy for our communities to integrate. But I think we have worked through the most contentious issues."

"No. The demands will not stop. They never did in Europe, did they? Can you honestly say that, after a period of adjustment, the Muslims in Europe were content with what they were given?"

"We're not in Europe anymore," said Thomas. "Here we can..."

"Thomas!" said the Frenchman, interrupting Thomas mid-sentence, "I didn't come here for a debate. I just came to tell you this: I speak for a lot of Hestians who prefer to keep their opinions to themselves. Be aware of that. We don't speak up because none of us wants a scolding from Auntie Mila."

And with that, the Frenchman excused himself and walked away, still without giving Thomas his name.

Thomas looked at the time on his phone and noted that it was best that the quick conversation ended, as he had an appointment scheduled at his table. He then flipped through his notes and re-read a few of the Hestian online forum posts that were brought to his attention.

Thomas read the last of the forum posts, all written by the same person:

" _Is this German guy Thomas trying to sell us what they sold us in Europe? It started well before I was born. The foreigner may do what he wants, and you may not criticize. He may stamp through your house without your permission, and you should let him. He may stare at your underage daughters, and you should not complain. Their children may mock the teachers who try to teach them about the Holocaust. They may cheer for foreign terrorists and foreign countries. They wave their flags in your country and still complain you won't accept them as European. And don't you point out who the rapists are. Don't point out who the thieves are. And when a gang of them in the metro bullies you, you should hang your head. And finally, when they start to kill you, you should not respond. And in the end some communist or anarchist tells you that it's all your fault._ "

Thomas put the phone aside and turned his attention to his mint tea, by now lukewarm. He wasn't looking forward to the meeting. He expected yet another high IQ Hestian with strong views and a multitude of facts and analysis at their quick disposal.

Ten minutes later, Thomas had exactly that on his hands as the surprisingly short Dutchman who had arrived at the table just minutes earlier launched into the fifth part of his five-part lecture.

"And, Thomas, this is how it began. Just a few refugees. That's what they said. Who could object to that? Then a few more. And more. And more. Then a flood. And then the refugees say that they can never go back, and they refuse to go back when we try to force them, and their countries refuse to take them back because they never wanted them in the first place. Then we ended up with millions of unemployed, unskilled and angry young foreign men. Yes, their countries are hell holes, but how many must we take? If every person in the world living in danger or poverty could move to Europe, then Europe would cease to exist. You people on the left, and the politicians in the center, you did nothing in response to the rapes, the bombings, the knifings, the crime. So yes, we voted in what you probably call the far right. But what you fail to recognize is that a party that takes almost forty percent of the vote is _not_ the far right. That's center-right. The people moved, and the political center moved with them. If a person talked like I am now at the beginning and warned Europe, he was called a fascist, but by the end he was called _Prime Minister_. The far-right and the nationalists and yes, the fascists, they were the only ones who promised to protect our borders and evict these invaders. And in the end, this is what we were given: an army of unemployed, criminal and terrorist Muslims and, as a result, an enraged European population that turned to the fascists—these idiot coward fascists who brought us this disaster. And I can see that in some of the young Hestian men now. Can you imagine what it will be like when there are an equal number of them here? I think Europe knows that this will fail. They're sacrificed us for the broader peace on Earth. We've been thrown to the wolves. Many people here believe that Hestia is now where Europe was thirty years ago. But the timeline will be sped up for us."

Thomas thought for a second to ready his response.

"Now I know that you think my views are bad," continued the Dutchman, "but you should hear from some of the younger guys. Maybe you should sit down with one of them and have a talk, because they are the future of Hestia."

As the Dutchman left the table, Thomas looked at the messages on his phone. With great dismay he saw a meteorology bulletin on the approaching dust storm. The next message was from the safety coordinator. Thomas' afternoon hike had been cancelled, along with all other outdoor activities for the next ten days.

Three days later

Thomas had let the teenager speak for himself for over ten minutes. The entire time he thought carefully about his reply, as it would not be to a white man, but to a black Swede with an African name.

"Amandi, I can kill this conspiracy theory in thirty seconds," said Thomas. "Listen, why would the Muslims want to kill us and take over the colony? Aside from moral reasons, they don't know how to run the colony. They don't have the technical skills. For them, it would be impossible to learn everything here."

"So they won't kill us," replied Amandi. "They'll just dominate us and make us into slaves or second-class citizens. Just like they did to every non-Muslim in areas that they conquered on Earth. That's what they do!"

"This is silly," said Thomas, who was already losing his patience. "Why would Europe continue to supply this place if it turned into a Muslim-run slave colony? The Muslim community here understands that this is not some conquered land. They need us, they need Europe. The Muslims would be signing their own death warrant by attempting an aggressive take-over."

"You are thinking logically and rationally. But you aren't speaking from experience. I am. My parents fled Africa with me on their back because they refused to convert to Islam. They carried me north across the desert, and through Libya, pretending the whole time that we were Muslims. And then my parents spent all of my grandparent's savings to pay smugglers to take us in a boat across the sea. We could never go back. We could never trust them."

"You've just described a plight similar to that of Muslim refugees who fled to Europe, and then later fled from Europe," replied Thomas. "They too suffered like your family has."

"Again you are thinking rationally and logically, but not from experience, not from the reality of how the world works," said a visibly frustrated Amandi. "You are like the people who told the Jews _never again_. And again, it happened to them while people like you watched and did nothing. You remind me of all those people with such good intentions and such sound plans while the invaders arrived in waves. My family could see those people on the streets in Sweden, the ones who cut up our relatives with machetes. Pretending to be refugees. Smiling at us while they collected government benefits. So no, I'm not going to listen to you. And I'm not going to waste any further time on you!"

And with that, Amandi stood up from the table and walked away. A few people sitting at the adjacent table glanced over at the scene with obvious discomfort.

The next day

"Please, take a seat," said Thomas as he looked up from his table at the young woman who had just walked up. "You're Alicja, right? I remember speaking to you before."

"Yes, that's right. But please, call me _Ala_. Pretty much everybody else does."

"We talked before about extending the maximum range for hiking, if I recall correctly," said Thomas.

"Yes, I was one of the people that helped draft the proposal you submitted to the Planning Committee."

"Happy with the results?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, absolutely," said Alicja. "I did a fifteen-kilometer trip recently."

"How did you get that far?"

"I found a route where I could stay at the same elevation. So I didn't lose time and oxygen slowly dragging myself uphill."

"Are you here to try to extend the range even farther?"

"Oh, God no!" said Alicja with a laugh. "Not until we get the next generation of Mars suit. The pack is just too heavy right now, and the suit is too restrictive."

Thomas smiled, and thought about his longest hike: seven kilometers.

"So I did want to come here to thank you," said Alicja. "But I also wanted to talk to you about relations with the Muslim community."

"That's my job. What's on your mind?"

"I'm not spying on you, but our schedules coincide. When I leave the physiotherapy clinic at the end of my shift I often see you here talking to Hestians. So I can't help but notice something."

"Notice what, exactly?" asked Thomas.

"I've seen who comes to talk to you. I just want you to know that they are not a representative sample of Hestia."

"How so?"

"I think the people that I've seen come to talk to you are some of the most unhappy people here. Not everyone feels the way they do about our new neighbors."

"What view do you think is more...representative?"

"Well, I know that I'm probably an exception as I work closely with the Muslims. My specialty is physical therapy and rehabilitation after zero gravity. In my job I see them every day. The women and girls I work with are some of the warmest and friendliest people that I have ever met. And maybe I'm saying this because in Poland it takes a while to get acquainted when you meet someone new. Perhaps we are a little cold, and I've taken to our new Muslim friends so well because I dislike how unfriendly Polish cities can be. But, still, I feel that if all other Hestians could have such close interactions with the Muslim community, then they would not be sulking in the background and making these stupid comments behind the backs of the people who we must now share a home with. I know not everybody can do so in such an intimate way, and I know that most Hestians do not have the luxury like I do of coming from a country that was spared from conflict, but we must try."

Thomas thought about what Alicja told him, and he was certain that he agreed on one thing she had said: that he had been spending his time talking to Hestians whose views were on the fringes of the political spectrum.

One week later

"I hear you are having problems with some of the opinions expressed on the Hestia forums," said Mila.

"Yes. I arranged to have a talk with the one who was most active," replied Thomas. "He was making some posts that were quite unfriendly towards the Muslim community. It didn't go well. He stuck to his views."

"Do you think he is representative of a larger trend?" asked Mila.

"Larger? No. In fact, he has some special circumstances. His family are Christian refugees from Nigeria. His relatives that did not escape were killed in the genocide. So he obviously has some very strong and very personal views about Muslims. But his posts aren't getting much traction."

"OK, then that kid may not be a priority for us."

"A priority for what?" asked Thomas.

"Policing aggressive and provocative online conversations. It's getting worse."

"What that guy wrote were the worst of the forum posts I read. I can't read them all or even half of them, there's just too many. But I think I have decent idea of what happens in the average discussion. He doesn't seem to have anybody agreeing with him, not online anyways."

"Well, there is something you need to see," said Mila. "Look at the document that I just sent you. Go straight to the third section to see the quoted forum posts. Just read out the first few excerpts."

Thomas opened the document and read out the excerpts:

" _Christians disappeared from the Middle East, and the Muslim population of Europe soared. The Christians in the Middle East were indigenous, the Muslims in Europe are aliens_. _Where are the Middle East's Christians? They used to make up twenty percent of the region's population. Now they are almost zero percent. This is what they will do to Hestia_."

" _I believe them. I believe them when they say they will conquer Europe and force convert us all to Islam. I believe that is their goal. They aren't lying about that. But they are lying when they say that is no longer their aim_."

" _We know how they treat religious minorities. What happens to us when they are the majority here? How many of our children have been sold into slavery? Southern Europe and the Mediterranean and the Balkans can't seem to find any girls between the ages of six and twenty-six. Where are they?_ "

" _They get to take pride in their conquests and their empires and their colonialism and we are supposed to be ashamed of ours? We are even supposed to be made ashamed of defending ourselves._ "

" _We signed a peace deal that that did not include the release of slaves. We got prisoners of war back, but only soldiers. The slaves they took were auctioned off like cattle. The men were decapitated, the boys were castrated and the girls were sold at slave auctions. Where are they now? The European government does not care about the little people, and they do not care about us either. And now these people are here smiling at us like jackals and telling us that both sides suffered. But they're the ones taking European territory and European slaves. They are occupiers in Europe, and now they want to be occupiers here._ "

"That's enough," said Mila. "You get the idea."

"I never saw these posts," said a confused Thomas. "Certainly not on the Hestia forums."

"The IT team found them while doing some maintenance. It's a hidden forum, or at least the people who set it up believed it was. The IT guy who brought us the report said that they are not very good at hiding on our network, or they just weren't trying that hard."

"Well," said Thomas, "it's not as bad as a private forum could be. They seem to be venting, not actively plotting violence."

"Yes, I had the same thought," said Mila.

"Do you want me to talk to the people who were members of the forum?"

"The Committee will talk to them. We'll shut down the hidden forum, give them a warning and remind them of the forum rules."

"Clear enough," said Thomas.

"Well, that's good that we have that sorted."

"Just one question..."

"Yes?"

"Was there anything written about me on the hidden forum?" asked Thomas.

"I don't think so. Do you think they may have a strong opinion of you?"

"Well there was an open forum post that had a long tirade by a Hestian about me being some sort of multiculturalism enforcer and apologist."

"Just one?" asked Mila.

"Yes, as far as I know," said Thomas.

"Well, that's better than I would have thought, considering your portfolio."

"Sure, I guess it could be worse."

"And what are the Muslims saying about you?" asked Mila.

"Behind my back? I have no idea. But there was one interesting post about me that got a lot of comments—for and against."

"Do you have a sample?" asked Mila.

Thomas scrolled through his tablet and read the translation of the Arabic forum post:

" _This man Thomas, I see the game he plays. Always playing ignorant, pretending he doesn't know. Asking questions, having people explain things to him. Always listening, observing. He probably secretly speaks Arabic and Turkish. We should see him for what he really is._ "

"The responses to this post are quite interesting," said Thomas. "From best to worst, I am labelled a friend, an ally, an administrator, an informer, an interferer, and finally, a spy."

"Well, that all seems to balance out," said Mila, with her tone clearly showing disinterest.

"Anything else?" asked Thomas as he scanned the bored Committee members.

"Yes, actually," replied Mila. "Please, explain this situation with Hamit. The long-term situation. We are hearing accusations from Hestians that he is some sort of unelected leader who will rule in perpetuity."

"Well, as he explained it to me, he is selected by consensus, which is..."

"Consensus?" exclaimed a very annoyed Mila.

"Yes, it's problematic," said Thomas. "I can explain what Hamit means by consensus if you want."

"Go ahead."

"He says it is the Muslim community's consensus that he is their leader. When I asked him how they gauge this consensus, he said he is selected by a group that is in turn selected by a larger spectrum of the community. I pressed him for details, and it's basically a group of twelve men that answer to him."

"And no women?" asked Mila.

"One, as he claims. But I think that this woman is basically the point-man on women's issues. And how the men in this group are selected is also by some sort of consensus. But there is no actual system of voting, certainly not a system of anonymous voting."

"So we have no idea how these people were selected to lead? They just appeared out of nowhere?" asked Mila.

"Well, I can say that Hamit and the men in his group of twelve are representative of the type of person who is influential and authoritative in their community."

"So, middle aged men?"

"Yes, plus one woman," replied Thomas.

"Do you think we will be dealing with Hamit for the extended future?"

"Yes, unless he loses the consensus of the community."

"Well, that's perfectly non-transparent," said Mila, in visible frustration.

"I'm sorry, I can't get it any more detailed than that. I'm not a spy, I'm just a guy that makes a point to talk to them regularly. There are limits to what I can find out."

"Well, then I think we need to hear directly from Hamit. And we may have some difficult words for him," said Mila.

The Committee members looked towards Thomas.

"The monthly meeting slot with the Committee that he never uses is in two days," said Thomas. "I could ask him to make an appearance."

"Do it," said Mila.

Two days later

"I would like to stand while addressing the Committee, if that is not in violation of protocol, of course," said Hamit.

"Please, Hamit, go ahead," said Mila in response.

Thomas scanned the faces of the Committee members, some of whom had a slight look of worry on their faces. Thomas had no idea what Hamit had to say, and why he had suddenly seemed enthusiastic to address the Planning Committee.

"I have worked very hard here with Thomas' cooperation, and with many people back on Earth in Istanbul and Ankara. I have risked my reputation and standing with my own community in order to reach an accommodation with Hestia on some contentious issues. And I hope the news I bring you today puts the most serious of those issues to rest."

Hamit now had the full attention of the room.

"I have convinced my leadership back on Earth to ensure that at least sixty percent of the next group of Muslim voyagers will be scientists or engineers, selected according to the needs here on Mars. The group two years after that will then half consist of their family members. The selection process will begin as soon as Hestia lists its priority skills and scientific research needs."

Thomas could see the Committee's collective look of relief.

"And the other forty percent in the next group?" asked a Committee member.

"They will be individuals who we sponsor," replied Hamit. "As you know, we have a gender imbalance in our community and there are too many unmarried young men who have become restless. For them to be allowed to sponsor a fiancée and start a family will give them a sense of purpose and keep them occupied."

Thomas sat quietly while the Committee asked Hamit some follow-up questions, all of them gentle. Thomas could see the Committee being charmed by Hamit. He had won them over in less than five minutes.

### Chapter Six

" _He himself had been a convert to the sect, and like most converts, he pushed his enthusiasm into the bigotry of the zealot. He saw no salvation out of the pale into which he entered..."_

\- Lord Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Lucretia, 1846.

"Hamit, I have one final thing to ask about before we wrap up," said Thomas as the weekly meeting came to an end.

"Of course, what is it?" asked Hamit as he gathered the tea cups and plates from his kitchen table.

"The reporter. How's he doing?"

"Graham, or our reporter?"

"Graham."

"Well, it seems in Hestia he is treated like a rabid dog," replied Hamit. "So he has been spending almost all of his time here in our quarter."

"Yeah, I can confirm that he is not welcome in Hestia."

"I'm surprised, as I know there are some people in Hestia who agree with many of the views he expresses."

"That's true," said Thomas. "But those type of people are a tiny minority. And there is a difference between agreeing online and socializing in person with somebody who expresses those views. Plus, Graham is seen as a not particularly intelligent person."

"A Hestian I spoke with used a different term: _low intelligence individual_ ," said Hamit.

"I've heard worse terms used, actually. And it's true. He can't keep up intellectually with the average Hestian. So it's not just that very few people share his ideology, it's that people see Graham as a sort of over-confident village idiot."

"Yes, the stupidest among us are usually the most confident ones with the strongest views," said Hamit in agreement. "But fools have manipulated the masses before, or have at least caused trouble as one of the crowd."

"I thought that your people would be the ones doing the manipulation when it came to Graham," said Thomas.

"Oh, we are. Graham is regularly invited into people's residences here for lunch. We are doing our best to educate him on how, as Muslims, we live our lives. And we have assigned two of our physiotherapists to him to assist in his rehab."

"Is he still having problems?" asked Thomas.

"Yes. I don't know what the exact problem is, but the space journey was not kind to his health. So we are now giving him as much exercise as possible. And the physiotherapists have become his friends."

"Voluntarily?"

"No. I had to convince the two young men who are physiotherapists to socialize with him outside of his rehabilitation sessions," said Hamit.

"Is he making any legitimate friends?" asked Thomas.

"Well, his Arabic tutor seems to be on a mission."

"Is he trying to change Graham's views?"

" _She_. And yes, she is," replied Hamit.

"Uh huh."

"She has got to the point where she won't respond to him unless he speaks in Arabic," said Hamit. "You can often see them at a table in our communal area in the middle of a long conversation."

"Is she pretty?" asked Thomas.

"If we are to manipulate Graham, as you so phrase it, do you think I would assign him an ugly old man as a personal tutor?"

Thomas was starting to think that Hamit's approach to the reporter was far better than anything that he, the Committee or the Hestians could ever manage.

Six months later

Thomas lay in bed and tried to ignore the flashing notification light on his phone, hoping to leave it until morning. But soon his screen was indicating multiple messages with high priority tags, and he could no longer ignore it. He turned on the phone. Six new messages, all with the same video link. Thomas clicked play.

The next morning Thomas sat down in Mila's office, still tired from reading overnight reactions by colonists.

"So, Graham is a Muslim now? Is that what the video showed?" asked Mila.

"Yeah, our idiot reporter recited the _Shahada_ in Arabic, which is a quick testimony to the fact that there is only one god and that Muhammad is his messenger. That's all you need to say to become a Muslim."

"This is insane."

"Well, Graham's not the first person in history with extreme views to flip completely to the other side."

"And does he now hold any extreme views on the Muslim side?" asked Mila.

"I have no idea. The Muslims may have just effectively neutered him, or he may soon start making radical Islamist commentary online. Who knows? Every crazy person like this is unique in their own crazy way."

"And what about his new wife?" asked Mila. "We heard that this conversion was followed quickly by him marrying some Arab girl."

"His Arabic teacher, actually."

"Do you think he converted just so that he could marry her?"

"Maybe. It's a possibility," said Thomas. "She's very pretty. Very far out of his league, actually. And she's in her early twenties, while he's almost twice her age."

"What are her views?"

"Like, how conservative is she?" asked Thomas.

"Yes."

"Well, she wears a hijab...and that's all I know about her. But she might actually be a moderating influence on Graham."

"Marriage converts back in Europe were often extremists though, weren't they?" said Mila.

"Yes, but that was very young and vulnerable European girls being groomed by extremist Muslim men who then took them off to some terrorist camp. European men converting to Islam for marriage were rarely extremists."

"Well, keep an eye on him and give us an update if he starts to become problematic."

"Of course."

"And wait...what about his employer?" asked Mila. "Have they said anything yet?"

"They're still being bombarded back on Earth by angry comments. They fired him sometime overnight."

"So he's lost his media platform, obviously. Do you think anyone else will pick him up? You know, like on the Muslim side?" asked Mila.

"As far as I know, back on Earth the Muslims are very happy with their own reporter. He's got brains, unlike this clown. I'm not sure they really want Graham standing in front of a camera trying to pass himself off as a Muslim."

Two Months Later

"Graham is not somebody that I have been closely monitoring recently," said Hamit. "He was very quiet and not doing anything to attract attention. And before yesterday, the last time I heard anything about him is when the weekly group message to the residents of our quarter mentioned his request for us to call him by his new name, Ghulam."

"Ghulam? I've never heard that name before," said Thomas.

"It's not a name that an Arab or a Turk would choose for their child. Maybe a Pakistani, but not us. He found the name online, and he wanted it."

"So, before today there was no problem with the guy, and now there is?"

"There was a problem before today," said Hamit. "But I was not aware of it."

"What's he done?" asked Thomas.

"Nothing yet. But one of the young men who spends some time in his little circle of friends sent a long message to me. He was too scared to be seen in person coming to my residence, or speaking to me in public. This young man tells me that Graham, who is now Ghulam, had started out claiming to have found peace in accepting Islam. But his views began to change, and starting a few weeks he began to express increasingly extreme views. He has become hateful of non-Muslims."

"This is not good."

"No, it is not," said Hamit. "Some of those around him pushed back on his new enthusiasm for ever-increasing anger, which he is attempting to attach to Islam. Ghulam has suggested that Muslims here are cowards and that they have strayed from the true Islam. Of course, the true Islam to him is some crazy preacher hiding in Yemen whose videos he has seen online."

"I'm surprised nobody on my side has mentioned this."

"As I have been told, he is very good at showing two faces," said Hamit. "He believes he is a person who knows Islam better than us, and he shows us an arrogant face. But to Hestians he is showing a quiet, pious face. This is what his friend has said to me. I think he knows who hands out punishments here on Mars—and it's not us here in the Muslim quarter."

"Well, without the ability to hand out punishments, do you think you can handle this without the involvement of the Planning Committee?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, but perhaps you could inform the Committee that we have only found out today and that we will immediately work to solve this problem."

"I can tell them, yes," said Thomas.

Thomas then paused for thought.

"But first," continued Thomas, "I would like to tell you a story, and it relates to this reporter who has suddenly found God."

"I have nothing but time, I'm listening..." said Hamit.

"The Planning Committee doesn't know my full background, even though the people who recruited me on Earth are aware, and so I'm wondering if your side had perhaps prepared a dossier on me?"

"No," said Hamit. "Before arrival I was given a profile of the Committee members, but not you. Of course, I later searched your name online and read about your work in Hamburg. But there were only a few articles and an interview."

"So you don't know that my family was killed?"

"No...I'm so sorry, Thomas. I did not know that."

"Then I suppose you don't know that my wife was a Muslim."

"No. This is the first time I have even heard that you were married, let alone to a Muslim woman," said Hamit with a stunned expression.

"To begin the story, I'm not from Hamburg. I moved there for work. It's so hard to create a new social circle in Germany, like in most places in Europe. Europeans are polite, but not friendly. You know the story... So most of my friends were a mix of Europeans and Germans who were transplants like me, and immigrants. I ended up with about a third of my friends being Muslims. Some religious, some not. My wife—definitely not."

"Was she born in Germany?" asked Hamit.

"No. Turkey."

"Really?"

"Yes. Her father was Turkish, and her mother was a Tatar—from Russia."

"Was her mother a refugee?" asked Hamit.

"Yes. Multiple generations of being a refugee. The family was from Crimea. After the annexation they..."

"Which one?"

"The original annexation when Russian took Crimea from Ukraine," replied Thomas.

"Uh huh."

"So, her grandparents left Crimea for Ukraine, and then to Russia after getting issued Russian citizenship. They had relatives in Russia and it was easier to find work there. Eventually they returned to Crimea after the Russians quit arresting Tatar men. During the Russian occupation the Turks continued to offer generous scholarships to Tatars, so my wife's mother accepted a university scholarship in Turkey. But later, when Russia and Turkey were at war, any Tatar or Russian Muslim who had gone to work or study in Turkey was considered a traitor to Russia and was stripped of citizenship. So she stayed in Turkey and married a Turkish classmate. My wife was born soon after that."

"And how did they move to Germany?" asked Hamit.

"They didn't. They moved to Crimea when Turkish forces occupied it."

"How did your wife get to Germany from Crimea?"

"She never returned to Crimea, only her parents moved there. Her dad had long ago sent her to be raised by his relatives in Germany. He had sensed rising danger long before."

"He sensed danger, but he sent her to Europe?" asked Hamit.

"He thought the danger was a full Islamist take-over in Turkey. He was very secular. He didn't think it would be a war between Europe and Muslims. For him, Germany was the best option for a stable place to send his daughter."

"I'm sorry to ask such a question, but which side killed your wife and daughter? Terrorists or German fascists?"

"Neither," said Thomas. "It was Russian football hooligans in Munich. A day before a game was to be held, they rioted and randomly attacked anybody they thought was Muslim or Jewish. That day they killed twelve Muslims, including my wife and daughter. The police report said that my wife yelled at them in Russian to stop beating a man on the street. So they killed her. And my daughter."

"So it was fascists."

"They were fascists for money only. How else do the lowest of the low of Russian society get a travel budget to go see football games in Europe? They were state-sponsored provocateurs trying to create conflict in Europe. They all had the same backgrounds: mixed martial arts club members with criminal records, suddenly interested in Russian football matches in Europe. Unluckily for my family there was a match in Munich around the same time my wife's cousin was getting married there. I stayed behind in Hamburg for work, so I wasn't with them."

"Thomas, I'm so sorry you lost your family. I didn't know they were the first victims."

"A year later it would have been German fascists that killed them, two years later it would have been any German mob of average everyday people who just felt like killing foreigners, or an Islamist terrorist bombing that got them."

"Is this why you left Earth?" asked Hamit.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't be here if my family was still alive."

"Of course..."

"Now I'll get to the point where it relates to our newly Muslim reporter," said Thomas. "As soon as I received news that Graham was coming, I searched online and collected his writing and reporting. I watched and read as much as I could tolerate. Do you know what I found?"

"What?"

"He wrote about my wife and my daughter. Not for his current employer who just fired him, but for a previous media outlet. And do you know what he called them in his article?"

Hamit waited for the answer.

"Since the other Muslims killed the same day as my family were all men, he quickly dismissed them as terrorist infiltrators," said Thomas. "But for my wife, he called her an _Islamist terrorist breeder_. And he called my daughter a _future child suicide bomber_."

"And have you informed the Committee of this?" asked Hamit.

"No. If I had known his name before he was in transit I would have told them. But I don't know what they could do about it now. They hated Graham before he arrived, and they still hate him. But now he says he is a Muslim, and that he renounces all his previous evil deeds. He says he is forgiven. He has a new name and a new identity. And he says that he now wants to live out his life on Mars. So, am I to see this man every day for the rest of my life?"

Hamit did not reply right away. He paused for thought.

"It is my duty as a Muslim to forgive Ghulam for those slanders against Islam that he has made in the past," said Hamit slowly. "He has sought forgiveness and expressed remorse. In this, I must be guided by my faith. However, it is not my place to absolve him for what he has done to you, for the vile things that he has said about your family."

Thomas sat silently.

"I could confront him about this, if you want," said Hamit. "His words have hurt so many, and this is something that he must personally seek forgiveness for, and to make amends."

"No. I don't want him to know about his connection to my family. Not yet."

"Could he find out if he starts to do his own research on you?" asked Hamit.

"No. The two newspaper articles and one TV report about me do not mention my wife and daughter. And the reports from when my family was killed do not even name them."

"Then I will remain silent," said Hamit firmly. "This is my promise. But I must confront him about the radical views he is trying to spread here."

"Of course. He's all yours."

One week later

"Sorry, Thomas," said Mila. "It was an issue for the child and youth services people, and then for a private session of the Committee once they referred it to us. But now that it's settled, we want to give you a summary of what happened."

"I understand. In my contract it clearly says that my portfolio covers adults, except when I'm asked to advise on an issue related to someone under the age of sixteen. I heard that she's fourteen and is German, but not much more information than that."

"She just recently turned fifteen," said Mila.

"That's still no good," said Thomas.

"No, it's not. And we knew that there was no outcome that was going to satisfy every party. So here we are."

"And?"

"Well," said Mila, "the fifteen-year-old girl was interviewed separately by two different psychologists. Both of them said she was about average for her age in terms of emotional maturity and the ability to make informed decisions. Neither of them found anything to make them believe that she is a victim of manipulation, grooming or threats of any sort."

"So it's a Romeo and Juliet scenario?" said Thomas.

"Yes. Except that Romeo is a twenty-two-year-old Muslim who convinced Juliet to convert to Islam."

"Yeah, I know," sighed Thomas. "So, what was the final outcome?"

"The girl appeared on her own in front of the Committee and her parents. She stated the reasons for her conversion and—very clearly—her wish to be left alone with her new husband. We've been told that Hamit arranged for a family residence for them."

"When I spoke to Hamit two days ago he just told me that he and his council in the Muslim quarter thoroughly interrogated the guy. He said that as far as they can tell it's just young romance, and that he couldn't persuade them to end the relationship."

"It seems the young man was more persuasive than Hamit," said Mila.

"Yeah, it seems so."

"How do they feel about it, though?" asked Mila.

"The Muslims know how sensitive the issue is, and they are aware of how it may appear to Hestians. But after a long talk with the young man they are convinced of his good intentions."

"And how does it appear to Hestians?"

"You don't know already?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, but as usual we are wondering if you may have heard anything that we haven't."

"There is a lot of grumbling about grooming and brainwashing and manipulation. I heard _pedophile_ more than a few times. There are some unhappy Hestians."

"Then you need to explain to every Hestian that we operate according to rule of law," said Mila. "And in this case, family law and all issues related to sexual consent fall under German law, in which the age of consent is fourteen."

"One of the Hestians already argued against that," said Thomas. "He said that under German law if the older partner is over the age of twenty-one, then the authorities can press charges."

"Only if the authorities find that the girl does not have the mental capacity to give consent, or if there is clear evidence of manipulation," said Mila. "But the psychologists didn't find anything of the sort."

"OK, clear enough," said Thomas. "But I should make a note about one thing."

"Sure, what is it?"

"When I talked to Hamit he said that he and his council are now making it clear that they will prohibit any other Muslim male from attempting a relationship with any non-Muslim Hestian girl under the age of eighteen."

Mila frowned.

"I thought that would be news that would give some reassurance that we won't ever face this sort of problem again, no?" said Thomas.

"Thomas, this is in some ways reassuring, but it also makes it clear that Hamit and his council, who at the beginning said they only existed for low level community issues, are now clearly some sort of law making and enforcement body that is now one step ahead of us in managing part this colony."

Thomas knew that Mila was right.

Two months later

Mila sat behind her desk with a weary look on her face.

"The girl has cut off communication with her parents, her brother and her school friends," she said.

"So it's no longer just a matter of convincing her to return to school?" asked Thomas.

"Far beyond that," replied Mila. "It's not just that she's not answering messages. She's not on any messaging app at all anymore. She deleted them...or her husband did."

"Well, then I'll get straight to the point. What power do you have in this situation?"

"I can have her appear before the Committee," said Mila. "But her parents can only be there with her consent, as she is now considered emancipated. We can ask her if any of this is against her will. But..."

"Her husband might not cooperate?" asked Thomas.

"The Committee is worried that the entire Muslim quarter might not cooperate."

"I see..." said Thomas, fully aware of how bad the situation could get.

"The Committee has deferred the issue to a future date. To be honest, we're hoping the situation fixes itself in the meantime. But the girl's mother is increasingly angry with the Committee and with the Muslims in general. And she seems, to be honest, extremely distressed."

Thomas listened in silence, unable to come up with any alternate plan of action.

"You know Thomas, it's getting worse."

"What is, exactly?"

"The rates of depression, stress and anger in the colony," said Mila.

"Is that your general impression, or...?"

"The Hestian doctors and our two psychologists expressed that as their professional opinion at a recent meeting," said Mila. "They say that Hestia was doing reasonably well, but that difficulties in managing community relations have steadily worsened mental health overall."

"I'm not surprised, that matches my estimation."

"But it's strange, there is a complete divergence across communities."

"What do you mean?" asked Thomas.

"Depression in the colony. It's high for Hestians, but not for the Muslim quarter according to the two Muslim doctors who work there. And the Hestian doctors and psychologists agree, based on their limited work with the Muslim community."

"How is depression being treated on the Hestian side?" asked Thomas. "Are the doctors prescribing medication?"

"Listen, Thomas, we can't just hand out anti-depressants. We brought enough with us for a short-term disaster, yes. But that's only for a worst-case scenario if someone is, for example, suicidal. We can't manufacture these sorts of pharmaceuticals here. And if we ask for huge amounts of pills in every shipment, what will the governments in Europe think about the continued viability of a colony? And if every depressed teenager is medicated, what sort of society will we become?"

Thomas continued to listen without comment.

"As you know," said Mila, "when we screened people back in Europe we were very strict on mental health issues. Only the most resilient people were chosen. The assumption with the people we ended up with was that we would have very limited need for this type of medication. But here we are now, with rising rates of depression and stress."

"What are the non-medication options?" asked Thomas.

"We try to focus instead on lifestyle and counselling. We do our best to keep kids engaged and give them a place here. But I don't know how much our therapists can do if it gets worse. They said clearly that the social environment needs to change if we want people's mental health to improve. But like I said, the need is entirely on the Hestian side, not in the Muslim community."

"How's the rest of the Committee handling this? Did they have any suggestions?" asked Thomas.

"They were not helpful, and some of them pointed out that depression was not a problem before the arrival of the Muslims. And they said they believe, based on what the girl said before the Committee, that the girl was made depressed by the overall stress in the community that was caused by the arrival of the Muslims. And she attempted to escape this depression by converting to Islam."

"That could become a dangerous narrative," said Thomas.

"Yes. The arrival of the Muslims is the cause of the depression, and the cure for depression is to convert to Islam," said Mila. "The mother said that clearly to my face, albeit in different phrasing. And then she asked me what we are doing to stop the Muslims from stealing our children."

"Well, that's phrased in an unfriendly manner, but it's not entirely wrong," said Thomas. "Hestia's treatment strategy for lack of purpose in life and depression now has a competitor that it didn't have before: religion. I've seen this happen plenty of times in Europe. I've read all the academic research. A depressed or aimless European girl converting to Islam to find meaning in life is beyond common, it is a cliché."

"What's the end game here, Thomas?"

"There are many examples of communities overcoming conflict and even trauma while living with or next to people they see as their enemies or oppressors, but not in circumstances like this. We are in entirely new territory. It's like...Hestians spend so much time just replicating experiments that were done already on Earth, just to see if the results are different on Mars. But not social experiments."

Thomas had nothing left to say.

Ten days later

"Hamit, please help me to understand whatever it is our increasingly deranged reporter Graham is ranting about online."

"Ghulam? He has gone mad," said Hamit.

"Seriously?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, he is talking nonsense that nobody here can even begin to understand. We have given up on controlling his outbursts and his writing online," said Hamit.

"Well, let's start with the strangest thing he said about...I don't even know how to begin summarizing what he said. An angel of death? And a king of Mars?"

"Well, he is no longer preaching his radical Salafi views," said Hamit. "In fact, he is now quite enthusiastic for something that Salafis and other purists would abhor."

"Could you explain it in a way that I can make the Committee understand?" asked Thomas.

"I think he must have found some website about Islamic mysticism. It's very obscure, the things he is talking about. One would have to be a scholar or historian to have even heard the names he is using."

"And it's Islamic mysticism related to Mars? That's the sense I got from his ravings."

"Yes," replied Hamit. "He has become obsessed with two mythical figures. The angel Samsama'il who controls the orbit of Mars. And Malik al-Ahmar who is the jinn king of Mars."

"Jinn? Like genie?"

"Yes, but not the American children's cartoon genie. Jinns, like angels, are an accepted part of Islam. But Ghulam's posts online are very, very obscure references."

"I have people in Hestia saying that Graham is using those names and ranting about some lord of war," said Thomas.

"Malik al-Ahmar, yes. The jinn king of Mars and the lord of war."

"Sounds menacing. Don't you think?" said Thomas.

"You know," said Hamit, "Mars, our home, is named for the Roman god of war Mars, who is connected to the Greek god of war Ares. And the Muslims that live in this quarter know as much about the jinns and angels connected to Mars as the average Hestian knows about Roman and Greek mythology."

"So Graham is alone in his views?"

"Very much so. Ghulam had a very small circle who were enthusiastic about his embrace of Salafi ideas, but they are now very angry about the ideas he has started promoting. They condemn him fully."

"But it's still menacing," said Thomas. "I'm thinking in particular about the idea that Samsama'il and Malik al-Ahmar are part of some sort of divine plan for a Muslim conquest of Mars."

Hamit laughed out loud.

"Thomas, this is why we kicked him out of the mosque. It is this nonsense. We treated him the same way you Hestians would if a Muslim who recently converted to Christianity then started to yell at you every day about some biblical demon from the Old Testament."

"So I can tell the Committee that Graham is just..."

"Crazy, but probably harmless," said Hamit. "And not one person here wants anything to do with him."

"Except for his wife, I suppose."

"Oh, no. Her neither. She divorced him."

"Really? When?" asked Thomas.

"Officially, about one week ago. They didn't even last two months. She finally gave up on trying to control him. This is why he has been saying such stupid things online for the last five days. He is angry and lost."

"That's not so easy in Islam, is it? For a woman to seek a divorce?"

"He did not contest it," said Hamit. "And there are no children or assets. So they are no longer husband and wife."

"So al-Mua'qqibat now has its own divorce courts?"

"Yes, among other things," said Hamit. "We are doing arbitration of all sorts—for whatever type of conflict or disagreement that arises."

"At the beginning, the Committee would probably see that as their authority being undermined," said Thomas. "But now I think they are probably just glad that they don't have to deal with stuff like this."

"Yes, as you can see, it is possible for different systems to be better suited for different communities."

Thomas thought to himself, making a note to not mention Hamit's last comment to the Committee.

"Right, OK. I'll summarize that for the Committee: Graham is unstable and ranting about old Arabic mythology, but zero people here want to listen to him. That's OK with you?"

"Yes, that is my opinion," agreed Hamit. "But one more thing before you leave..."

"Yes?"

"If Ghulam was to be removed from our quarter, we would be very relieved," said Hamit.

"Well, I can tell you right now that might be difficult as I doubt any Hestian wants to see him again, especially not in their residential area."

"Well, perhaps a solution will present itself in time."

"Yes, hopefully," said Thomas.

One week later

"So, that's it? All finished?" asked Thomas, hoping the meeting was done.

"Yes, that's it for official business," said Hamit. "But perhaps you have some extra time? I wanted to introduce you to someone."

"Yeah, no problem."

Ten minutes later Hamit was leading Thomas through the residential hallways on the far side of the Muslim quarter—a place Thomas had been only once before when the Muslim residents first moved in. The halls were lined with creeping vines that grew out of their pots and up the walls, winding around the screws that had been inserted to allow the vines to take hold on the sheer surface of the red sulfur concrete walls. Children darted up and down the hallways playing games, with a few of them stopping to stare at Thomas.

They arrived at their destination to find an open door.

"Abdelatif? Are you home?" called out Hamit as he peered into the door of the residence.

A chubby man with a long, thick beard appeared. Thomas recognized him as the Tunisian man that his Hestian acquaintances had decided was the fattest man on Mars.

"Hello! Hello! Please come in! Welcome, Thomas! My name is Abdelatif," said the smiling Tunisian. "Please, sit."

Thomas looked at the space where the table and chairs should be, seeing instead a large square monotone-grey rug, with a well-prepared assortment of dried fruit, nuts and bread rolls on a low table in the middle.

"This rug is...where did you get it?" asked Thomas as he sat down on the thick rug.

"We made it from...flax plant," said Abdelatif. "In English this is...I don't remember."

"It is linen!" called out Abdelatif's wife from the kitchen.

"There's enough flax to do that?" asked Thomas.

"One of my neighbors works in the greenhouse," said Abdelatif. "He says they grow a lot for the flax seeds. It is very nutritious. But it also gives us this plant that we can make into this cloth. So our neighbor has been bringing us flax. My wife turned it into this rug."

"Any plans to become the first rug merchant on Mars?"

"No," said Abdelatif with a laugh. "Money is useless here. And we have everything we need, thanks to God. But my wife is teaching some of the younger students in Hestia to make linen and to weave it. They will make small things first, like pillows."

Abdelatif then handed Thomas a pillow.

"Please, relax," said Abdelatif. "Lean against the wall if that is more comfortable."

Five minutes later, Thomas had already eaten his long bread roll, which was then quickly replaced with another warm bread roll by Abdelatif's smiling and somewhat less chubby wife.

"You like the bread?" asked Abdelatif. "We baked it fresh just now."

"Yes, it's really good. This is Tunisian style?" asked Thomas.

"It is now! We borrowed this style of bread from Europeans and made some small changes. It's called _khobz talian_. We usually put a special type of seeds on this bread, but...no such seeds on Mars."

"Well, it's great," said Thomas. "Much better that the cafeteria I go to. And what is this dip that goes with the bread? Or is it a sauce?"

"It is...," said Abdelatif as he fumbled with the translator app on his phone, "...Tunisian pumpkin dip. Or _ajlouk de potiron_ in French. You like it?"

"Yes, it's amazing," replied Thomas as Abdelatif's wife interjected and spoke hurriedly to her husband.

"My wife says that this dip is not exactly like you would get in Tunisia. There are some ingredients that the greenhouse does not have. So this sauce is missing some of the flavors."

"I can't complain. We're on Mars!" replied Thomas.

"You may recall the request we submitted through you for the many different types of seeds and plants for the greenhouse," said Hamit. "Well, this dipping sauce is the result of the new seeds that the last group brought with them."

"Well, you are definitely bringing better flavors to Mars," said Thomas.

Ten minutes later Thomas decided to try to find out why Hamit wanted him to meet Abdelatif.

"So, were you a restaurateur back in Tunisia?" asked Thomas.

"No, but I was a regular customer as you can see," joked Abdelatif as he patted the side of his belly. "My profession was sports medicine."

"Really? What exactly?"

"Injury rehabilitation. I focused on sports injuries, but my practice took any patient with similar injuries. Sports medicine is a small field in Tunisia."

"Are you working here in the clinic in Hestia?" asked Thomas.

"No, I but I did retrain at the Hestia clinic after I arrived. My practice is here in our quarter. I have a small office. I have become a specialist in rehabilitating people after their long space journey."

"Of course, I suppose that will become a common profession in our space-faring future," said Thomas.

"But you know, Thomas," said Hamit, "Abdelatif's main patient is the European construction worker who became a quadriplegic. Or is he a paraplegic?"

"Fredrik has a C-5 spinal cord injury," said Abdelatif. "He of course cannot use his legs, but he does have some use of his arms and hands. But unfortunately not enough mobility to live by himself here without the sort of expensive electric wheelchair that one could find on Earth. For him, the only good part of being here is the lower gravity."

"So you do rehabilitation sessions with him?" asked Thomas.

"No. He does those at the clinic, where he is right now. They are working on his hand strength and coordination. My job—and my wife's job—is what I'm told is called _primary care giver_. We are his family and we look after him."

"So, what does that involve?" asked Thomas.

"We clean him. We dress him. We feed him. We take him out into the community. We find things to keep him busy. I take him swimming. We play chess. Many things."

"Does Fredrik live at the clinic?"

"No. He lives with us. We were given an extra-large family residence unit. That is his bedroom," said Abdelatif as he gestured at a door across the room.

"Fredrik was living at the clinic while being looked after by many different nurses, rehab workers, care-givers, and volunteers," said Hamit. "Previously there had been a rotation of eight different care givers, most who became frustrated with him on just a four-hour shift twice per week. They resented the time he took away from what they really wanted to do."

"I can imagine," said Thomas.

"So," continued Hamit, "one of the Turkish doctors that arrived with the last group could see that many of the people working with Fredrik had lost their initial enthusiasm. He decided to speak in the mosque and ask for volunteers. And Abdelatif answered."

"You must understand, Thomas," said Abdelatif, "my wife and I do this as our duty before God. We do this as it is what Islam teaches us to do for those in need. But we also understand that there are many such people in Europe that would do for Fredrik what we do—people who are Christians and atheists. But..."

Abdelatif then switched to a mix of Turkish and Arabic as he spoke with Hamit.

"What he wants to say," said Hamit, "is would such a person as himself be selected? Such a person who would dedicate their life to helping Fredrik? Would a person who dedicated their life to something besides becoming a skilled scientist or engineer catch the attention of the selection committee?"

Thomas listened without asking any questions.

"Abdelatif does not really want the attention," continued Hamit, "but I think that the example that he and his wife set should be taken into consideration not just by your own selection committee in Europe, but by the Hestians who live here now. A community needs more than scientists and engineers and technicians. We hope that Hestia comes to understand that we Muslims can provide not just those types of people who have engineering and scientific specialties, but also regular people who have something to offer that cannot be measured by engineering degrees and laboratory experience. If a selection committee was completely rational, then they would send only robots to Mars."

"Yes," said Abdelatif, "we hope that Hestians come to see us as people who can offer something valuable to this colony, even if we are not the top scientists here. I want Hestians to see me not as the big Arab man with the scary beard, but as a friend and neighbor who cares deeply for them. This is my wish."

### Chapter Seven

" _Poor strangers, they have so much to be afraid of."_

\- Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, 1962

" _There are too many of us, he thought. There are billions of us and that's too many. Nobody knows anyone. Strangers come and violate you. Strangers come and cut your heart out. Strangers come and take your blood. Good God, who were those men? I never saw them before in my life!"_

\- Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451, 1953.

"The Planning Committee has given every one of you the afternoon off, which I'm sure you're all OK with," said Thomas to the assembled group of teenagers. "And I know it seems like I've just replaced your classes and training with some boring lecture and a documentary film. But I think you'll find that there are some things you may not know about recent European history, and about how we got into this mess, and who is to blame. We'll have a discussion session afterwards, but for now—just watch."

Thomas started the video and then glanced out at the group, wondering which of them were the three boys that the teachers had determined were the main troublemakers.

The two-hour-long video played as the Hestian students looked on with a focus that surprised Thomas. Interviews, statistics and old archival footage filled the screen. The high production value, bizarre characters and intriguing narrative held the students' attention.

The documentary focused on a broad assortment of pre-war far-right and fascist activists and politicians. The documentary started with these characters on the rise, and then narrated their long decline into disgrace and humiliation. The narrator followed these over-confident men as they swore to destroy Islam in Europe, while their followers instead spent most of their efforts murdering Jews, homosexuals and Gypsies who were unfortunate enough to find themselves alone or in small numbers on the streets. As the power of the far-right surged, the documentary showed how the police and the fascists operated as a single unit behind the scenes in many countries. But when the Turkish and Arab armies invaded Europe, these men were nowhere to be seen, while many police officers stayed on the job and took their salaries from the occupying armies.

The narrator voiced over wartime and post-war videos of these men, now timid and scared—or enraged—as journalists and left-wing activists with cameras ambushed them and demanded answers: How did you get a medical exemption from military service, despite being seen wrestling in an MMA gym the same week? Why did you send your military-age sons to America when there was a mandatory military draft? Why are you living in Canada under a new identity when Europe is still under attack? Why did you flee your occupied homeland and leave behind your extended family? Why didn't you stay to fight until the end? Why did you refuse to help our refugees who fled the south of Europe?

The statistics on the screen were damning. Leading up to the war, fascists killed more Europeans than did Islamist attacks. And those who served on the frontlines in Europe's militaries were almost never tied to a right-wing movement or fascist party. When the fight came, the fascists fled. A few right-wing militias in central Europe—backed by American and English volunteers—stood their ground, but they were the rare exception. A picture of cowardly murderers who fled in the face of invaders clearly emerged by the end of the documentary.

The second-to-last scene of the documentary showed the French underground resistance conducting a quick street trial of collaborators in the wake of the Arab withdrawal. A French commander executed five men kneeling in a public square with a single shot each to the back of the head. He then turned to the camera and said, "Three of these men were members of the fascist party, but when the Arabs came they did not fight. Instead, the offered their services to the invaders, saying that they were the ones who knew best how to help administer the city." The officer then looked over at the cheering crowd and said "This is my neighborhood. I know many of these people. Some of those in the crowd who cheered when I shot these men were also collaborators. And before the war they voted for the fascists in every election. But they didn't fight the Arabs. And they refused to give us any other kind of support, saying that it was too dangerous. And you see them now, how brave they are!"

The documentary ended with public admissions of guilt by European collaborators in front of local reconciliation commissions. Sad man after sad man listed their acts and asked for forgiveness, most looking down at the ground as they did so. For each man featured, the documentary edited together a montage of the same man participating in far-right rallies before the war, chanting enthusiastically against Muslims, followed then by their admissions of how they assisted the occupying Arab armies.

Thomas turned off the screen and switched the lights on. The room was still paying full attention.

"You may each take something different from this documentary. But for my generation, this is not some one-sided propaganda video. It was our lives. We saw this in the lead-up to the war. All the people who screamed for war and blood were nowhere to be seen when the fighting started. The extremists were cowards, and they killed more of their own people that they did invading soldiers. Your most macho and angry classmate? He ran away once he realized that eighteen-year-olds were getting drafted and sent to the front lines in the Balkans. Your neighborhood fascist who always put up an election poster for whatever party was the most extreme? He was good at attacking Jewish grandmothers and Muslim children, but the Turkish infantry forces in Austria? He didn't want to go anywhere near those guys. Those guys fight back."

The class was still listening.

"What did I and many people your parents' age come away with from watching how this war started? Don't trust the people most enthusiastic for conflict. They will sooner kill you for disagreeing with them than actually fight an enemy on the battlefield."

Thomas then opened up the room for a discussion, and it went the way Thomas knew it would. He had shown an earlier version of this same documentary to students at countless schools in Germany. The students in those schools had overwhelmingly agreed with the version put forward by the documentary. But he also knew from experience that the three boys in the room who were the ones causing problems on the forums may never be swayed in their online opinions, but that was not the point. Thomas was going after the undecided students, and he was pretty sure that he now had them.

The few Muslims students who had taken the optional—for them, but not for the Hestians—offer of attendance sat silently, doing their best to not get involved in the discussion.

Planning Committee room, the next day

"How did it go with the kids yesterday?" asked a Committee member as the rest of the members slowly made their way into the room.

"Pretty good," said Thomas. "Our three troublemakers had the wind taken out of their sails. They must know that they don't have any sort of receptive audience amongst their classmates anymore. But, of course, they can still go online and find a more supportive crowd on some Earth-based forum."

"Looking forward to meeting the adult troublemakers today?" asked the Committee member.

"I'm already familiar with some of the guys causing problems, but none of them are amongst those sitting outside, so I'm not sure what to expect," replied Thomas. "They may offer something surprising. I really don't know."

"Yes, Mila is worried. That's why she has restricted questioning today to herself. The Committee is just to observe."

"I know the feeling," said Thomas. "Every lab or worksite I visit on Hestia has a scientist or engineer telling me to touch nothing, and to just observe."

"But what we're about to do is not really an exact science though, is it?"

"No. No, it's not," said Thomas.

Mila called the Committee to order and reviewed the ground rules. The first person was called into the room. A skinny man wearing an IT support shirt walked into the room. Thomas had no idea who he was.

"Lukas," said Mila, "we shut down your hidden forum that you created without permission, and we gave you a warning. And you agreed to no longer write such provocative words online any longer."

"I can't recall everything I've written," replied Lukas. "But I don't remember any sort of provocation."

"You wrote on the Hestia community forums that the colony couldn't survive a day without Europeans, but that it could survive without Muslims," said Mila sternly.

"I also said it would _thrive_ without Muslims," said Lukas.

"And how do you think that makes Muslims feel? To read this sort of thing?"

"It's true, so...I don't know. When I hear the truth, I accept it. So should others," replied the young man with a smirk.

"And what else did you write?" asked Mila.

"I don't know, you tell me."

"OK, I'll tell you," said Mila as she looked down at her screen. "You wrote ' _Do you know the fertility rate of Muslims? And for Europeans? We are to get up to fifty percent of them? It won't stop there. Within a couple of generations, we will be a tiny minority. They enslaved us once, and they'll do it again. They are history's worst slavers. We need to stop them from breeding like rats here on Hestia. Any ideas on the best way to do this?_ '"

"Yeah, that sounds accurate," said Lukas, with the same smirk still on his face.

"That's all you have to say?" asked Mila.

"Yeah."

"You agreed to the forum rules and regulations, didn't you? You did that when you first signed on after your arrival five years ago and again this week when we had every single person in Hestia read over the rules once again and agree to the terms of use, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," said Lukas with a disinterested shrug.

"And then, after violating the rules of Hestia, we gave you a warning and you made a promise to no longer engage in such activity," said Mila. "And now we find you blatantly violating the rules again, this time thinking that using fake forum post titles in a sports and fitness forum was good enough to keep your words concealed."

"Seems so."

"OK, Lukas. You are confined to your room for six months," said Mila. "You are banned from posting in the Hestia forums. In fact, you are banned from the internet. You will not be allowed to communicate with anyone, aside from messages to family back on Earth, which must first be screened for content. You may have no visitors that are not approved by us. Meals will be delivered to you. You will have bucket showers in your room, just as the first colonists did. Your phone and tablet will be able to access the library for reading books only. After three months you will appear again before the Committee and we'll see if your attitude has changed. If it does, then we may consider reducing the length of your confinement."

Thomas was just as shocked as Lukas.

"But the rest of the Committee...," said Lukas.

"The Committee took a vote on this already," said Mila.

"There has to be a lawyer assigned remotely from Earth, and a judge in Brussels who will..."

"No," said Mila as she cut off Lukas again. "That process is for felony criminal charges. This is a Hestia disciplinary hearing for a misdemeanor. The Committee is allowed to confine you to your room for up to six months before we need to go through a legal process that would require you to have remote representation in Europe."

"I don't know what some of those words mean," said Lukas as his voice began to shake.

"You'll have plenty of free time after today to read up on European law in English," replied Mila. "Now go sit outside. Someone will be by shortly to escort you back to your residence. They'll do a room inspection, deactivate your communication devices and put a lock on your door."

Lukas began to cry as he left the room.

Mila's next victim walked into the room, glancing quickly at the sobbing Lukas as he made his exit.

"Hello Nico, I know that you know why you're here," said Mila.

"Yes, I do."

"Tell us why."

"I got in an argument with the forum moderator," said Nico.

"Yes, that is one way of putting it," said Mila. "Why did you get into an argument with her?"

"She kept erasing my posts, and then she banned me for a week. Then I started posting from my co-worker's account. But I signed my own name to the posts!"

"My God, Nico! Why are you here?"

Nico took a deep breath. He looked like he had suddenly accepted his fate.

"Because I said that some Muslim men are rapists—which is true—and now everybody is mad at me."

"Nico, you said that _all_ Muslim men are rapists. You said that the Muslim men who live with us are rapists."

"I wasn't really being serious when I posted in the forum," said Nico. "I was just joking. I don't actually think that..."

"OK, that's enough," said Mila. "You were warned over and over again to stop with these sorts of provocations. And you ignored every warning. You are being given the same punishment as Lukas."

"The guy that just left the room?" asked Nico.

"Yes," said Mila.

"What? What's the punishment?"

"Ask Lukas," said Mila. "He's your new roommate for the next six months. He can tell you. Now go sit outside until we send someone to escort you to your dormitory to collect your belongings and your mattress."

Nico walked out of the room in complete disbelief. As the door swung open Thomas could see three more men sitting and talking to Lukas. All of them looked petrified.

Twenty minutes later it was all over. Three men were sentenced to six months confinement, two were sentenced to three months, and the last man was removed from the mining crew as punishment for putting a small stencil of a Nazi SS lightning bolt on a drill.

"So, Thomas, any thoughts?" asked Mila.

"There was a certain Bolshevik secret police efficiency to the whole thing," said Thomas.

Several of the Committee members laughed. Mila smiled in amusement.

"Well, we didn't exactly execute them in the basement, did we?" said Mila.

"No. But the miner looked dead when he walked out of the room. It seemed like he took it the worst, despite him not crying."

"Yes, but if he had put fascist symbols on something at his workplace on Earth, he would have been disqualified from coming to Mars," said Mila. "He's lucky we can't send him back."

"Yeah, it could always be worse."

"So really, Thomas, what do you think?" asked a Committee member.

"If those were the worst online provocateurs, then I think that these punishments will definitely dissuade others. And the miner will definitely be a great example for anyone that wants to put fascist graffiti on anything in Hestia. I'm just curious why I was never asked to talk to them earlier in the process when they first became a problem. Early intervention can really help with these types of guys."

"We didn't know about this until a few days ago when the forum moderators submitted a detailed report," said Mila.

"OK, then I'm not really that surprised."

"No? Why not?" asked Mila.

"I meet everybody here in real life. The internet troublemakers are usually quiet in real life."

"And how about real-life troublemakers? Are there any that require attention?" asked Mila.

"Not this type of attention. Not yet. But some of them are getting close to crossing the line."

"OK, then over the next couple of weeks we would like you to focus on these sorts of people. Try that early intervention thing you just mentioned."

"No problem," said Thomas. "I'll have to be a bit more direct in initiating conversations, but I think that shouldn't be too hard."

As Thomas walked out of the room he looked over at the group of young men. Lukas had quit crying, but the miner had started sobbing in his place. Thomas thought to himself that he couldn't recall seeing anybody at Hestia look as wretched as this group did at that exact moment.

One week later

"You and the Planning Committee are on quite the offensive," said Daniel.

"You think?" said Thomas.

"You scared the teenagers, you handed out severe punishments to some online trolls, and now you are going around interrogating people."

"Interrogating? Is that what people are saying?" asked Thomas.

"Yeah, that's what they're saying. If the intention was to put some fear in their hearts, then you've succeeded."

" _Their_ hearts? Who are we talking about here, exactly?"

"Anybody who has a problem with the Muslims," said Daniel. "And the fear is not so much the room confinement, it's the threat of losing your job and getting reassigned or sent to skills training. Lots of people here love their jobs. Nobody wants to be like that ice miner. He's devastated."

"He's going to be OK," said Thomas. "We're keeping him busy when he's not in skill training. I've got him over in the Muslim quarter doing some community activities."

"As punishment?"

"It's not designed as punishment. His activities are designed for him to get personal one-on-one interactions with the Muslims."

"It didn't really work when he was interacting with the Muslim guys on the ice mining crew," said Daniel.

"Well, we have him in programs where he'll meet all sorts," said Thomas. "And they are much softer than the Muslim guys on the mining crew."

"What's he doing?"

"He's teaching English, and he's taking Turkish lessons."

"Seriously?" laughed Daniel. "Turkish?"

"He was given the choice between Turkish and Arabic. He chose Turkish, and he's now in a beginner-level class with some of the Arab children."

"Yeah, that sounds like punishment," said Daniel. "Or at least it's a form of humiliation."

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do," said Daniel. "It's a small humiliation. But the small humiliations add up, and we get used to them. But soon the bigger humiliations become an unbearable part of our life, and people's tolerance will end."

"What do you mean, exactly?"

"You know, Thomas, we've had this conversation several times, and you've said that other people have had the same conversation with you, but we need to do it again."

"OK, I'm free. Let's hear it," said Thomas.

"This is how it started. When I was a child the Muslim refugees arrived. Soon after the far-right and the fascists started to rise. I know we always had these people in Europe. But they had little chance for real power in the elections, because they were telling lies and fantasies. But when the Muslim refugee arrival turned into a flood, the claims of the far-right were not so removed from reality. And when the refugees refused to leave, the scenarios they put forward almost matched reality. Those endless terrorist plots, the rapes, knife attacks and vehicle massacres. They were the exact scenarios the far-right had warned us about. This gave us fascist street gangs, this gave us the far-right takeover of our police forces, this gave us the election victories of those morons that threw Europe into a disaster. They gave the Turks and Arabs a pretext to invade."

"You're right," said Thomas. "We have had this conversation. So what do you have to say that is new?"

"I'm trying to warn you that the same thing could happen here. I know for a fact that there is only one single person on the Planning Committee who regularly talks about this problem as a serious threat to Hestia. But the Committee's mandate expires in three years. At that point we will have direct elections for half of the Committee seats. At that time we may end up with as many as two spots on the Committee occupied by people far more angry than that one single person. And these people will only make the situation worse, just like they did in Europe. And we can't keep those reckless and angry people from being elected if what they say reflects the reality that Hestians see and the fears that they already have. If we don't do the job now, Hestians may one day hire the fascists to do it for them."

"We're quite far from having any real fascists here though, aren't we?"

"Yes," said Daniel. "But views that brush up against the far right are now increasingly common. They will just adjust their language so as to avoid punishment, or they will speak to people in person, instead of online where they are monitored."

"But wouldn't you say things have improved?" said Thomas. "Especially considering that the next group of Muslims will once again be mostly engineers and scientists? And we have worked through the worst of the problems here on Hestia already."

"Thomas, it just takes one incident. One single horrible crime. And then everything you have worked for is destroyed. All the trust is gone, and hate will fill its place. _One single incident_. A spark. You know? Once the Committee sees this drastic change in the community's views, then they will start to appeal to that. And if they don't, the people who want to take their place on the Committee will do so. You know?"

Thomas knew.

One month later

"Hamit, the Committee will probably appreciate the gesture, but disciplinary actions need to go through them," said Thomas.

"Thomas, after hearing about the very fair punishment the Committee gave to those five Hestian men for their hate speech, I felt the need to reciprocate. And the actions of the young man that we have decided to punish provide a good opportunity for that reciprocation."

"Sure, but don't you see how this undermines the authority of the Committee?" asked Thomas. "If you have a judicial system for al-Mua'qqibat Quarter, that sort of sets you up as more so of a separate government than you already are."

"I disagree. In the special circumstances of this young man's crimes, it needed to be our community taking responsibility for the actions of one of our own. And plus, if it was the Committee punishing this young man, then some here in our quarter may think that the judgement was prejudiced against Muslims."

"Isn't the evidence quite clear to everybody?" said Thomas. "There are messages you have from his account to that Hestian girl's account where he offers to trade...I mean, I can barely say it out loud. It's so ridiculous. He tried to offer one kilogram of dried fruit for a month's worth of sexual services?"

"He is only two generations removed from an Anatolian village, but his family may as well have never left as far as I can tell with their mentality. This informal barter economy we have on Mars would seem quite familiar to him. Nonetheless, he broke the law and he continued to message her after she rejected his offers and asked him to stop. I think one year's imprisonment sends a strong message to my own community, and it is also a powerful gesture to your community."

"You don't think one year is too harsh?" asked Thomas.

"No. I don't. Thomas, you have no idea how much real Muslims are angered by people like this. We, as the large majority of our community, do our best wherever we go in the world to act according to Islam and to the morals we were taught. But then some young pervert from our country is one step ahead of us, harassing the local women like an out of control animal. Their punishment must he harsh enough to scare their friends."

"But the problem here is that the one-year sentence violates Hestian rules," said Thomas. "Anything longer than a six-month confinement must be approved from headquarters in Brussels."

"Thomas, I did seek approval for the one-year confinement—from the civilian command in Ankara and the unified military command in Istanbul."

"OK, but I warn you, if I go back to the Committee with this, they will..." said Thomas before he trailed off, not sure how to phrase it exactly.

"Thomas," continued Hamit as his demeanor changed to a more stern stance, "the Planning Committee needs to realize that we here in this quarter are not like some scared young Hestian who takes their orders. We have made a fair decision that is in the interest of the entire colony. I sought approval for this decision from the place where our authority resides. That's final, I'm sorry."

Thomas decided that he wouldn't make any further progress with the conversation.

"OK, well..." said Thomas as he tried not to sigh out loud.

"Anything else for today?" asked Hamit.

"No, that should be all," said Thomas as he gave up.

Thomas stepped out of Hamit's residence and thought over how he could best explain to the Committee yet even more erosion of their authority in the Muslim sector.

As Thomas turned the first corner he surprised three women standing in their doorways, talking amongst themselves across the hall. All three had their faces fully covered with only a thin open slit to see out of. Flowing black baggy cloth covered the rest of their bodies.

All three women, upon seeing Thomas, immediately retreated back into their own apartments and shut their doors. Thomas tried hard to remember if he had seen any other women in the Muslim sector with their faces fully covered. He could not recall, but he did note to himself that the walk from the entrance of the Muslim Sector to Hamit's apartment was the only part of the quarter that he saw regularly, and that only gave him a view of about five percent of the neighborhood.

Later the same day

"Sunset is in less than two hours, so that means you'll need to take the same route with that other guy and go as a pair," said the safety officer as he handed Thomas his helmet.

Thomas looked over at the other man who was still busy getting into his spacesuit. "What route were you planning on?" asked Thomas.

The man looked up and answered, "The exact route doesn't matter to me, but I'm hoping to make it to one of the viewpoints on the ridge above the colony."

Ten minutes later the two men stepped out of the airlock and onto the Martian surface.

"You're Eren, right?" asked Thomas as they walked past the trailhead and towards the ridge.

"Yes, that's me," replied Eren in German. "Do you have a big file of information on me?"

Thomas laughed at what may or may not have been a joke.

"Well," said Thomas, "when you moved out of al-Mua'qqibat Quarter and into Hestia I asked someone about you and they said they thought you might be a German-Turk, but then another person said you weren't."

"That's a very empty file," said Eren.

"I can only spy on so many people at once," said Thomas, now suddenly aware of how hard it was to convey sarcasm while speaking through a two-way radio and wearing a space suit and a helmet.

"Well, I'm not a German-Turk. Just a regular Turk. But I went to university in Germany and then stayed a bit longer for graduate studies. I left Germany long before the war started."

"And you came with the second group, right?"

"Yes," replied Eren. "The second group of Muslims, of course."

"So, what's your specialty?"

"Fluorine gases."

"What's the application for this in Hestia?" asked Thomas.

"None! It's a future application, hopefully. Fluorine gas is an extremely powerful greenhouse gas. So you see where this is heading..."

"Yeah, now I remember it from the terraforming info I read on my way to Mars. But we need a large industrial operation to do that, right?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, a very large industrial operation. It would take a huge amount of material, energy and people to produce enough gas to start raising the temperature of Mars. So for now we're in the research phase, figuring out how to efficiently extract it from the minerals here."

"And you worked with fluorine gases at a university back on Earth?"

"No. For a business. I did a lot of work in an industrial lab. And I traveled often to mines in China and Central Asia to do quality checks on the fluorite minerals before purchases. But fluorine gases is a dying field on Earth, ever since being phased out as a coolant for environmental reasons. So there were few opportunities in my field outside of some obscure industrial applications."

"So you are now a big terraforming enthusiast?" asked Thomas.

"Like most of the scientists, technicians and engineers here, yes."

"I suppose this specialty of yours really helped with you being selected for the trip to Mars?"

"Yes, definitely," said Eren. "It even helped to cancel out my questionable religious background."

"Questionable?"

"Well, non-existent actually. I'm one of those rare remaining secular Turks."

"How did the selection process go?" asked Thomas. "Was it difficult to get over this hurdle?"

"I was one of very few who managed to overcome this obstacle. That was obvious during the trip here when I was one of only three people in the spaceship who declined invitations to pray."

"Is that why you moved out of al-Mua'qqibat Quarter?"

"Yes, absolutely," replied Eren. "In the Muslim residential area I was what we call in Turkish a _black sheep_."

"We have the same expression in German."

"A black sheep, but also an expert in fluorine gases. So here I am!"

"Do you mind if I ask about the selection process?" asked Thomas. "I actually haven't spoken to anybody about it, aside from the very basic information that the Committee was given. But that was just about the health, education and work experience requirements."

"Well, there was clearly a strong religious requirement that was not advertised, but definitely applied," said Eren.

"How so?"

"They asked us only once about how often we prayed, and about how closely we follow the never-ending rules of Islam. They told everybody that it was not part of their selection assessment, but that it was just merely about trying to keep us informed about how hard it is to be a good Muslim in space."

"You think they used candidates' answers on religion to disqualify people?"

"Definitely," replied Eren. "Most of the secular types were not called back after this phase of the interview process. And then at a later phase they started to spy on us and ask our friends and neighbors about us. Specifically, they asked those people about how closely we practiced Islam and our views on Islam's role in society."

"And so they eliminated the more secular candidates?"

"Almost entirely. As well as the candidates who were too religious. It was clear that they didn't want any militant Salafis to get on that rocket."

"Really?"

"Really. Not too religious, not secular," said Eren. "That seemed to be what they were going for."

"Do you know anything about the first group, specifically about how they were selected?" asked Thomas.

"What do you know?"

"Nothing. Just rumors and conjecture."

"What do you want to know, exactly?" asked Eren.

"Why did the Turks not send scientists and engineers in the first group?"

"I know the answer to that. And the reason why I know will sound very Turkish, but I found out through a guy in my neighborhood back in Turkey."

"They're a good source of information," said Thomas with a laugh.

"For sure. And this guy in particular worked in the government. Nothing special. But one day he had to assist some of the lower-level people from the presidential administration—part of a task force in the president's office. And they said clearly that the selections that Turkey were making needed to be done in a manner which would balance what the Arabs were doing."

"How so? What were the Arabs doing?" asked Thomas.

"The Arabs were, and still are, selecting for loyalty and religiosity, plus leadership qualities for some of the men. The Turkish leadership worried that these Arabs would end up dominating the Turks if the Turks were mostly scientists. So, they responded by selecting similar people."

"That explains a lot," said Thomas.

"But you have to realize how small of an issue this is overall in the political structures. My friend was told that a decision at the top levels was made after some assistant in the presidential administration briefly summarized a ten-page document on the proposed selection process."

"And so now here you are," said Thomas, "living in the original Hestian residential units."

"Yeah, but I could already anticipate that something like this would happen after my first week in transit with the other Turks."

"How is it working out for you in Hestia?" asked Thomas.

"It's OK. People in the hallways have quit asking me if I'm lost."

"Could be worse," said Thomas.

"Well, I did hear that somebody was spreading a rumor that I was a spy for the Muslims, and that I'm secretly quite religious. Then I heard another rumor that I'm only in Hestia to get women. Of course, that part is true. I won't lie and say I'm not here to get women."

Thomas laughed, and then decided to not address the first part of what Eren said.

The two men stopped for a break, sitting on a low rock ledge. The only part of the colony still visible was a small section of the greenhouse complex that extended above ground in order to test the effects of surface radiation on the plants. Beyond the boundary of the colony was the beginning of the massive solar farm array, its black panels facing the sun that was getting lower and lower in the sky.

"How have the people in al-Mua'qqibat Quarter treated you since you left?" asked Thomas.

"The Muslims who are scientists have said nothing, at least not to my face at work. Some of the older, more traditional types expressed some disappointment with me. They think I'm like one of those young Turkish guys who wants to go party with Europeans."

"Did you talk with Hamit at all?"

"No. Not a word," said Eren. "At least not on my way out. I've had some interactions with him before, of course, but..."

"But?"

"Listen, Hamit acts like he is a leader, but with the arrival of the second group it's clear that he could no longer survive an election—if we had one—and neither would most of those men on his council."

"Who would take Hamit's place if there was to be an election?" asked Thomas.

"Someone younger, and less stubborn. Someone with realistic expectations for life here. Someone who wants us to quietly fit in, not someone who wants to win a new concession every week like it's some sort of political trophy."

"And if Hamit and his council continue in their positions?"

"Then it will be just like home where some loyalist gets a leadership position and stays there for decades until he's too old to get out of bed in the morning," replied Eren.

"Do you think the average person in the Muslim sector would prefer to have a couple of seats on the Planning Committee instead of a separate council?"

"Both, probably," replied Eren. "The people would like both their own council, plus representatives on the Planning Committee. But not Hamit and his little group."

"Why not?" asked Thomas.

"I know you Europeans are sensitive to the fact that there are no Muslims on the Planning Committee. But Hamit likes it that way for now. He has been actively working to stall Mila's proposal to have the Muslim community elect two members to the Committee."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I think you already have an idea," said Eren. "He probably sees those two Committee spots as potentially replacing him and undermining his authority. Hamit keeps saying that he wants to let the Committee run out their originally scheduled mandate, then the Muslims will participate. But he'll still want to maintain his own autonomy when that time comes. And take my word for it, when that time comes he will try to get his own people elected to those two Committee seats."

"You're not really a fan of Hamit, are you?"

"Not really, no. He does stuff that gives me doubt about his true character. Hamit speaks in a very different language when talking in Turkish. And then when he suddenly notices someone like me—a liberal Turk—he switches back to the way he speaks in English...in a conciliatory way. I think he's just telling you and the rest of the Hestians what he thinks you want to hear."

"Well, you're hardly the first progressive young Turk to dislike the older generation in power," said Thomas.

"Listen, I don't care for Hamit and his council. But they are not the worst in the Muslim sector."

"Who is?"

"This group of young men. I think you know who I'm talking about," said Eren.

"Yes, the Committee has been asking about some little group who've been expressing views that are problematic. Is it those guys who dress like Salafis?"

"Nah. Those guys are mostly harmless...for now. They just spend too much time meeting and praying and studying. The guys you need to worry about aren't dressed up in a way that scares the Hestians, although a few of them do have a beard of a certain length."

"The guys we should worry about, do they have much support?" asked Thomas.

"No. At the moment nobody supports them. But they do tolerate them."

"Hmm."

"We saw this before back in Germany, didn't we?" said Eren. "Small, isolated groups of extremists on my side, and on yours. At first we laughed at them. But then within a single year their ranks were swollen with new members. And then one day it seemed like the majority of the neighborhood was either supporting them or was too afraid to stand up to them. So what I'm saying is don't think that these guys are something to not worry about."

Thomas thought silently.

"And you know," continued Eren, "I'm quite sure you have a few Hestians that are a problem."

"Yes, I've talk to a few..."

Thomas and Eren reached the viewpoint on top of the ridge. The colony was now entirely out of sight. Mars stretched out endlessly in the distance with no sign of human life.

### Chapter Eight

" _There is no sure foundation set on blood, _

No certain life achieved by others' death."

\- Shakespeare, The Life and Death of King John, Act IV, Scene II.

" _Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented,_

Would run to these and these extremities.

And therefore think him as a serpent's egg—

Which, hatched, would as his kind grow mischievous—

And kill him in the shell."

\- Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene I.

Hamit sat at his table in disbelief as Thomas told him the news.

"When I heard this earlier today," said Hamit, "I thought that it must have been an accident, or a suicide! Ghulam was a disturbed person. Everybody knows this. Surely, couldn't it be a suicide? He could have removed his helmet while outside, just like that young girl who took her own life the year before we arrived."

"That's what I thought," said Thomas. "But the Committee tells me that while Graham did die from exposure to the atmosphere, the doctor noted that he was struck in the face several times with a blunt object. So somebody forcibly removed his helmet and then beat him for good measure."

"You are sure?" asked Hamit.

"Me? I'm not sure of anything. I'm just telling you what the Committee told me."

"And what of all of these surveillance cameras?"

"Well, there aren't actually that many. And it seems they were turned off."

"Turned off? By whom?" asked Hamit.

"The Committee is not sure. The video camera system might have turned itself off. It crashed. The guys in the command center said that the cameras went down due to some programming error or something like that. They told the Committee that they couldn't get the video feeds back online, so they called one of the tech support guys to come and check out the problem. He rebooted it and they went about their business. And then a few hours later one of the biologists found the body in the lava tube when he went to check on one of their Mars atmosphere soil experiments. That's all I know for now."

Hamit nodded in acknowledgment. Thomas had no idea what he was thinking.

"Do you have anything that you want me to say to the Committee?" asked Thomas. "Like, any sort of information that you think might be useful? Some people will be coming around to talk to everybody to ask if anybody saw or heard anything. But is there anything that you want me to relay in a more private manner?"

"I want you and the Committee to know that nobody in the Muslim sector had anything to do with this murder. The areas near the external airlock in our sector were closed for maintenance, as they have been for weeks now. We cannot access them. But what I am about to say is not for the Committee, but for you, Thomas. I have told nobody about the reporter writing such terrible things about your family. And also, if this was your doing, it is not any of my business."

"I don't even know how to open exit doors," said Thomas. "I wouldn't know how to get the reporter issued a space suit when I don't have a two-person surface walk scheduled. And I certainly wouldn't know how to shut down Hestia's entire video surveillance system for hours at a time."

"And neither would anyone in my community. Well, perhaps the ice miners from this quarter know how to open doors and get space suits, but they most definitely cannot turn cameras on and off for the entire colony."

"Don't worry," said Thomas. "Your mining crew has already been cleared. They were seen in the communal dining area for the entire time the cameras were shut off. Video before and after that shows them returning from work and then going home to the gym or to the showers."

"And the Hestian mining crew?"

"Same thing. They were in the dining area also, and a couple of them were at the swimming pool. The Committee has found plenty of witnesses for their alibi."

"So, who then?" asked Hamit.

"The Committee says that the list of people who were trained and certified to operate external airlocks is over 200 people, including about thirty people on your side. And there are many people who are in a position to take a space suit without permission. They are not under lock and key."

"This is a long list of suspects," said Hamit.

"Well, to be honest, I have the feeling that the Committee won't be putting too much effort into investigating Graham's death."

"Let us hope this passes quietly," said Hamit. "And you have my word, I swear I won't mention anything about the reporter's horrible slander on your family, may they rest in peace. This would, in their eyes, give you a motive and make you a suspect."

Thomas felt one thing and one thing only: he deeply regretted having told Hamit about his family's murder, and about Graham's reporting on the incident.

"Is there anything else we need to discuss?" asked Hamit.

"No, we can end here. That gives me time before sunset to do a short hike. My reserved time slot starts in twenty minutes."

"Do you have an extra companion spot?"

"Yes."

"Is anybody going with you already?" asked Hamit.

"No. Not many people want to be seen with me these days."

"Then could you take my older son with you?" asked Hamit. "He missed his time slot last week because I needed to attend a circumcision ceremony for another boy here. I wasn't able to take him. I think he is still a little angry with me."

"No problem, call him home and I can go together with him to grab the space suits."

"Thank you, Thomas. I appreciate it," said Hamit with a warm smile.

One week later

"Why do the Muslims seem to not care about Graham's death?" asked Mila.

"He started to lecture them and criticize how they practiced Islam," replied Thomas.

"And this is why they didn't bury his body in the area we assigned to them for a graveyard? And why they didn't want to give him a Muslim funeral?"

"They did, actually," said Thomas. "They asked that he be buried with Muslim rites outside on the surface, but not anywhere near the grave of the Saudi woman who passed away from heart failure last year. She's buried in the area that the Committee put aside as a Muslim graveyard."

"Why didn't they want Graham in their graveyard?"

"It wasn't just him lecturing the Muslims, he had also been sharing some bizarrely unorthodox views on Islam lately."

"So they have sectarian graveyards already?" asked Mila.

"I'm not sure how to describe this arrangement. Graham was buried in an alternate area that was suggested to them. But I don't imagine anybody in the future will want to be buried nearby."

"You think that Graham's views had something to do with the killing? Maybe he said something that the Muslims found blasphemous?"

"I really have no idea," said Thomas. "But that's a possibility."

"Well, don't worry. We can't really progress on this case unless someone comes forward with new information. Or if someone decides to confess."

"So you want me to quit asking around the Muslim quarter about Graham?"

"Yes, you can drop the subject," said Mila. "But report to me if anybody offers some unsolicited information."

"Is this killing basically a non-issue?" asked Thomas.

"Graham was as close to a nobody as you could possibly get here on Mars. Nobody was more disliked, and nobody had less friends or family. That sounds brutal, but it's true. Despite that, this killing leads to a problem for Hestia."

"How so?" asked Thomas.

"Well, for example," said Mila, "I was given a summary of what is being discussed on the Hestia forums. Nobody writing online from either Hestia or the Muslim quarter seems to care very much about Graham's death, but one person did say something disconcerting. They asked if killing is now to be a regular tool for solving problems here on Mars. This person suggested that perhaps people might now believe that murder is no long some unimaginable Earth horror."

"OK, I can see how that's a problem if this sort of view becomes widespread," said Thomas.

"Yes. And I'm sure you—just as I do—remember the time when suddenly killing seemed like a regular feature of European politics, as if murder had never left us."

Thomas knew she was right.

Two weeks later

Thomas sat down in the chair next to Eren's hospital bed.

"So, what are the doctors telling you?" asked Thomas.

"They said that my jaw isn't broken, but they're making me stay here for observation overnight. They say I have a concussion. So I guess I'm just supposed to lie here in bed and relax."

"Well, sorry that I'm here to stress you out."

"You're fine," said Eren "Nobody is stressing me out."

"Well, I haven't told you why I'm here yet. The Committee had me go talk to Hamit, and, uh...Hamit is adamant that you weren't attacked by those guys. He claims, and I'm using his words, that it was just a fight between _two macho young men_ , and not a planned attack. He says that it was just two Turks disagreeing."

"Hamit, aside from not being a witness, is completely wrong. Three of them walked right up to me and attacked me. They punched me and I fell down, and then they kicked me. They were obviously waiting for me to leave the gym area where there is a camera and other people."

"That's the Committee's conundrum," said Thomas. "They have your version, and they have the version of the three Turkish guys who say that you started a fight with one of them. So, from their perspective they have two stories, neither of which can be verified."

"Hamit knows who those guys are, and what they're like. He's knows what they did."

"Who are they, exactly?" asked Thomas.

"They hang out in that small group of men I warned you about when we went hiking. Not the Salafis, but the ones that I said were actually the dangerous ones."

"Yes, I remember."

"They are showing you Hestians a different face than the one they show in the Muslim quarter," said Eren. "When they speak amongst themselves in Turkish they are calling everybody in Hestia _infidels_ and saying that Hestian women are sluts and that Islam is the future of Mars. Dumb things like that. They are mixing up all sorts of stupidity, no matter how small or how big. They interpret every problem through the lens of how it can be fixed by Islam. And they don't have any sort of plans like our resident Salafis do."

"Which is?" asked Thomas.

"The Salafi guys want to convert everybody. But they want to persuade Hestians to convert voluntarily. These idiots, on the other hand, they just have some violent fantasy of dominating Hestia."

"How many would you say there are?"

"I've never seen more than seven of them hanging out together," said Eren.

"And why did they attack you? Is it because you left the Muslim quarter?"

"No. In fact, I think they were quite glad to see me go. I got into an argument with a few of them. And more than once..."

"What were the arguments about?" asked Thomas.

"I saw them talking to the younger kids. They were doing their best to initiate the brainwashing. So twice I interrupted their chats in public to tell them to quit saying stupid stuff to teenagers and little kids. And then I told Hamit he was an idiot for not disciplining them."

"You called him an idiot to his face?"

"Well, the word in Turkish might be closer to meaning _fool_ , but the insult is not any less. And the challenge to Hamit's authority was quite unwelcome."

"This is before you left the Muslim quarter?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, now you can see why I needed to get out of there."

"What was Hamit's response when you said that these guys were dangerous and needed to be disciplined?"

"Hamit tried his wise grandfather act and said to not worry about it and that he would take care of it, but these guys have been causing problems for at least a full year and Hamit has done nothing."

"Why do you think that is?" asked Thomas.

"It's not because he's scared of seven guys. I think it probably has something to do with the fact that Hamit thinks that if he punishes these guys it will seem like he is doing the bidding of the non-Muslims. He's so paranoid of anybody in his community viewing him as a sell-out."

Thomas sat back in his chair with a tired and dejected expression.

One month later

"You're certain that Abdelatif's wife will not allow an autopsy?" asked Thomas.

"I am," said Hamit. "We will bury Abdelatif after the funeral prayers at the mosque."

"OK."

"Did the Committee give you any problems?" asked Hamit.

"A little. They'll accept the attending doctor's initial diagnosis of a brain aneurysm, but they said that they will be making some demands for autopsies on any future deaths where the cause is not clear."

"I see. We can discuss this later."

"At what time will you all be wanting to go out the airlock?"

"Three hours. Maybe sooner," replied Hamit. "How many space suits were you able to reserve?"

"Sixty-two. The miners have ended their shift early today so that there would be more available for the funeral party."

"Thank you, this should be enough," said Hamit. "We will play a video stream in the mosque and online for those who cannot accompany us outside."

"I talked to the safety coordinators who manage trips out onto the surface. One of them plus a trainee will need to accompany the group."

"Will you also come?"

"Of course," said Thomas.

Four hours later

Thomas and the safety coordinator stood at the back of the funeral party as the light from the Martian sunset began to fade. Thomas had never seen so many people outside on the surface at the same time. He then turned and looked back towards the colony and had the same thought that he had every time he saw the colony from a distance: how could thousands of people be confined to that one small spot on the map of Mars? With ninety percent of the colony underground, there was not much to give the impression of a sizeable settlement.

The safety coordinator opened a private two-way channel with Thomas and asked, "How much longer do you think this will take?"

"I have no idea. This is actually my first Muslim funeral."

"I thought you were sort of an expert on Muslims," said the coordinator.

"I've worked with Muslims for well over a decade, but this is the first time I've been invited to the actual burial. Usually I've just gone to a house to pay respects to the family and have a meal."

"Uh huh..." said the coordinator with some disinterest. "And what about the quadriplegic Hestian that this guy was looking after?"

"Abdelatif's wife will continue to look after him as much as she can. And a couple of the Muslim men have already volunteered to take over the work that his wife can't, like the cleaning and exercising and entertainment."

Thomas and the coordinator looked back towards the burial as Abdelatif's concrete coffin was lowered into the ground.

The prayers continued, but Thomas, still on the two-way channel with the coordinator, could not hear them.

Mars was getting dark.

### Chapter Nine

" _You cannot simultaneously prevent and prepare for war."_

\- Alberta Einstein, 1960

" _Only the dead have seen the end of war."_

\- George Santayana, Soliloquies in England, 1922

Thomas did not hear the ground transporter on the road behind him until the proximity warning inside his helmet sounded. He stepped to the side and looked back as he heard an offer on the open channel: "You need a ride back to the colony?"

"Yes, if you have a free spot," replied Thomas.

"We always do. Get in."

As Thomas opened the passenger side door he recognized the driver.

"Erik! Long time no see. How are you?"

"Good, good. And you?"

"Exhausted. I walked out on the dunes and then I just couldn't imagine going back the same way in that sand. It just takes the energy right out of you."

Thomas exchanged pleasantries with the other two Hestian passengers sitting behind him before saying to Erik, "You know, I really don't think that I've seen you since you picked me up at the landing area my first day on Mars."

"Well, I'm either working a night shift at my new job staring at equipment that will never malfunction, or if it's a daytime assignment then I'm driving. So I guess that doesn't leave us many opportunities for our paths to cross. But it's lucky we found you. We need a German!"

"I hope you all aren't having a debate about German politics?"

"No, history actually," said Erik.

"We Germans love talking about our history," said Thomas with a smirk. "What debate do your need me to weigh in on?"

"Thomas, how good is your knowledge of military history? Specifically, World War Two?"

"As I recall from school, we lost. And we were the bad guys."

"Yeah, those are the basics," laughed Erik. "But how about the specifics, do you know about the British policy of appeasement?"

"Sure. The British Prime Minister did nothing when Germany started to take pieces of Czechoslovakia's territory. The British got angry, but then they made some sort of agreement with Hitler that was later violated when Germany took the rest of Czechoslovakia. Or something along those lines, if I remember correctly. And now that Prime Minister is remembered for being a coward or for being too soft. I'm not sure exactly, you'll have to ask the British."

"Yes, Prime Minister Chamberlain," said Erik. "Many people said that if he had stood up to Hitler, then Germany never would have started with its territorial expansion, and we could have avoided the war. But that's not true."

"Oh?"

"Chamberlain knew that Germany was too strong," said Erik. "If the British had stood up to Hitler and gone to war then, instead of two years later, they would have lost immediately. Their Navy and Airforce were not ready, and neither were their air defenses. Chamberlain was giving his military time to rearm. They were busy building planes and ships and their new anti-aircraft systems. Does this sound familiar?"

"So, you think Europe is rearming right now?" asked Thomas.

"I know it. It's not a secret that we are strengthening our military and investing in new weapons systems."

"Yes, but so are the Turks and the Arabs," said Thomas. "And they have been sitting at peace just like us. So shouldn't our gains be cancelled out by theirs?"

"They have been in a decades-long period of militarization. They have put in everything to their military for at least the last twenty years. They have maxed out. Their industries and their population are not able to do any more than they are. But we started with an anemic military that was still accustomed to hiding under America's skirt, which was fine when we still had a mutual defense treaty with the Americans. But we were caught by surprise, and then we threw in everything we had just to survive. Now, however, we have breathing space and time to bulk up our military. The Muslims can't match our gains, and with the American, Russian and Chinese arms embargo on them, they can't rebuild their navy or their air force. They have a good field army, that's it. If we go all-out with rearming, we can have all three."

"Do you think the Turks and Arabs know this?" asked Thomas.

"Yes," replied Erik. "So they will either attack us before we get too strong, or they will be praying that we are content to let them permanently occupy southern Europe."

"And what do you think that means for us?"

"Not that Mars is part of their overall calculation, but I think the war will start way before we get up to fifty percent Muslim here," said Erik.

Thomas thought to himself, wondering if this was the typical sort of conversation happening among Hestian men when he wasn't around.

Two days later

Thomas sat up in his bed and opened his phone, turning off the high priority notification tone. He dreaded the news, feeling that Hestia couldn't possibly deal with yet another crisis. The notification was a forwarded message from Mila.

Thomas stared in disbelief at the news from Earth: a massive American military operation in the Mediterranean, the US Space Force descending on Libya, American Marines pouring out of landing craft, Airborne soldiers parachuting into airports, Libyan ships burning, buildings collapsing, the mangled wrecks of armored vehicles being pushed off the road, dead Arab soldiers scattered on the ground.

Thomas then played a video clip of the US President announcing that twenty-seven American slaves had been rescued, while twelve Americans had been executed by slavers, and that US forces would continue to search for the hundreds of American citizens held captive. The president ended his short address by warning that if any more captives with American citizenship were taken from southern Europe, from hijacked airplanes or from ships in international waters, then the next response would be much harsher, and that the region's vital infrastructure would be targeted.

Images from elsewhere in North Africa flickered across the screen. The Arab air forces burned on their runways while Arab sailors abandoned their sinking ships. Freed American and European slaves boarded a motley assortment of civilian and military aircraft at the Tripoli airport, while US Army Rangers pushed back the black African slaves begging to be taken as well. A spokesman for the Muslim expeditionary armies' military command in Istanbul screamed in rage at the camera.

A new notification popped up: full Committee emergency meeting at 6:00am. Thomas thought of coffee for a brief moment until he remembered that he was on Mars.

Two weeks later

"Yeah, I did for a brief moment think that America was declaring a full-on war, and that soon we would see the Muslim armies flee Europe," said Daniel. "But then I remembered how selfish America is. They wanted to rescue their own citizens from slavery and to give the Arabs a very mild punishment before running back to America. So no, I was not surprised when they announced that this was a one-time military operation and that they wouldn't do it again as long as their own citizens are not taken as slaves. But as for those hundreds of thousands of European slaves in North Africa who were not lucky enough to be standing next to the American slaves on the day of the raid, well, they can remain as slaves and America doesn't care."

"You know," said Thomas, "the Muslims here said they are against slavery, Hamit made that very clear."

"And yet many of them come from states where slavery of non-Muslims is widely practiced," said Daniel. "Did they fight against slavery at home? No, they didn't. And, most notably, they don't seem happy about this little rescue operation. Odd, isn't it?"

"At this point I'm counting the lack of a total breakdown in relations here on Mars as a victory," replied Thomas. "And if America had jumped in and joined Europe in a united front and the war started up again, then we would see a true disaster here."

"Thomas, you have no idea how many people here would welcome that disaster."

Thomas decided to not reply.

"Anyways, I didn't invite you to my residence just for you to steal all my wine," said Daniel as he poured another small portion of berry juice and potato vodka into Thomas' cup. "I invited you here because I think you may not be getting all the facts on everything that's happening here. There're probably some things that you need to know."

"I can't possibly know everything," said Thomas. "I know what I see in person, and then what people choose to tell me. So, go ahead..."

"My neighbor works on the underground glacier as a water tech. Anyways, a separate Muslim crew comes up to their worksite four days per week for hauling ice to be used as their water. So, my neighbor tells me a story. Stop me if you've heard it already."

"I've heard nothing from that worksite," said Thomas.

"Well, the Muslim crew comes up for their full day of digging for ice," said Daniel. "And it's the first work day since the American raid in Libya. By this time, it's clear that the Americans were just going in and out, and not starting a full-on war. And it's obvious from the American and European slaves who spoke on the news that it was an anti-slavery raid and rescue. Some of the American women spoke about how they had been forced to work as sex slaves in an Arab military brothel. They said there were European girls and boys as young as ten in there. That's messed up, right?"

"Yeah, slavery is evil," said Thomas. "Hamit said so in his recorded comments that were sent to everybody on Hestia."

"He said so, but in English. And he's the only Muslim that spoke."

"So, what happened at the glacier?" asked Thomas.

"Well, a Dutch guy on the mining crew was curious about the Muslims' opinion of the anti-slavery raid. He asked the full Muslim crew during the lunch break what they thought about slavery. The crew leader, this Turkish guy who speaks English really well, he immediately repeats Hamit's words. But the Dutch guy starts to ask the other Muslims in the crew and says he wants to hear them say it as well. And do you know what they said?"

Thomas had a sudden sinking feeling.

"Some Muslim guy jumps up and says the usual lies," said Daniel. "He says 'You Europeans did worse things to Muslims in Europe,' that sort of thing. He says that Europeans committed genocide against Muslims and that Europe was ethnically cleansed. He said Muslim countries had to send their armies to Europe to save Muslims. But the Dutch guy pressed him again, and tells him to say that slavery and rape of little European children by Muslims is evil. The Muslim guy refuses. The Dutch guy then says something about the Prophet Muhammad being a pedophile. Some of the Muslim guys then immediately jumped the Dutch guy and there was a fight with a few guys on each side. It lasted less than a minute before the two crew chiefs broke it up."

"Was anybody hurt?" asked Thomas.

"One of the Muslim guys was bleeding from the nose. And the Dutch guy has a sore jaw. Nothing too bad."

"This was last week?"

"Yeah."

"Since then I've met twice with the Committee and once with Hamit," said Thomas. "They never mentioned it. And they would absolutely bring it up if they knew about it."

"The Committee has a lot on its mind," said Daniel, "and lots of people here consider them just glorified administrators, and not leaders to be confided in, so no surprise there. But your friend Hamit, it seems that he may be out of touch with his little community. He should know about things like this. So, what I'm saying is that Mila, the full Committee _and_ Hamit are increasingly clueless as to what is happening in this colony on a daily basis. Things are tense, and people are getting more and more aggressive every day."

Thomas finished his drink.

"You want another?" asked Daniel as he refilled Thomas' cup.

### Chapter Ten

" _She found Helen in her room, weaving a large cloth, a double purple cloak, creating pictures of the many battle scenes between horse-taming Trojans and bronze-clad Achaeans, wars they suffered for her sake..."_

\- Homer, The Iliad, 8th Century BC

" _After so many years even the fire of passion dies, and with it what was believed the light of the truth. Who of us is able to say now whether Hector or Achilles was right, Agamemnon or Priam, when they fought over the beauty of a woman who is now dust and ashes?"_

\- Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose, 1980

Thomas' heart was pounding as he approached the colony. He had gone as fast as he could in the bulky and restrictive spacesuit. Ninety minutes of fast walking had left him breathless and desperate for water. All he could think about was the automated message ' _Emergency:_ _Return to your residence and shelter in place_ ,' and the radio silence that followed.

As Thomas reached the airlock he hit the red emergency button next to the door. And then he waited.

Five minutes later the outer door opened and Thomas hurried inside, manually closing the door and locking the seal without waiting for the automatic system. A voice in his earpiece immediately started providing instructions.

"I know what to do!" yelled Thomas. "I'm not going to remove my helmet until you tell me to. Now can you just tell me what's happening?"

"Sorry. We need to go through the airlock protocols. And you need to respond to my requests and commands," said the airlock technician.

"I've done this a hundred times! Can you just tell me what is happening?"

"Sorry. You need to follow the checklist with me. I'm following the rules exactly. You need to do that as well."

"Then can we do the faster emergency pressurization protocol?" asked Thomas.

"It's not that level of emergency. I can't do that. I'm sorry."

Thomas gave up. He followed the checklist and responded to the airlock technician, but with obvious agitation in his voice.

Ten minutes later Thomas walked through the second door of the airlock and immediately took off his helmet. The young teenage boy with an apprentice badge on his shirt closed and sealed the door, then turned to his screen to finish logging the entry.

"OK, the checklist is finished," said the boy.

"What's happening?" asked the visibly frustrated Thomas as he started unzipping his suit.

"My boss left me here alone. People were texting each other saying that two Muslim guys were stabbed and that one of them is dead."

"Where?" asked Thomas.

"In Hestia. In one of the residential areas."

"Anything else?"

"No, that's all I know," said the boy. "The messaging system is down. So is the online system, except for the emergency system protocols that are online."

"Did anybody say exactly what happened?" asked Thomas.

"Some people were saying that there was a fight, and that two Muslim guys were stabbed and that there is blood everywhere. And then the messaging system got shut down."

Thomas put on his shoes and set off towards the Hestia residences, leaving behind his dusty and sweat-filled suit, telling the apprentice technician that he would return later to take care of it.

Thomas passed the entrance to the greenhouses and went down the hallway, stopping quickly at a water fountain. Still breathing heavily, he jogged down the next corridor and turned a corner to see a group of several dozen scientists standing behind an internal single-door emergency airlock. It was closed.

"Why is the door sealed? What happened?" asked Thomas as he approached the group, most of whom appeared to be Muslims.

"Don't worry. There's pressure on the other side," said one of the Muslim biologists. "But it might not be safe for other reasons."

"I was outside for the last few hours. I don't know...what happened?" asked Thomas.

Thomas then noticed Filip moving through the group.

"Hey Thomas, where are you coming from?" asked Filip.

"I was on a hike outside when I got an emergency message to return to my residence."

"We got that same message. But when we heard that two people were stabbed we decided to lock this door until we get the all-clear instructions. I'm OK with going through the door and into Hestia, but not everyone here may feel that way."

Thomas then saw the dilemma for the Muslim scientists.

"We have no idea what's happening on the other side," said the Muslim biologist. "So we don't want to be walking all the way through Hestia to get to our homes. We don't know who was attacked and why, but we did hear that they were Muslims."

"OK, that's understandable," said Thomas.

"We aren't able to message anybody, and we really want to get back to our families," said one of the women in the group. "One of those two men who were stabbed could be our brother or husband. We..."

"Why not take the utility hallway from near the greenhouse to al-Mua'qqibat Quarter?" asked Thomas.

"It's locked," said one of the group.

"There's a key in the greenhouse emergency supplies room," said Thomas. "And the hallway has the old single-door manual airlocks. We can walk right through."

Filip looked at Thomas with sudden consternation.

"OK, let's go," said one of the biologists.

Ten minutes later Thomas and the group of Muslim biologists arrived at the final door leading into the Muslim sector.

A face peered at the group through the small window. Thomas saw the expression on the young man's face in the window. It reminded him of the dread and trepidation he saw on people's faces back on Earth as they barricaded themselves in their homes.

Thomas stepped aside and one of the biologists put his face to the heavily insulated window and yelled instructions in Arabic as loud as he could.

"Why won't he open the door?" asked Thomas.

"He says that he's been told to not let anybody through the door," said one of the biologists.

After another ten minutes of miscommunication, the door opened. Hamit stood on the other side, shouting brief commands to the group in Turkish and Arabic as they entered.

"Thomas, come with me. And stay close," said Hamit as the door was locked behind them.

"OK," said Thomas. "Should I be worried?"

"Yes!" said Hamit. "But try to act confident. And walk like you know what you are doing and where you are going."

These instructions only made Thomas more fearful.

"Where are we going?" asked Thomas as the pair walked briskly through the halls of the Muslim quarter.

"To Hestia. You need to leave. I can't guarantee your safety here. But first I need to talk to you."

"What's happening?" asked Thomas. "I've been outside hiking for the last couple hours. All I know is that two Muslim men were stabbed and that at least one of them is dead. But no details."

"A young girl from one of the Arab families was seen going into the residence of a Hestian man. The men of the family found out and they went to Hestia along with some of their friends to bring her home. The Hestian men attacked and murdered them."

Thomas was stunned. He didn't know what to say.

As the two men approached the double airlock doors leading to the original colony, Thomas noticed the group of men standing near the closed door. All of them carried an assortment of tools, knives and what looked like 3D printed batons with sharpened ends. Thomas felt his throat drying. His heart started to pound harder.

Hamit approached the group ahead of Thomas and spoke briefly in Turkish. One of the men started arguing back at Hamit while pointing at the door. Hamit cut him off and shouted at the men. They stepped aside.

"OK, I don't think we will see each other in person for a while," said Hamit. "We will need to communicate online. Please, go to your residence and open a video chat with me as soon as the system is back online. We need to talk before you go to the Committee."

The men opened the door and Thomas stepped through.

"Do not slip on the blood," said Hamit as he motioned down towards the floor.

Thomas look down and saw a pool of congealed blood, and footprints tracking it around the airlock. In the middle were handprints.

"Whose blood is this?" asked a shocked Thomas.

The door closed behind him. He did not get an answer.

Thomas walked past the second open door, hoping to get as far away from the scene as possible.

"Thomas!" called out a voice over the intercom. "This is the command center. We need you to do something for us."

"OK," said Thomas. "What?"

"We can't close the airlock door remotely without initiating a forced shutdown of every airlock in the colony. We need you to close the second door by hand and then engage the manual lock mechanism."

Thomas disengaged the door from the wall and swung it closed. He then turned the locking mechanism until it was fully sealed. He looked through the small window and could see two faces looking at him from the other side of the airlock.

As he walked down the hall, Thomas could see spots of blood sprinkled on the floor. He tried his best to avoid stepping on them.

Thomas turned a corner and started to ascend the red sulfur concrete stairs that led to the original colony. The drops of blood continued. As he turned up another flight of stairs the blood ended, and he spotted the body.

Thomas looked at the dead girl. She had made it almost one-hundred meters from the airlock. The side of her face lay in a pool of red. Her long black hair was matted in the congealed blood in the floor. Her eyes were open. Thomas looked at her just long enough to see that she was dead. He stepped around her and continued up to stairs towards Hestia.

As he turned up the final flight of stairs he saw yet another group of men at the top—this time European—armed with improvised weapons. To his great relief, he also saw Mila.

"Command center says you locked the door?" said Mila.

"What?" said Thomas. He was numb and confused.

"The door on our side of the airlock. Did you close it?"

"Yes."

"And it's locked?" asked Mila.

"Yes, they told me to do it manually."

"You are sure?"

"Yes, I've seen the airlock technicians do it hundreds of times," said Thomas.

Mila turned to two men in the group and told them to go down towards the Muslim sector and confirm that the door was locked.

"There's a dead girl in the stairwell," said Thomas.

"Yes, we know," said Mila. "I will call the medical center to come over with a body bag."

"Who is she?" asked Thomas.

"You don't recognize her?"

"She's one of the Arab teenagers, I think. But I don't know her name, and I don't think I've ever spoken to her."

"Yes, she's from one of the Arab families," said Mila. "She's the reason for this whole mess."

"I've been outside hiking on the mountain. I just got back, so I've missed the last few hours. Can you please tell me what happened, because Hamit told me that two Muslim men were stabbed when they went to get their female relative from Hestia. I'm guessing the girl in the stairwell is that relative?"

"Yes, the family killed her," said Mila. "I guess it's one of those honor killings."

"Can you start from the beginning and then I'll tell you what Hamit said?" asked Thomas.

Mila turned to one of the Committee members and tasked them with collecting the weapons. The men were reluctant to hand them over, and only gave in when the two men returned from downstairs and confirmed that the airlock was fully locked.

"Hamit wants to video chat with me and discuss the situation, but I really need to know what you know before I do that," said Thomas.

"OK," said Mila. "We'll go to my office now. I'll give you the details and then you can call Hamit."

Thomas still felt slightly numb as he sat in Mila's office waiting for her to return from the command center. After twenty minutes that felt to Thomas like two hours, she returned.

"So, this is what we've been able to put together in the last couple of hours," said Mila. "There are still so many unanswered questions, but as it is right now it seems that this Arab girl Layla showed up in Hestia to meet up with Matteo, her secret boyfriend."

"What are the ages?"

"They are both seventeen," said Mila. "They are classmates."

"Where's Matteo from?"

"The family are Italians."

"North or south?" asked Thomas.

"Why does it matter?"

"If Matteo's family are refugees from southern Italy then it adds some extra significance."

"They're from the north, from Verona," said Mila.

"OK, sorry. So this girl Layla came to Hestia to meet up with her boyfriend?" asked Thomas.

"According to the father of Matteo, she fled here. The Italian family was sheltering her. The Arab family found out about the relationship and the mother had beat her. The girl ran to Hestia before the men in her family found out, as she feared what they would do. The Italian family let her in late last night and she stayed there overnight. This morning a group of eight men from the Muslim sector came to their door and demanded they hand her over."

Thomas listened silently as he tried to process what felt like a surreal dream.

"The family refused to open the door," said Mila. "But it seems our lightweight residential doors are designed to block sound but not to prevent forceful intrusions. The hallway camera clearly shows the Muslim men kicking the door off its hinges and entering the residence. We can't see what happens next inside, but very soon the Arabs walked back out dragging Layla."

"Is the family OK?"

"Yes," said Mila. "Well, Matteo was beaten and he chipped a tooth. Plus, he's traumatized, I'm sure."

"And the two Muslim men that were killed? Was it the Italian boyfriend or the father who did it?"

"No. The neighbors came to the rescue and blocked the hallway, stopping the Muslim men from leaving with Layla. They messaged their friends and soon there were almost an equal number of men on each side. The first Hestian man who tried to intervene and free the girl was knocked down and kicked in the head repeatedly. That's when one of the Hestian men stepped in and stabbed two of the Muslim men. It all happened very quickly. A couple of the Muslim men started to wave around their own knives and pushed their way through with the girl and fled back to the Muslim sector. But the two men who were stabbed didn't make it back. One died of blood loss here in our communal area, and the other lasted about twenty minutes in the clinic before he died."

"So nobody on the Hestian side was injured, aside from this kid Matteo?" asked Thomas.

"The Hestian man who was kicked in the head is in an induced coma with a severe brain injury."

"And Layla, did you see what happened to her?" asked Thomas. "Because I found her in the stairwell, but the blood started in the airlock."

"We saw that on video as well. And we have a positive identification on her brother and father as the killers. As they walked through the airlock they were confronted by some other Muslims—we don't know who. And then some in the group holding the girl had a pushing and shoving fight with the other men. And behind that chaos the father held Layla down and began to strangle her. She fought back pretty well and kept squirming out of the choke he held her in. But then the brother put his knee on her chest and started to cut her throat."

"And how did she escape?" asked Thomas.

"Some of the men from the other group got into the airlock and pushed the father and brother off of her. She got up and ran. They didn't pursue her. We have no cameras in the stairwell, but it seems that Layla had lost too much blood to make it back to Hestia."

Six hours later

Thomas sat in the Committee room quietly waiting for the members to finish reading their tablets

"OK, Thomas, at this point headquarters in Europe is telling us that they will be making most decisions from this point onward. That includes anything related to the killings. Europe has started legal proceedings for the Hestian who stabbed the two men, and he is under house arrest. He will be getting an attorney assigned remotely and he will be questioned remotely. We are not to talk to him in any way whatsoever about the case."

"And the father and son who murdered the girl?" asked Thomas.

"An investigator in Europe will lead that effort," said Mila. "We are merely to collect information for them."

"Even though we can't arrest the murderers?"

"Yes, that's what we are stuck with. We are waiting on guidance for that, considering the fact that the Muslims have basically barricaded themselves off from Hestia."

"And the Muslim governments?" asked Thomas. "What's their role?"

"There is no agreement between us and them regarding criminal cases on Mars. But they will probably demand a leading role in the investigation and in any resulting criminal prosecutions."

"And you need me to talk to Hamit about this?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, as soon as the IT guys have figured out a way to allow only you and Hamit to communicate. Europe is advising us to control communications here until we can put out a statement that fully details what happened and what is going to be done about it."

"What do you want me to ask Hamit?"

"We came up with a list of inquiries and requests for Hamit. Here, we put it on paper," said Mila as she slid Thomas a single sheet of flax paper.

Thomas looked at the long list and frowned. For the first time in his life, Thomas felt like he was no longer qualified to be in the position that he was.

The next morning

Mila was clearly frustrated. The rest of the Committee looked like they were too tired to show any emotion.

"They do understand that all the food and the long-term supply and production of oxygen is on our side of the airlock, right?" asked Mila. "And they understand that even if they block the water pipes, we could go a year on recycled water? What is their game plan with this blockade?"

"In the short term? Survival," replied Thomas. "They think that we may kill them if they open the airlocks."

"And Hamit said this?"

"No, but he said that there are others in al-Mua'qqibat who really do believe this, especially after the Hestian man died of his head injuries last night."

"So they want to live behind those two locked doors for now while we send them food and life support?" asked Mila.

"Yes, that's about it for now."

"And they realize that if we actually wanted to kill them we would just turn off the flow of oxygen, right?" said Mila. "They do understand this and see that we don't want to kill them, right?"

"Hamit says that they understand this clearly," said Thomas. "But the Muslims distinguished between Hestia's leadership and its head engineers on one hand, and the average Hestian on the other. They know you won't kill them, but they are assuming that some Hestians may be looking for revenge and they might kill any Muslim to that end."

"OK, what are the other main points of your talk with Hamit?" asked Mila. "Sorry, I was busy reading a document sent by the investigators in Europe. I didn't read your summary."

"Hamit says that they will handle all legal proceedings in which the accused is a Muslim."

"Are you serious?" asked a suddenly angry Mila.

"To quote Hamit, he said ' _We will handle this on our own_.'"

"That is not how it works. His position and his little council were only ever meant for minor community affairs."

"I think we are far beyond that in Hamit's mind, and in the mind of every Muslim on Mars," said Thomas.

"So he thinks that the Hestian who stabbed the two Muslim men should be punished by us, and that his community will deal with the men who kicked the Hestian man to death and then murdered Layla?"

"Hamit said that three Muslims are dead and only one Hestian died," replied Thomas. "For this reason, he seems to believe that they have some sort of moral upper hand in this situation."

"Jesus Christ!" said a Committee member as he cut into the conversation. "One of those Muslims was murdered by her own family. And this group from al-Mua'qqibat initiated the conflict. The two Muslim men are dead because they were murdering a man lying unconscious on the ground. As a former judge, can Hamit not see how fault should be assigned here?"

"Hamit is acting as the leader of his community, not as an impartial judge," said Thomas. "And I believe in this situation he is not leading his community, but rather following them. He has always been worried about being seen as an errand boy for this Committee rather than an authentic leader of the Muslim community."

"OK, absolutely not of this is surprising," said Mila. "Anything else we need to go over that's not in your written summary?"

"Yes, it's something that is now Hamit's problem and not very relevant for us, but it's an interesting look at relations within the Muslim sector," said Thomas.

"Yes?"

"The Muslim men who tried to rescue the girl," said Thomas. "It turns out they are all from the same Salafi prayer group."

"Like, extremists?" asked a Committee member.

"Salafis advocate for purifying Islam and going back to some sort of authentic perfect version of the past that they fantasize about. It's the ideology that's historically been behind many terrorist groups. But many of them are also apolitical and completely non-violent. I've known about this small circle here in the Muslim sector for a while now. They spend their time studying, praying, and communicating with religious scholars back home. They are harmless."

"So, what's the significance of this?" asked Mila.

"Hamit has detained the father and son who committed the murder, but he has also detained this Salafi prayer group," said Thomas. "Seven men, to be exact."

"He's detained seven men for trying to rescue a girl who was being murdered in public?" asked Mila.

"Yes. He says that they committed violence and that this must be investigated, but I believe the real reason is that they have always rejected Hamit's leadership. I've been told by others in al-Mua'qqibat that this small group and some of their sympathizers believe that anybody who leads a Muslim community must not just be a good Muslim, but rather an actual scholar of Islam or a leader who defers to scholars' advice on all legal and government issues."

"So he has jailed the political opposition?" asked Mila.

"Yes, basically."

"OK, that not a big issue for us at the moment given our larger problems. So if there's not anything else, then we're done."

"Well, maybe just a quick inquiry?" said Thomas. "A few Hestians stopped me on my way here and asked me a question that I couldn't answer."

"What is it?" asked Mila.

"The third group of Muslims departed Earth two weeks ago," said Thomas. "So that means that they still have more than enough fuel to stop and return to Earth, if I recall correctly from what I was told when I came on the Russian transport."

"Yes, there is enough fuel to return to Earth," said a Committee member. "But this is not a Russian transport. It's an all-French operation and it's carrying the EML Maine."

"Sorry, what's that?"

"It's the European Mars Lander _Maine_ ," continued the Committee member. "It's the new type. The important distinction here is that it's a Mars lander, not an Earth lander. It can't enter the Earth's atmosphere like the Russian Mars landers could. Essentially, the next Muslim group is on a one-way trip and they can't go back. They'll be here in five months no matter what."

"So that's how much time we have to solve all of our problems: five months," said Mila.

"Oh, and one final thing," said Thomas.

"What?" asked Mila wearily.

"The Muslims are not asking for Layla's body."

"Well, that answers my question of whether or not the family wants to bury the woman they murdered," said Mila.

"They are too scared to go outside using the back airlock," said Thomas. "So Hamit asked if we could bury her."

"Yes, fine. I'll put you in charge of that," said Mila.

"And they asked that she be buried neither near Graham's grave, nor in the graveyard where Abdelatif is buried."

"Why?" asked Mila.

"Hamit said that the family despised Graham, and that Layla's father had some sort of dispute with Abdelatif."

"A dispute?"

"Hamit didn't say this, but I'm pretty sure Abdelatif studied and prayed with the Salafis. Layla's father had some sort of argument with Abdelatif about religious practices in the mosque. And, to add to it, the father is still angry that the Salafis tried to intervene in the honor killing."

"Yeah, OK. I don't have time for this," said Mila. "Like I said: you're in charge of this. There's plenty of empty space out there on the surface to bury bodies. Bury Layla wherever you think is appropriate."

Two days later

"Thomas, can I ask you a private question?" said Matteo as he looked back one last time at the hilltop where they had just buried Layla.

"Sure, Matteo. Let's switch to a closed two-way channel."

Matteo, in no hurry to get back inside the colony, sat down on a rock ledge.

"OK, what is it?" asked Thomas.

"Will this cause a problem for you?"

"What, exactly?"

"I mean, well, first of all...Layla's family refused to come to her burial," said Matteo. "And I don't mean only her father and brother. I would have killed them if they tried to attend her funeral. And I would kill them even if they just left the Muslim sector."

"I wouldn't repeat that inside Hestia," said Thomas.

"Yeah, that's why I'm talking to you on a private channel," said Matteo. "But that's not where I'm going with my question. I'm thinking that the Muslims hate me, and they see me as causing her death. From what I've heard, most of them see Layla's murder as justified."

"From what I can tell, it's a small minority," said Thomas.

"Of course, it's always a small minority and the community is never to blame. That's what we keep getting told. But my question is about you. You know that the Muslims hate me, and that they blame me. And you know that having me front and center at the funeral is a provocation. But you pushed back against Mila and the Committee and you made sure that I was here. In fact, from what I can tell, you snuck me here. You had your friend Daniel put me in one of the spacesuits that belong to the greenhouse, and then you told the guys at the airlock that the exclusion of my name from the exit list was a mistake and that there wasn't enough time to fix the error. You pushed me into the airlock and told them to start the depressurization."

"Well, the father and son were never going to be permitted to be at the funeral, even if they wanted to," said Thomas. "We would use the opportunity to arrest them for kidnap and murder. The women in the family and her Muslim school friends probably would have liked to be here. But I'm sure they are too scared to leave the Muslim sector. I asked Hamit if he could send a Muslim who could do the funeral prayers, and he said that nobody volunteered to do that. So if Layla has that little value to them, then she at least deserved to have you there when we put her in the ground."

"I can guess that much," said Matteo. "But you are always trying to do whatever you can to avoid risk. To the Muslims this is a provocation, or an insult. Whatever it is, it seems like the opposite of what it is you usually do. Why is that? I'm trying to figure out your motivation here."

Thomas realized that he was dealing with yet another Hestian teenager who was too smart to be dealt with in the same way that he would approach an average teenager back on Earth.

Thomas decided to say it.

"I've been in your situation before—on an even worse scale. I've lost everything. Or rather, everything was taken from me. But at least I was able to be there for the funeral. I wouldn't deprive anybody of that."

"Oh. Were you..."

"I'm not going to say anything more," said Thomas. "That's all you get."

"Sure," said Matteo as he stood up.

"Now, do you want to go straight back to Hestia, or do you want to take a long detour and do a hike?" asked Thomas.

"A hike."

One week later

"You directly ignored our instructions and brought the Italian boy to the girl's burial. Why did you think this was a good idea?" asked Mila.

"The kid just showed up at the airlock with his own suit," said Thomas. "I felt I couldn't say no."

"And where did Matteo get a spacesuit despite not being on the exit list?"

"I don't know," replied Thomas. "I didn't ask. I figured he got permission at the last moment."

Thomas noted to himself that nobody else on the Committee seemed as angry or concerned as Mila. Most of them seemed completely disinterested, while one smirked and another smiled.

"Well, nothing we can do about that now," said Mila. "Have you heard anything about how the Muslims feel about Matteo being at the funeral?"

"I don't think they know. Or if they do, Hamit hasn't brought it up. And the Muslims are not saying anything to each about it other online."

"They are probably talking to each other in person," said Mila. "Their use of the online forums has declined quite a bit recently."

"Yes, I've noticed," said Thomas.

"OK, since you've been talking to Matteo, is there anything we should know?"

"Yes, he's quit going to school with an excused absence, and he has traded favors of some sort to get other people's surface time allotments. He's gone hiking almost every day since the funeral."

"Is it to visit the girl's grave?" asked Mila.

"I'm not sure. The safety coordinator told me that Matteo doesn't exactly stick to the main trails, and that he's mostly been wandering aimlessly in the sand dunes."

"Should we be talking to the therapists who are assigned to him?"

"That's not my specialty," said Thomas. "So I'm not sure. But I did talk to him, and I think he needs to get a focus of some sort. I think he needs an assignment that gets him out of the colony semi-regularly."

"Such as?" asked Mila.

"How about an apprenticeship with the ice miners?"

"You think he'll want to do that?" asked Mila. "He's one of the top students."

"Actually, it was Matteo's own idea. I just agree with it."

"OK. Done," said Mila. "The kid can join the Hestian ice mining crew."

"Great, I'll let Matteo know."

"Sure, but one final detail."

"Yeah?"

"The apprenticeship will be part-time and he will only be at the mine site when the Muslim crew is not there," said Mila.

"OK," said Thomas, relieved that things had gone his way in the Committee room.

### Chapter Eleven

" _The main thing that I learned about conspiracy theory is that conspiracy theorists actually believe in a conspiracy because that is more comforting. The truth of the world is that it is chaotic... The truth is more frightening, nobody is in control. The world is rudderless."_

\- Alan Moore, 2003.

Thomas had run across the colony and was starting to sweat as he entered the flight control center.

Mila and the flight technicians broke up their talk as she gestured for Thomas to come over.

"Thomas, the lander entered the upper atmosphere fifteen minutes ago, and it has not arrived at the landing field."

"It missed the field?"

"It missed the field and it didn't land anywhere after the field on its trajectory," said Mila. "We would have seen it. The flight control techs are telling me that this means it crashed well short."

"It crashed? Couldn't it just have landed short of the field?" asked Thomas.

"No. They say that only a catastrophic structural failure followed by a steep descent would have this result. We are waiting for observations from orbit. The crew will have a view once again before they pick up their Chinese payload and depart."

Thirty minutes later Thomas and Mila listened as a French-accented voice from orbit narrated.

"The debris field is very thin, but you can see it when we zoom in," said the voice. "The wreckage from the lander stretches out over almost eighty kilometers. As you can see, no large part of the EML Maine is intact. It is a complete disintegration that probably began well up in the atmosphere."

Thomas walked to the back of the flight control center and sat in a chair. He listened to the continual radio chatter, almost none of which he could understand. But he knew it was over for the entire group of new arrivals.

The radio chatter then switched to Chinese as Mila returned to the back of the room.

"What happening now?" asked Thomas.

"The spacecraft is coming back around in orbit again and the entire operation has switched over to focusing on the rendezvous with the Chinese payload."

"They can't delay it?"

"No," said Mila, "the Chinese already lifted off."

"Imagine being able to send cargo back to Earth," said Thomas as he awkwardly tried to make conversation.

Mila didn't respond.

"What's next?" asked Thomas.

"They are going to take some better-quality photos from our satellite. But there's nothing that will do other than give the investigators something to look at."

"I meant, how will we be informing everybody?" said Thomas. "There is a livestream of the landing site, and the countdown ended about forty-five minutes ago. I've been getting messages non-stop for the last half hour."

"Have you answered any?" asked Mila.

"No, not yet."

"Good," said Mila. "I'm heading to the Planning Committee room now. I'll make the announcement."

"Do you need me to help with anything?" asked Thomas.

"No."

Thomas sat in his chair, not knowing where to go and what to do. He was not sure if he was needed anywhere or by anybody. The radio chatter continued, with calm voices calling out technical information.

Thomas decided to return to his room.

24 hours later

Hamit was not getting the answers he needed from Thomas.

"Sorry Hamit, they said that the bodies are just too far away. It's not possible to venture that far. And it's definitely not possible to go that far and arrange a burial or the retrieval of 250 bodies. The bodies are thinly spread out over an eighty-kilometer-long debris field, and the first body is probably thirty kilometers away over very rough terrain. Our vehicles can't navigate the route."

"So nobody will be able to even inspect the crash site? How are we to know what caused the crash?" asked Hamit.

"The Chinese said that in two years they'll get delivered a drone that can fly to the location and closely inspect the debris. Like us, they do all their surveying by satellite, so all they have right now are some small experimental shuttle drones that were designed to fly between their colony and Hestia."

"So we are completely without answers?" said Hamit.

"For now, all we know is what flight headquarters on Earth said: that all instruments were fine and no problems were detected up until the exact time that the Maine landing craft entered the atmosphere. Then all transmissions suddenly stopped."

"And this is not suspicious to you?"

"I'm not an engineer. I don't know what any of this means," said Thomas.

"I'm not an engineer either," said Hamit, "but I need something to tell my people. Many of them believe it was deliberate sabotage."

"Who would do that? It wasn't just Muslims on that lander. Do they really think that fifteen European scientists on their way to a new life on Mars would kill themselves? Do they think the flight engineers on the lander would sabotage their own craft? Do they think the engineers who built this thing and inspected it before take-off would kill their colleagues and destroy a lander that they've worked on and developed for almost a decade? As for Hestia, we only observe the landing. There is not a single process in the landing that we control besides clearing the landing field."

"Thomas, what would the Hestians believe if the situation was reversed and they were mourning the sudden loss of family? Of hundreds of people? Especially considering the recent history of relations between Hestians and Muslims. This is the challenge I face when I will talk to my people."

"Yes, I know..."

"I know that you understand this," said Hamit. "But you must also get the other Hestians to understand. I'm trying to lead a community full of people who feel like they just lost everything. People have lost brothers and cousins on that lander. Many men here just had their fiancées smashed into the Martian rocks. I lost my nephew and his family."

Thomas listened without making any attempt to add his own thoughts.

"I suppose in the end that our views here on Mars do not matter," said Hamit. "All decisions will be made on Earth. From what I can tell, the united military command in Istanbul is enraged and they are making some demands of Europe. What those demands are, nobody can say right now. My contacts in the civilian government know nothing. I just don't know."

"Neither do I," said Thomas. "And if Mila knows, she hasn't told me."

"So here we are in the dark on Mars."

Two days later

"OK, Thomas. Go ahead," said Mila.

Thomas looked up at the full Committee and then back to his screen for one final check of his talking points.

"First, as per the inquiry about a memorial, the Muslims have turned down the offer of a colony-wide memorial. The Muslims want to keep it as a private community affair. Tonight is the end of a three-day mourning period, and Hamit says that most people in the Muslim sector will then resume their normal activities."

"OK, fine," said Mila. "Any concerns from the Committee?"

The Committee stayed silent.

"Thomas, can you skip to the part about what the Muslims are saying about the cause of the crash, including these online conspiracy theories that people are reading?"

"Sure," said Thomas. "The European Mars Lander _Maine_ was built in Le Mans, and then transported to French Guiana for the rocket launch. The most widely believable conspiracy theory coming from Earth is that the lander was sabotaged by the engineers in Le Mans in revenge for the Arab raids into the surrounding region that happened five years ago."

"The _most believable_? Why do you say this?" asked Mila.

"Because all the other conspiracy theories coming from Muslims on Earth say that _we_ destroyed the lander. But the Muslims here seem to have accepted what the scientists and technicians from their own community have told them: that Hestia has no role in the landing other than watching. We control nothing. We couldn't destroy it even if we wanted. But there are still some misconceptions that need to be cleared up after consulting with the engineers."

"Such as?" asked Mila.

"Some of the people in the Muslim sector are saying that because the atmosphere is so much thinner than on Earth, the atmospheric entry should be gentle and risk-free, and that it's not possible for the lander to be damaged during atmospheric entry. On our side some people are saying that maybe it was a collision with space debris left in orbit by the Chinese. I've heard that these possibilities have already been ruled out based on simple scientific and engineering facts. So the people on the engineering and technician side need to give us those facts so that we can integrate them into our talking points."

"OK, we'll go ahead and make a request for that," said Mila.

"And there may be a problem on the Hestian side with some wild story-telling originating back on Earth," said Thomas.

"Such as?"

"The far-right version in Europe at the moment is that Hestians deliberately crashed the lander because the Muslims on board were soldiers in disguise."

"We can't do anything about what people back in Europe are saying," said Mila. "So I need you to focus only on what versions are gaining traction in Hestia and in the Muslim sector."

"OK, no problem."

"And you need to get more active with our task of convincing the Muslims to start coming back to Hestia again," said Mila.

"Right now? Under these circumstances?"

"That's Europe talking," said Mila. "That's the directive I got from them. The segregation is now being used against us in the Muslim world. They say we are enforcing a blockade on the Muslim sector. Europe wants this fixed as soon as possible."

"After the killings it took two weeks before we could convince the Muslim scientists to again leave their sector and work with their Hestian colleagues. And even then it was through a door that remained locked and guarded by Muslims. The rest of them still haven't come to the gym, the swimming pools, the cafeterias, or the shared common areas. If we couldn't overcome that in six months, how are we to fix _this_ in the near term?"

Mila adjourned the meeting without responding.

Four days later

"So, what's the big news?" asked Daniel. "The Committee just called in the head of every department."

"I think they want to brief them on what's happening on Earth," said Thomas.

"And what's happening on Earth?"

"The Turks and the Arabs just submitted their demands to Europe. And they say that the main demands are non-negotiable."

"What are the demands? Do you know?" asked Daniel.

"Yes, Mila filled me in," replied Thomas. "The Turks and the Arabs are demanding that Europe apologize for reckless negligence with the Maine lander crash. For every person on the EML Maine, Europe is to pay compensation to a family back on Earth. But I don't know the amount. And Europe must give a Muslim investigative team full access to Europe's own investigation of the crash."

"So they want Europe to admit fault even before the investigation is complete?" asked Daniel.

"Yes, basically."

"And the other demands?"

"Every other demand is Mars-based," said Thomas.

"What do you mean, _Mars-based_?" asked Daniel.

"They are demanding the construction of a fully-equipped and fully-operational second colony of equal size, and then the Muslims get to choose which one they will live in. For the new fully-Muslim colony there will then be twenty years of supplies and flights, including passenger transport, all paid for by Europe. Plus a full range of technical services that Hestians will offer at no charge to the Muslim colony during those two decades."

"That would take forever and cost an insane amount of money, but it would rid us of the Muslim problem here on Hestia," said Daniel.

"That assumes that they choose to go to the new colony and leave us with Hestia."

"The new colony would have updated equipment and tech. I'm sure it will be the better place to live once it's done."

"Yeah, we'll see," said Thomas unhopefully.

"Anything else?"

"Plenty," said Thomas. "The demand is that before the end of those two decades of Europe supporting the new Muslim colony, there will be a territorial delimitation that must be completed, with Europe convincing the Chinese to agree to the division of Mars with the Turks and Arabs being given no less that thirty-three percent of the planet."

"That's a direct violation of the Outer Space Treaty and the Mars Treaty," said Daniel. "If we violate either of those treaties then the Chinese will no longer be bound by them. They will go wild and set up twenty colonies around this planet and claim it all for themselves and nobody will be able to do anything about it. The Chinese colony is a military outpost and everyone knows it."

"Yes, apparently Europe already said as much to the Muslims. I'm assuming the Muslims just put in some unreasonable demands so that Europe can feel like they got a concession when this territorial division demand is scrapped."

"Are the Muslims really serious?" said Daniel. "They think they can get all of this in exchange for one single accident?"

"There's no more war to keep the Muslim world distracted," said Thomas. "The crash happened one week ago and it is still the number one story in Turkey and the Arab countries. There is popular and sustained outrage in the Muslim world."

"And if Europe pushes back hard on the Muslim demands?" asked Daniel.

"The Turks are saying that if Europe does not give in to their demands, then they will consider it a violation of the overall peace treaty. I wouldn't be surprised if the Arabs say the same thing soon."

"I guess we all knew that treaty was temporary. They want to conquer Europe," said Daniel.

Thomas decided to not reply.

"And you know," said Daniel. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was the Muslims themselves who sabotaged the lander."

Thomas again decided to stay silent.

### Chapter Twelve

" _We must learn to live together as brothers,_

or we are going to perish together as fools."

\- Martin Luther King, Jr., 1964.

"... _two sworn enemies standing waist deep in gasoline,_

one with three matches, the other with five."

\- Carl Sagan, 1983.

"What's the daily crossing traffic at the moment?" asked Mila.

"The Muslims open the airlock door to Hestia for five minutes in the morning, and for five minutes at the end of the work day," replied Thomas. "During that time about thirty-five scientists cross from the Muslim sector every day to and from the labs in Hestia. That's down from the almost 200 scientists who used to come. And the Muslim students and apprentices who previously did work in the labs and work sites...well, it's down to zero unless you count the few Muslims who chose to live on our side."

The Committee members seemed bored with Thomas already.

"OK, I understand that they are still grieving, but we need to get those numbers back to normal," said Mila. "Perhaps you could bring this up with Hamit once again?"

"Well, he might be busy with other problems right now," said Thomas.

"Might be? Or he is?"

"He is. There are some serious disagreements in the Muslim sector over prayers and the grieving period."

"What could possibly be the problem?" asked Mila.

"Several days ago was the fortieth day since the crash. Hamit says that some of the Turkish women met in the women's mosque to do a traditional prayer that they do forty days after the death of a loved one. But this deeply angered some of the Arab men. They came into the women's area of the mosque and hit a few of the women in the face and threw them out."

Mila threw up her hands in exasperation.

"I know, it took some explaining by Hamit," said Thomas. "It turns out that the forty days of mourning followed by special prayers on the fortieth day is a source of contention amongst Muslims. Some see it as a forbidden practice that was introduced by non-Muslims. And it makes them quite angry, for whatever reason."

One of the Committee members started to mockingly laugh out loud.

"So has Hamit calmed down his people?" asked Mila.

"Actually, he said that this incident led to some of the Turkish men badly beating up the Arab men who struck the Turkish women. And there's an additional complication."

"Perfect. What is it?" asked Mila.

"Well, Hamit says that he personally led the beating. He said that he himself doesn't believe that there should be any grieving or prayers after a three-day mourning period, but that beating defenseless women in a mosque is a far greater sin."

"Did this lead to controlling the situation, or making it worse?"

"Well, I've lost many of my sources in the Muslim sector," said Thomas. "So much is unclear. But I have a Turkish contact who lives on our side. He said it's very tense in the Muslim sector. He still talks to a few of the Turkish scientists regularly, and they say that Hamit and his men beat the Arab men quite badly. The doctors on their side needed to give them stitches and go through a concussion protocol for their head injuries."

"Was it the Salafi men who were beaten?" asked Mila.

"No, a totally different group of men."

"OK. That's not our problem for now," said Mila. "But stop by my office after the meeting is adjourned and we can go over a strategy for getting Hamit to re-open his sector."

An hour later Thomas sat in Mila's office, writing down her long list of requests on his tablet.

"And finally," said Mila, "talk to Hamit about the cameras in the Muslim sector. They've destroyed or covered up most of them. But we need the cameras back online that show the water filtration equipment, as well as the cameras in the airlock between the two sectors."

"OK. I'll edit this and show you a final draft before I send it to Hamit."

"Great. And for your work on our side," said Mila, "I'll need you to ask around about the situation in Hestia with homemade weapons."

"You're worried about the rumor that people are 3D printing knives and swords?"

"Yes."

"OK, so then what do you want me to do?" asked Thomas.

"Just try to persuade them that the other side is not doing the same thing."

"I'm not sure I can prove to Hestians that something is not being done in the Muslim sector," said Thomas.

"So what can you do?" asked Mila, who suddenly seemed frustrated.

"I can give you honest answers. I can tell you what will and won't work."

"OK, so give me an honest answer. What is happening out there?"

"Well, what we have is a sort of dilemma," said Thomas, "where each side thinks the other side is preparing for violence. And they think that if they don't also prepare, then they'll be caught in a weak position. In this sort of scenario, everybody believes that there is a strong incentive to arm oneself and display their strength. This display encourages the other to do the same. It just escalates from there..."

"And what do you base this on?" asked Mila.

"This happened in so many cities in Europe. The authorities could not guarantee security, and so the people began to arm themselves for protection. And that protection was against the others that were seen arming themselves, or who were thought to be arming themselves."

"And your _Hamburg Model_? How did you make it work?" asked Mila. "How did you convince the two sides to not strike first?"

"I didn't. It just didn't happen. There were probably a dozen reasons why, some of which I don't even know about."

"And yet you were given credit for it," said Mila.

"By one newspaper and by some TV news channel," said Thomas. "And then the city government gave me an award. But I never claimed to be the savior of that city."

"Yes, I know. I've always known."

Thomas remained silent and did not respond or show any surprise.

"I know that there is no Hamburg Model," said Mila. "And I know that you were not the architect of anything in Hamburg. You just happened to be the most identifiable figure in a city that avoided the conflict thanks to many unique circumstances and events that can't be replicated."

"Yeah, I know where you got that," said Thomas. "I'm surprised you read such an obscure article. The author whose work you read was out to discredit me from the beginning. He's an academic who argues that structural factors in society, the economy and politics determine everything, and that individual actions count for very little."

"You're saying he's wrong?" asked Mila.

"No. I'm saying that I've never claimed or promised anything. I've always done my best to give an informed opinion and to list possible scenarios..."

"Yes, of course," said Mila as she interrupted Thomas. "What you do is not an exact science. If it was a real science, you could replicate results and predict future events. But society is not predictable, and neither are politics and war. It's infinitely complex with a million inter-connected factors. I understand that. And I know that you were never in a position to fix our... _structural_ problems here."

"So why did you approve my position and allow me to come to Mars?" asked Thomas.

"I didn't. It was imposed upon us, just as these Muslims were. We were hoping that the Muslim immigration situation would go smoothly enough to not be an issue, and that you—like the Muslims—could just retrain and transition into some sort of useful role here."

"But you must have known that it would be a particularly difficult challenge to manage relations with the Muslims," said Thomas. "Especially considering how Hestians were—and were not—screened."

"And what does that mean?"

"I put it together on my own after talking to a few dozen Hestians about their experiences in the selection process for the Mars colony."

"OK, enlighten me, please," said Mila.

"Sure," said Thomas as he scrolled through his tablet looking for a document he had compiled.

Mila sat across the table with a look of boredom mixed with annoyance.

"OK, here it is," continued Thomas. "It turns out there was rigorous screening of colonists for homophobia, misogyny, dislike for children, disdain for the elderly, anti-Semitism, anti-Americanism, Sinophobia, Russophobia, racism and overly combative or argumentative personalities. However, the screening was far less rigorous with views on Islam and religion. They only screened out the most extreme personalities, leaving a large percentage who were receptive to negative views of Muslims."

"OK, and why do you think this is?" asked Mila.

"I assume because they were screening for the interactions that would be had on Mars and on the way here. No thought was made to the idea that an equal number of Muslim immigrants would arrive someday on Mars."

"Yes, that's about right," said Mila. "Plus, anti-Muslim views were so common during the war that screening for Islamophobia would have eliminated too many good candidates."

Thomas sat awkwardly trying to think of a response. He was relieved when Mila's phone started to ring.

Thomas' relief soon turned to concern as he listened to Mila's side of the conversation.

"Hold on for one second!" said Mila as she turned on the phone's speaker. "Thomas, you need to hear this. It's the safety team in the command center. They're saying that there is an unidentified and unauthorized person outside the Muslim sector in the lava tube, dragging around a large tool box."

"It's a mining drill," said a voice from the command center. "That box has a large drill, batteries and drill bits."

"So, maybe it's unscheduled construction work," said Mila. "I don't have time for this right now. You guys can take care of this. I'll hand you over to Thomas and he can send a request to Hamit if you think that it's someone from the Muslim sector doing unauthorized work."

"The guy with the drill is not responding to any radio calls," said the command center. "There is no way he isn't hearing the calls on the emergency frequency. He's deliberately ignoring us."

Mila started to fidget. Thomas sat back in his chair, feeling useless.

"Umm...it looks like, uh, he's starting to drill the door," said the command center.

"What?" said Mila.

"He's trying to destroy the airlock at the back of the Muslim sector," said the command center.

"Send somebody to stop him, now!" shouted Mila.

"It will take at least thirty minutes to get someone outside the other airlock, around the colony and up to the elevator shaft that goes down into the lava tube," replied the command center. "The airlock might not last that long!"

"Then what are you doing?" asked Mila. "Send someone through the Muslim quarter and through the first door of the external airlock. They can then protect the final door!"

"Even if the Muslims let us through the first airlock that they've blockaded, there's not enough time to get a suit on and safely follow depressurization protocols at the outside airlock," replied the command center.

"Then I ask again, what are you doing?!" yelled Mila.

"Sorry. Give me thirty seconds," came the reply. "We're calling the miners now. They might be closer."

Mila stood up and paced back and forth for a very long thirty seconds.

"OK, we told the miners what's happening," said the command center operator as he shouted back and forth with another person. "We're on the line with them now. But they're already back in Hestia."

Thomas looked at Mila's face, and saw growing panic. The command center asked for another minute. Thomas could hear yelling on the other side of the line.

"Alright, we may have an option," said the command center. "The mining crew leader said that one of their school apprentices stayed behind to clean up and prep their worksite for the next shift. They are trying to reach him on their radio right now. If he's on his way back from the worksite he might be close enough to get to the airlock quickly."

"We can't ask a kid to..." said Thomas right before the realization hit him.

"Why not?" said Mila. "As an apprentice he's an older teenager, isn't he? And if he's on the mining crew he's one of the tougher boys."

"It's him," said Thomas.

"Who?"

"It's Matteo. The Italian boy who was dating the Arab girl Layla. It has to be him."

"He's going to kill them all," said Mila out loud to herself as the same realization dawned on her.

"That's why there's no answer to the radio calls," said Thomas frantically. "Matteo doesn't want to negotiate. And he's clearly planned this out well. We have only one option, and that's an evacuation of the Muslim sector into Hestia."

"OK, maybe," said Mila nervously. "There may be other options. For now we need to go to the command center."

After almost five minutes of jogging, Thomas and Mila entered the command center.

"Mila!" yelled the command center director as he saw her enter. "We have less time than I thought. He destroyed the first door of the airlock. He knew exactly where the internal hinges were, and he destroyed them with the drill. And he's now setting up the drill inside the airlock. Looks like he's going to go through the second and final door now."

"How soon?" asked Mila in disbelief.

"It took him about ten minutes to get through the first door," said the director. "This one may take less. I'm not sure. We need to seal all internal doors and airlocks now and order people to shelter."

"No!" said Thomas. "We need to get everybody in al-Mua'qqibat to evacuate to our side first."

"That's right," said Mila. "They need to be on our side of the internal airlock when that kid drills through the external airlock."

"OK. I can call the evacuation now," said the command center director. "But I can't open the doors from here, I can only close them. So if I call an evacuation and there is a stampede of people and the first few don't know how to open the airlock manually, then they will be crushed."

"OK, Thomas, you and I are going to the airlock entrance of the Muslim sector," said Mila. "Call Hamit and tell him that every single person in his quarter needs to get through that airlock and into Hestia in the next ten minutes or less. But he needs to get that door open first!"

As they ran towards the Muslim quarter, Thomas put in his earpiece and made the call.

"What's he saying?" asked Mila as she gasped for air.

"He doesn't need any convincing. They can hear the drill. Hamit says he's at the Hestia airlock now. He says he's opening it."

Suddenly an emergency siren sounded overhead and the announcement began: "ALL RESIDENTS OF AL-MUA'QQIBAT. EVACUATE TO HESTIA NOW. YOUR SECTOR WILL SOON LOSE ATMOSPHERE AND PRESSURE. STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING AND WALK QUICKLY TOWARDS HESTIA. THE AIRLOCK IS NOW OPEN. YOU HAVE LESS THAN FIVE MINUTES."

The people running the opposite direction from the Muslim sector started as a small number, and then turned into a flood as Thomas and Mila ran down the final hallway towards the airlock. The Muslims were now steaming past Thomas and Mila in large numbers, some carrying their children and others trailing behind their faster kids.

Arriving at the airlock, Thomas and Mila came to a narrow chokepoint. The Muslim evacuees coming the other direction blocked their way.

Thomas looked past the crowd and spotted Hamit, busy directing people through the open airlock doors.

"Thomas! Come through!" yelled Hamit as he momentarily blocked the flow of people.

"Is your family through yet?" asked Thomas as he and Mila stepped through the airlock.

"Yes, Yes! Do not worry about them. They have gone already," replied Hamit.

Thomas looked over and saw two of Hamit's council members directing the evacuees. One was counting out loud in Turkish.

"What's the count?" asked a frantic and out of breath Mila.

"307...308...309!" yelled Hamit as people continued to run through the airlock and into Hestia. "Plus about thirty scientists from our side who went to work today."

"OK, we can do this," said Mila. "That's almost half."

"Some of the people are refusing to leave!" yelled Hamit. "They won't leave their rooms. Maybe they think it's a trap...I don't know! Do we really only have a few minutes?"

"Yes. The external airlock could be destroyed at any..." said Mila before she cut her sentence short.

Thomas followed Mila's eyes to see what had caught her attention. As he turned around he could see three men coming from the same direction as the evacuees. But they were not evacuating. Thomas first noticed their faces—bruised and cut. He then noticed the knives in their hands.

Thomas froze, unable to react.

The three men struck out at Thomas and Mila, pushing them to the side and then rushing at Hamit, who put his hands up to defend himself.

Thomas felt everything slow down. He thought to himself: _I've never seen these men before._

Thomas reached out and pulled Mila away as the attackers focused on Hamit, stabbing him again and again while screaming in Arabic. Hamit's council members flailed helplessly in their attempt to rescue him.

As Thomas pulled Mila towards the airlock he noticed the blood streaming down his arm from a stab wound on his shoulder. Then, stepping through the first airlock door, Thomas looked back and saw that the evacuees were now running the opposite direction, back into the Muslim sector and away from the attack.

"Take my earpiece," said Mila as she tried to press down on the large cut that ran down her stomach. "Take it. Talk to the command center."

Thomas put in the earpiece and immediately heard the frantic request: "Seal the airlock door now! Just one of them. The second door on our side! Do it! You can do it faster manually than we can!"

"But half of the people are still..." said Thomas as he tried to stop his wound from bleeding.

"Now! Do it now! The outside airlock will be destroyed any second!" yelled the command center. "You will kill everybody in Hestia if you don't seal this airlock!"

Thomas stepped through the airlock and into Hestia, pulling Mila along as he looked back one last time. He saw Hamit lying lifeless on the ground.

"Faster!" screamed the command center. "Please!"

Thomas grabbed the airlock door and disengaged it from the wall. As he stepped back he heard the explosion. A split-second later a blast of air from Hestia rushed past Thomas. Matteo had destroyed the airlock.

The depressurization blast caught the door and it swung towards the airlock door frame, but it did not close. The blast of air pushed the door into Thomas and pinned him to the door frame. The seal was broken. The atmosphere rushed through.

The lights went out and a single emergency light in the airlock lit up. Thomas felt the blast of depressurization slow down to a strong wind. He could feel that his waist and shoulder were crushed in the doorframe. Thomas knew he was dead already.

The wind stopped. Thomas realized that he and every other person in the colony were now exposed to the Mars atmosphere. He tried to gasp for air, but there was none. His lungs were collapsed. Then Thomas felt the blood on his arm start to boil.

### Epilogue

" _What have you done? Listen! Your brother's blood cries out to me from the ground. Now you are cursed and driven from the land, which opened its mouth to receive your brother's blood from your hand. When you work the soil, it will no longer yield its crops for you. You will be a restless wanderer on the earth."_

\- God speaking to Cain, Genesis, Chapter 4.

Hestia, four months after its destruction

Day 13 of the Chinese salvage operation

"Welcome to Hestia, Major Zuo," said the head Chinese engineer. "How was your trip?"

"We followed the notes from your drivers, so that saved us from the backtracking that your team had to do. And my drivers now have some notes that can probably save even more time for the return trip. We could probably do it in seven days once we finish up here."

"Give my team back at the colony permission to take out the bulldozer and we can build a short-cut through one of the passes. We could get the drive down to five days," said the engineer.

"I don't think we'll ever be needing to do this journey again, but I can send that suggestion back to Beijing," replied Major Zuo. "I'll have my assistant do it. Where is she?"

"She's sleeping. She's been doing sixteen-hour days for the last twelve days."

"How is she performing?" asked the Major.

"I know I'm supposedly in charge pending your arrival," replied the engineer, "but it feels like she has a better understanding of the larger picture than I do."

"That means she's doing her job," said the Major. "Don't wake her up. I'll talk to her in the morning. I need to sleep as well."

"OK. Hestia is now yours. I'll show you to your sleeping quarters."

The next evening

"Yes, the count is finished," said the Major's assistant as she turned her screen to the Major to show a 3D map of the colony with the location of each body. "Every Hestian and Muslim is now accounted for. A dead body for every colonist on the list."

Major Zuo acknowledged the information. The news was not a surprise. Nobody had expected any survivors. The Chinese team had known that they were not on a rescue mission, and so did Europe. The European request was for the Chinese colony to assess the infrastructure of Hestia and to make what repairs they could.

Zuo knew from the beginning what the European request for _sanitization_ entailed, even if it was not clearly outlined. The last task before refilling the atmosphere would be the disposal of the bodies.

The Major looked up at his assistant and announced, "OK. Twenty of us and almost 4000 bodies. Thankfully the heating system went down and the airlocks stayed open, so we are dealing with frozen bodies. When we get the system back online, keep the temperature a few degrees below freezing. Our temporary sleeping quarters and command post can, of course, be at a normal temperature."

"OK, noted," confirmed Major Zuo's assistant as she filed the orders onto her tablet. "How much longer will we have to wear our suits?"

"Is that a question from another team member who is too scared to ask me?" asked Major Zuo with mild annoyance at the timidity of the civilians on the team.

"Yes, but also from me," replied the assistant. "The work would be so much easier if we focused on getting the atmosphere in here back to normal first. We can refill the atmosphere in the original colony as soon as the engineers get that part of the system back online. We could work in eighty percent of the colony without our suits. They said the repair of the internal airlocks is complete. They just need you to confirm that and give the order."

"I have no problem with that," said Major Zuo. "When the safety team and the head engineer say it's good, we can put aside our helmets, suits and breathing gear."

The assistant quickly logged the orders on her tablet.

"But what about the damage on the Muslim section airlocks?" asked the Major.

"The engineers say the external airlock at the back of the Muslim sector is damaged beyond repair, but the internal airlock that joins the original Hestia colony to the Muslim section is fine and ready to go. There is no damage."

"Then why did this airlock fail?"

"On one side of the airlock a body was stuck between the door and the frame. That allowed the entire colony to depressurize and lose atmosphere, not just the Muslim section."

"And the other internal airlocks throughout Hestia? Why didn't they automatically seal?" asked the Major.

"The engineers say that it was probably a cascading failure. The internal airlocks can't take the shock and pressure that the external airlocks can. The airlock that connected to the Muslim sector was stronger than the other internal doors and it could have protected the original colony. In fact, it used to be an external airlock before they built the new residential sector that the Muslims moved into. But, like I said, there was a trapped body that stopped it from closing."

"So why didn't they have the same standards for internal airlocks as for the external airlocks?" asked Zuo.

"That's already on the news in Europe. You didn't get updates during your trip?"

"We were too busy driving around obstacles and pulling our vehicles out of the sand," replied the Major. "I only read the daily updates from our colony, not Earth news."

"OK, well it seems that it was simply a cost saving measure. The external airlock units are quite heavy and they take up a lot of cargo space. So the Europeans only budgeted for the three original units. The Russian freight delivery cost for additional airlocks is enough to destroy most of their annual transport budget. So in the end, the internal airlocks were cheaper, lightweight units that they manufactured here."

"Cost cutting on safety on Mars," said Zuo as he shook his head in disbelief.

"They never intended that from the beginning, from what the news I've been reading says. Hestia was a high-risk colony without segmentation because the flights and the money were spent on transporting and accommodating the Muslims instead of transporting new airlocks and atmosphere generators. This was secretly a massive concern on the part of Europe."

"The extra airlocks and the segmentation of the colony should have been done a long time ago," said Major Zuo. "Why wasn't it done when they didn't have the extra financial burden of the Muslims?"

"Actually, the upgrade and reconstruction was scheduled long before they were expecting Muslims here. But those plans were discarded. Now I really appreciate that we have double and triple airlocks, and that we have eight different colony segments that all generate their own atmosphere and pressure."

"Like I said, why didn't Hestia do that at the very beginning?" asked the Major.

"Again, it was a cost issue. This turned out to be a budget colony. They had plans to expand and segment the colony, with each section being joined by strong airlocks and generating its own pressure and life support systems. Those plans were downsized after they went broke spending all their money on the war. Then the Spanish city of Seville fell to the Muslims. That's where the airlocks were being manufactured. After that, nobody was in the mood to make some factory in northern Europe take over that task when the war effort was paramount. So...they were forgotten. They had to make do with what they had."

"A war for survival _and_ a Mars colony program. That was a little overambitious."

But to be fair, every safety scenario was accounted for," said the assistant. "They just didn't consider sabotage."

"Does the European account that we were sent match the video surveillance?" asked Major Zuo.

"Yes. We watched the incident and listened to the audio. Well, as much as was recorded. It looks like the European version is correct—a saboteur destroyed the Muslim quarter's external airlock. We could see the damage, as well as a mining drill nearby."

"He thought he was only going to destroy the Muslim quarter?" asked Major Zuo.

"Yes, he was not an engineer, obviously. He clearly knew nothing about the strength of the internal airlocks. But, it's possible that if that person whose body we found jammed in the internal airlock didn't get caught by the closing door, then there would not have been a cascade of airlock failures."

"But the saboteur must have known that as soon as he broke through the airlock there was going to be a depressurization blast wave that would kill him, right?" asked Major Zuo.

"Actually, he wasn't killed by the decompression blast. It wasn't strong enough. He died when his oxygen ran out. But I don't think he cared."

"Why not?"

"We didn't find his body until a few days ago. He was almost two kilometers away. We checked the body and figured out his name. Leading up to the incident he was being mentioned in Hestia's communication system. The murder that happened earlier this year was apparently his lover. We found his body lying next to a grave with her name on it."

"The girl who had her throat cut by her own family?" asked the Major.

"Yes, that same one."

"OK, we'll pass on that information to Europe. But let's focus on structural issues. Have you watched other videos leading up to the incident?"

"Yes, just as Europe requested," said the assistant. "But there's too much. And we've been focusing on infrastructure issues, like you ordered. We did, however, look at some earlier recordings that were erased."

"Erased?"

"Yes, a few hours' worth of video from multiple positions, taken during a short period when their system went down last year."

"And?"

"The tech guy tells me that he easily recovered the video," said the assistant, "as it was erased but not overwritten. So it was sitting in a corner of their memory storage. He says it was from an old, unused exterior camera system that starts up automatically if there is any disruption to the newer camera system. Basically, it should turn on during system malfunctions and show the exterior of the colony, probably in order to assess damage after any sort of incident. Our guy found it when looking through the external camera videos to see if there was any sign of structural problems."

"And what does it show?"

"A murder. But from a much earlier time."

"So, the reporter's murder?" said the Major.

"Yes. Same date, same time."

"A quick summary?"

"A group of three men left the biologist section of the greenhouse facility. One went in the direction of the command center while a second man from the same group went into a utility hallway. Very soon after this the main surveillance system went down. The external camera recording shows a third man going out the airlock near the greenhouse and into an emergency lava tube exit. Twenty minutes later, the second man who went into the utility hallway reemerges from the airlock at the back of the Muslim quarter with the reporter. They walk into the lava tube together. There is no video from inside the lava tube. Thirty minutes later the two men, minus the reporter, come out of the emergency lava tube exit and return to the greenhouse."

"And the identity of the killers?"

"Biologists, I assume, based on where they came from. But we couldn't know the names without spending days going through their work assignment records, and we wouldn't even know where to start. We do, however, know the identity of the man who went through the airlocks with the reporter, but he wasn't a biologist."

"Who was he?" asked the Major.

"He was that passenger who arrived alone on a freight shipment drop."

"I don't remember anything about that. But a solo arrival is odd. What info do you have on him?"

"I looked up his file and read his contract," said the assistant. "He was a consultant hired to do community relations and conflict management."

"He had an interesting technique," said Zuo. "Did you find anything else worth mentioning?"

"No, I couldn't figure out anything by looking at the rest of his file. So I went back to focusing on other chores."

"Of course," said Zuo. "We're not detectives. For now, copy all the video and audio and we'll take it back with us after we upload it to the European satellite."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, back to the most pressing issue. Disposal of bodies. Europe has asked us to decide the best course of action based on our resources and abilities. Can we do cremation in the facilities here?"

"We can't burn them," said the assistant. "There's not enough fuel or oxygen on hand."

"How about their organic recyclers?"

"Too slow and too small," replied the assistant. "They are meant for food waste and human excrement, plus small things like dead plants. Not several thousand bodies. It would take forever. And also, how would the Europeans feel if we put the bodies in what some consider to be a toilet?"

"Good point. I would feel better if we could bury these people, but digging by hand would be too much work for this small of a crew," said the major. "But maybe we could just take them outside and leave them on the surface?"

"And the sight of thousands of undecomposed bodies lying around to be viewed for an undetermined period of time?" said the assistant. "One of the satellites will have that photo back to Earth in no time at all."

"Maybe drop them down an old lava tube? It's like a burial, but..."

"This would be seen as disrespectful?"

"Yes, better than the organic recycler, but not by very much," replied Zuo. "Beijing would not be happy trying to explain to the Europeans that we threw their people down a hole. But, whatever we do, we need to get them out of here if this place is to be habitable again."

"If I may make a suggestion?"

"Of course," said the Major. "That's part of your job description."

"We could seal off a section of the greenhouse where they do their soil experiments, refill the atmosphere and turn up the heat. It's bigger than the rest of the colony facilities combined. Let the bodies decompose on the topsoil there, or rather in a very shallow grave. We have plenty of insects and bacteria to spare that can speed up that process. I could get them shuttled here by drone within a day. They will multiply and breed quickly."

"And what will the Europeans think about this?" asked the Major.

"Shallow burials and rapid decomposition have become popular in some parts of Europe. They call them _green burials_. No tombstones or markers, just nature decomposing and absorbing the body."

"You've been doing some research already?"

"Yes, on the way here," said the assistant.

"OK, let's go with green burials."

"But we may still have some unhappy people back on Earth. The only acceptable type of burial for Muslims is..."

"The green burials are only for the Hestians," said Zuo. "For the Muslims we already have some special instructions from Beijing."

"Why?"

"It's a goodwill gesture to the Muslims by our government. They are seeking to upgrade their military, and the Americans and Russians haven't sold them equipment or replacement parts for well over a decade. That's where we come in. Beijing will be lifting its arms embargo. We are now happy to sell them weapons. So it seems Beijing wants to make some small gesture here on Mars to our new customers."

"What's the gesture?"

"Proper Muslim burials," replied the Major.

"Where? And how?"

"That's your job."

"Well, there's a flat sandy area up the hill from the colony near a lava tube utility elevator. And the elevator starts inside the lava tube next to the destroyed airlock in the Muslim section."

"OK, that sounds like the place," said Major Zuo. "I have a basic description from Beijing for what this entails. Individual graves, dug by hand with a shovel. By each grave we should place a large flat rock in place of a grave stone."

"That's a lot of work," said the assistant. "We can't possibly do that right now. Moving a single body out of the colony, into the elevator, across the terrain, and then digging a grave and finding a nice stone..."

"I will request that the construction battalion be tasked with that. They can be summoned here once we work out a few more things. For now we leave the Muslims in cold storage."

"And the Muslims that live in the original Hestia colony?" asked the assistant. "Plus the Muslims who fled into Hestia during their evacuation attempt?"

"Can we easily find out the names of the colonists? Do they carry ID?"

"No. But they all carry around a phone in their pockets. They are all the same model and same color, so they are issued with their owner's name engraved on the back."

"Great. That simplifies it," said Major Zuo. "When you find a body with a Muslim name you can throw them into cold storage in the Muslim sector of the colony. And if you can't get an exact identification on a body, then just make your best guess."

"Of course," replied the assistant as she logged more orders on her tablet.

"Alright, you're dismissed. You can get back to work," said Zuo. "Tell the engineers to go ahead and refill the atmosphere."

Several hours later Major Zuo sat in the command center and took off his helmet. His head engineer sat down at the table across from him and asked, "Are we done for the day?"

"Yes. Definitely."

"Do our colony's off-duty rules apply here?"

"It depends," said the Major. "What are you wanting to do?"

The engineer placed a large plastic sealed container on the table.

"I put it on a heating vent this morning," said the engineer. "It's been thawing out all day."

"What does that label say?" asked Zuo. "I can read it, but I don't understand it."

"It reads _4-parts berry juice mix, 1-part distilled spirits_."

"That's the same percentage as wine, right?"

"Yeah, about the same. It's not possible to get really drunk from wine. But no harm in trying," said the engineer with a smile as he placed two ready cups on the table.

"Why not? The sun is setting," said the Major as he gestured towards the command center's windows.

The engineer poured a full cup for the Major.

"So, what are your thoughts on salvaging here, aside from looting their alcohol stores?" asked Zuo.

"For salvage work, I know the Europeans said we could take whatever we needed or wanted as long as we preserve the basic infrastructure. I suppose the next group of colonists will arrive with far better equipment than what is in use here. But really, not a single thing in here is useful. No tool we don't have. No process or technology we don't know about and have a better version of in our colony. Fifty percent of their equipment is Chinese-manufactured. They really did share everything they had. It's a little disappointing. I was hoping we would find something... Maybe their data will have something interesting that we haven't seen."

"We've already seen their data," said the Major.

"But maybe they were holding back some of their projects from the research data exchange?"

"No. They uploaded and shared everything. And we were able to look around in their systems without them knowing it. They weren't holding anything back."

"Uh-huh," said the engineer, realizing that there was still plenty of information that the military side of the colony was not sharing with the rest.

Major Zuo then looked up at the ceiling where he could see how the pressure blast had peeled away the insulation layers, leaving bare the final reinforced pressure sealant layer.

"I can't believe how quickly things here got out of control," remarked the engineer.

"What do you expect? They were so naïve to have engineers and scientists as leadership, especially considering how inappropriate the new arrivals were."

"Well, I imagine we wouldn't do much better if almost 1000 Muslims arrived in our colony," replied the engineer, ignoring the military man's slight against his profession.

"You know," began Zuo. "I'm older than you, and I can remember the old China. When I was a child, China still had Muslims. One in fifty in China were Muslims, actually."

"Did they emigrate?"

"You really are an engineer! If you had taken any politics or history classes at university you would know that we sent them all to education centers to make them Chinese. Now they are Chinese, and you have probably met their children and grandchildren and you didn't even know that once they were not Chinese. They speak Chinese only, they are atheists, and their first loyalty is to China."

"Oh yeah, I think I remember spending about one or two minutes on that topic in school," said the engineer.

"And if you believe that, then you are exactly the type of citizen that our government wants!" laughed Zuo as the alcohol started to hit.

The engineer laughed nervously.

"When we came to Mars," continued Major Zuo, "we came completely united. One people with one goal. Isn't that what we like to say? These people came as an undisciplined group with very different ideas and incompatible goals, with every European country demanding this and that. With every person thinking that they could do things their own way. And that was even before the Muslims got here. But you know, I think that they could still have overcome their problems if they had different leadership. If they had drawn leaders who had experience in the military, government or business, then this wouldn't have happened. A place like this needs decisive leadership, not an arguing mob that wants to vote on everything."

"Like our colony, sure," said the engineer.

"Yes. Our colony, where our engineers are too afraid to express their opinions to the political officers, even if it's related to a technical issue that is the engineer's specialty. I wouldn't be surprised if there was some deadly infrastructure defect in our colony that the engineers are too scared to bring up."

"Well, we were screened for political loyalty," said the engineer.

"A little too strictly, unfortunately."

"Do you think their next attempt at a colony will follow our model?" asked the engineer, as he hoped to steer Major Zuo away from criticizing the Chinese colony.

"There won't been another European attempt anytime soon."

"Why not?" said the engineer. "Once we repair Hestia, they could arrive within a year to start over with a new group of colonists."

"Well, the problem with that, from the European perspective, is that they would still be bound by the terms of the peace agreement with the Muslims. Almost half of the new colonists would have to be Muslims. If it was hard to manage them as newcomers and as a minority, imagine how difficult things would be if they arrive at the same time in equal numbers."

"But maybe they..."

"There is no maybe," said the Major. "Beijing has already informed me that the Europeans have decided to abandon their plans for Mars entirely. For them, interplanetary space travel and Mars colonies are somewhat of a luxury at the moment. Their war with the Muslims may restart any day now."

"Then why the urgency for us to secure and repair Hestia?"

"Because it's for sale," said the Major.

"We don't need this old..."

"We are not the buyers. The infrastructure reports we are sending are going not just to the Europeans, but also to the Russians and the Americans."

"Oh?"

"Yes, more information that I haven't shared with you," said Major Zuo. "But you need to know now. It seems that the Russians and Americans secretly reignited their interest in Mars the day after it was announced that Muslims were coming here."

"How? The American program is long dead, and the Russians can't afford it."

"Yes. It would take forever for the Americans to rebuild their space program beyond their low Earth orbit military capabilities. And the Russians don't have the money, just the expertise and the tools to provide commercial deliveries to Mars. But together, they can get here quite quickly. Supposedly they are still working out the details, but as it stands the basic agreement is for American private interests to pay the bills and the Russians to give them all a ride here. They will share a temporary colony here at Hestia, probably for at least a decade, and then build two separate colonies in their own sectors."

"Here on the Tharsis Plateau?" asked the engineer.

"Here. They also want to build next to the old volcanoes. It's a safe, proven model."

"And you said American private interests will pay? What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means that it will be partially an American corporate venture," said the Major.

"Well, corporate or government, I'm guessing that the Americans and the Russians will take this little incident into account when they arrive."

"Yes, this will serve as a model of what not to do."

"Do you think the Muslims might want to come back in the future?" asked the engineer.

"Well, the Muslims have the money to come to Mars on their own. They just need to pay the Russians for the trip and the cargo. A colony facility can be built without any secret technology. It's basic, as you know. But they won't invest in this. They can only think to wait for others to do all the work. Their era of science and exploration has passed long ago."

The engineer once again nodded in agreement.

After a pause in the conversation, the engineer asked, "So why are we so enthusiastic to help out the Russians and the Americans?"

"Two main reasons. The first is that India made some inquiries with the Europeans about purchasing or leasing the entire facility. It's our long-term strategic goal for us to deny India access to Mars and beyond. Same goes for Japan. So the terms of our charitable salvage operation are that India and Japan may never use Hestia."

"So why does Beijing not just deny Mars to everyone?" asked the engineer. "Russia or America could one day again be our rivals."

"Well, we have a treaty to share Mars. Plus, at the moment, Beijing feels like Mars is a burden. And it is expected to be a burden for decades to come, maybe even a century. But if that burden is shared by Europe, Russia and America, and maybe even by other friendly countries in the future, then we can start actually getting benefits from our presence here. There are plenty of resources on Mars to go around for everybody. We project no inter-colony problems in the short to medium-term. Only intra-colony problems...the worst-case scenario of which we are looking at right now."

"Sure," replied the engineer. "But what burden would they help with on Mars, aside from an eventual shared terraforming of the atmosphere? And that goal is likely insurmountable in this century and well beyond."

"The plans for our space elevator were pushed back by decades. Maybe even a century. It's now a vague future consideration. They keep saying that it is far too expensive with today's technology, of course. And why would Beijing fund a space elevator on Mars when we are still a decade away from starting construction on even just a low-capacity elevator on Earth? We were sent here to prove that China could match the Europeans with our own colony. But now that we are established here, there is less enthusiasm back home. People don't understand that we now have centuries of hard work ahead of us. They only understand great drama and glorious achievements of short-term goals."

"So you think we will never get the budget for a space elevator or for a real terraforming project?" asked the engineer.

"As it stands now, no. We couldn't even start with the magnetosphere shielding array. And that would be cheap by comparison. But what if we had partners here to share the cost?"

"I would be skeptical of the ability of the Americans and Russians to commit to a long-term goal."

"They've stuck to certain long-term and expensive projects in the past, especially if you can stoke their competitive spirit," replied Major Zuo.

"But America and Russia are declining regional powers who can't see further than the next election cycle," said the engineer. "Even this new Mars plan may be an election stunt on their part."

"Perhaps we are too cynical. It may be that a project like this will inspire them to renew their energies and dedication to colonizing the solar system. And then that pushes our leaders in Beijing to out-do them and stay one step ahead. Their successes will result in our leaders assigning us more resources and support for our terraforming goals."

"Perhaps," replied the engineer as he looked sadly at the empty plastic jug of berry alcohol. "But we won't live to see a green Mars in our lifetime. Unless, of course, you count that graveyard that we will be creating in the greenhouse. I saw the work order from your assistant."

"The greenhouse burials are for the Europeans only. Beijing has forwarded a request to build a separate graveyard on the surface for the Muslims."

"Really? That's going to be a lot of extra work," said the engineer.

"Yes, I know. That's why I submitted a request for the construction battalion."

"And the Muslim bodies from the lander crash?" asked the engineer. "Recovering bodies over an eighty-kilometer-long debris field is not possible. It wasn't possible for Hestia, and it's not possible for us."

"I know, they stay where they lie," said Major Zuo. "They can have all of Mars for their graveyard."

Major Zuo pushed his empty cup aside and turned his thoughts back to the more immediate problems at hand. He looked toward the windows at the front of the command center. Mars was now dark.

###

Previous novels by Christian Hale

The Cynical Expat's Guide to Provoking

Street Revolutions in Central Asia

(2018)

Department of Student Loans

Kidnap & Ransom

(2015)

Follow me on Twitter: twitter.com/ChristianHale84

