Safety First

The corridor outside Assembly Hall A was a river of voices and movement. William, Maya, and Vanessa were swept along by the current of students, all buzzing with the aftershocks of Dr. Wo’s presentation. The air was thick with speculation and half-formed theories.

“Three centuries,” Vanessa muttered, shaking her head. “I’ll be lucky if my student loans are paid off by then.”

Maya shot her a look. “You don’t actually have loans, do you?”

Vanessa grinned. “No, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

They emerged into a broad mezzanine overlooking the Spire’s terraced gardens. Sunlight—simulated, but convincing—filtered down through the transparent ceiling, illuminating a riot of green. Students clustered in small groups, some already deep in debate, others simply gawking at the view.

Bryce Thompson bounded over, his ever-present smile in place. “Did you see the look on Shaw’s face when Red Faction started heckling? Priceless.”

Micah Roberts joined them, hands in his pockets, radiating easy confidence. “That’s politics, Bryce. You rile up the crowd, you get noticed. Lena Markovic just made herself the most popular scientist in the room.”

William glanced around, taking in the mix of faces—some familiar, some new. A tall, quiet student with dark hair and a nervous energy hovered at the edge of their group. Vanessa noticed him and raised an eyebrow. “You lost, or just eavesdropping?”

He flushed. “Sorry. I’m Amir. Amir Sharma. Biochem track.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m just trying to figure out where I fit in.”

Maya offered a reassuring smile. “You and everyone else. I’m Maya, this is William, Vanessa, Bryce, and Micah.”

A petite girl with a shock of blue hair and a mischievous grin sidled up. “Don’t let them scare you, Amir. I’m Priya. Robotics. If you want to survive here, stick with the nerds—they’re the only ones who know how to fix the coffee machines.”

Bryce laughed. “That’s the most important system on Mars, hands down.”

The group drifted toward the garden’s edge, where a shallow stream burbled over polished stones—part of the Spire’s water reclamation system, William realized. The air was cool and faintly metallic, tinged with the scent of wet earth and hydroponic nutrients. He watched droplets condense on the leaves of a genetically modified fern, then trickle down into the channel below.

Micah leaned in, lowering his voice. “So, what do you think? Red Faction’s plan—reckless, or visionary?”

Maya’s eyes flashed. “It’s tempting, but the risks are real. If we destabilize the ecosystem, we could lose everything. Mars isn’t going to bend to our will just because we’re impatient.”

Vanessa snorted. “Tell that to the Council. They’re more worried about Earth’s reaction than Mars’ reality.”

Priya chimed in, “Some of the older students say the real breakthroughs will come from hybrid tech—Earth ideas, Martian improvisation. The old guard just doesn’t want to admit it.”

William found himself nodding. “Maybe the answer isn’t one or the other. Maybe it’s both. We need Earth’s experience, but we have to adapt—think like Martians.”

Amir looked thoughtful. “That’s what Dr. Wo said, right? Integration, not imitation.”

William turned to Priya, curiosity piqued. “So, robotics—what’s it like here? I mean, I know the basics, but I’ve never seen anything like the maintenance bots in the Spire.”

Priya’s grin widened. “You haven’t seen anything yet. The colony runs on more bots than people realize—maintenance, agriculture, mining, even some of the terraforming experiments. Most of the old models are patched together from Earth tech, but the new stuff? Pure Martian improvisation. We’re not just fixing things—we’re inventing as we go.”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, you’ve already hacked half the bots in your sector?”

Priya winked. “Only the ones that needed an upgrade. Or a personality.”

William’s mind raced ahead, imagining the possibilities. “If we could automate more of the dangerous work—mining, surface construction, even water extraction—it could change everything. Free up people for research, reduce accidents, maybe even speed up terraforming.”

Priya nodded, her eyes alight. “That’s what I want to learn about. Some of the upperclassmen talk about swarm robotics for surface deployment—tiny bots that can work together to build, repair, even monitor the environment. I’m hoping I’ll get to see some of that in action, maybe even help out eventually. The Council’s slow to approve anything that isn’t ‘proven safe,’ but out here, necessity is the mother of invention.”

Maya looked intrigued. “Swarm robotics could help with biological integration too—dispersing microbes, monitoring soil, even adapting to new threats.”

Bryce let out a low whistle. “Sounds like the start of a robot revolution.”

William smiled, feeling a spark of inspiration. “Maybe that’s what Mars needs—a little revolution. Not just in politics, but in how we solve problems.”

For a moment, the group fell silent, each of them contemplating the future—one that might be shaped as much by machines as by the people who built them.

A chime sounded overhead, followed by a calm announcement: “All student-astronauts, please return to Assembly Hall A. Security orientation will begin in five minutes.”

Vanessa groaned. “Here comes the fun part—rules, protocols, and at least three warnings about venturing into unauthorized tunnels.”

Bryce grinned. “Bet Volkov’s got a slideshow of all the ways Mars can kill you.”

They joined the flow of students streaming back toward the hall. The atmosphere had shifted—conversation quieter, anticipation tinged with nerves. William noticed the older colonists giving them a wide berth, as if the security briefing was a rite of passage best endured by the uninitiated.

Inside, the lights dimmed as Commander Alexei Volkov took the stage. His presence was unmistakable: tall, broad-shouldered, with a face carved by years of command and a left hand gloved in black synth-leather. His uniform was immaculate, every line crisp, every insignia gleaming.

He surveyed the room with a soldier’s patience, letting the silence settle before he spoke. “Welcome to Mars. I am Commander Volkov, chief of Security Forces for Cydonia Settlement. My job is simple: keep you alive, and keep this colony from tearing itself apart.”

A faint ripple of uneasy laughter passed through the students.

Volkov’s gaze was unblinking. “Mars is not Earth. Here, a single mistake can cost lives—yours, or someone else’s. Security is not just about rules. It is about survival. You will learn the protocols for emergencies: decompression, fire, toxic leaks, and—yes—human conflict. You will learn how to recognize danger before it finds you.”

He tapped a control, and the screens behind him flickered to images of the colony’s layered security systems: biometric checkpoints, atmospheric monitors, armored bulkheads. “Cydonia is protected by multiple redundancies. But systems fail. People make mistakes. Sometimes, people make choices that threaten us all.”

His eyes lingered on the crowd, as if weighing each student. “You will hear about factions—about politics, about power. My concern is order. If you see something suspicious, report it. If you are unsure, ask. If you are in danger, follow instructions. There are no heroes in a vacuum breach.”

He paused, his expression hardening. “Five years ago, I lost a friend in the Phobos Mining Disaster. He was a good man—smart, careful, but he trusted the wrong person. One shortcut, one unauthorized patch to a pressure seal, and the whole section vented to vacuum. I still remember the sound of the alarms, the way the air tasted—thin, metallic, full of panic. On Mars, there are no second chances. I will not let that happen again.”

A schematic of the colony appeared, highlighting evacuation routes and emergency shelters. Volkov’s voice was steady, almost cold. “You will memorize these routes. Drills are mandatory. Noncompliance is not tolerated. If you think the rules are excessive, remember: Mars does not forgive carelessness.”

He let the silence linger, then continued, his voice even colder. “You will see the protocols for every major threat: fire, atmospheric breach, chemical spill, radiation leak, and—yes—sabotage. Mars is a closed system. There is nowhere to run. If you hear an alarm, you do not hesitate. You do not play hero. You follow the nearest evacuation route and assist those who cannot move themselves. If you are responsible for another’s death through negligence, you will answer to me—and to the Council.”

The screens cycled through emergency procedures: color-coded alarms, airlock operations, the location of emergency masks and shelters. Volkov’s tone was relentless, drilling the information into them.

“Every corridor, every compartment, every public space is monitored for atmospheric integrity. If you see a warning light—yellow, orange, red—you report it. If you hear a triple chime, you seal the nearest bulkhead. If you are in a tunnel and the lights turn blue, you move to the nearest shelter immediately. These are not drills. These are survival.”

He paused, then keyed up a schematic of the Spire. “The Spire is the heart of Cydonia. It is also the most vulnerable target. Security Forces maintain a constant presence on levels 1, 17, and 40. You will see patrols. You will see checkpoints. Do not attempt to bypass them. If you are stopped, comply. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.”

A new slide: a map of faction territories, color-coded and overlaid with security perimeters. “You have already heard about factions. Some are political. Some are criminal. The Syndicate operates in the shadows. The Red Faction agitates for independence. The Consortium guards its assets with private security. The Mars Intelligence Service is everywhere and nowhere. You are not to involve yourselves in disputes between factions. If you are approached, report it. If you are threatened, report it. If you are offered money, favors, or access in exchange for information or services—report it.”

He fixed the students with a hard stare. “You are valuable. That makes you a target. Some will try to recruit you. Some will try to use you. Some will try to destroy you. Your best defense is vigilance and loyalty to the colony as a whole—not to any single faction.”

Volkov’s voice softened, almost imperceptibly. “I have seen what happens when order breaks down. I have buried friends because someone thought they were above the rules. I will not do it again.”

William felt a chill settle in his chest. The images on the screen were stark, but it was Volkov’s voice—flat, unyielding—that drove the message home. He glanced at Maya, who looked troubled, and Vanessa, whose sarcasm had faded. For the first time, William understood just how thin the line was between order and chaos here. He wondered, uneasily, if he’d be able to spot danger before it found him—or if, one day, he’d be forced to choose between following orders and following his conscience.

He moved on to practical matters: “You will carry your ID badge at all times. It is your access, your identification, and your emergency locator. If you lose it, report immediately. If you find a badge, turn it in. Do not attempt to access restricted areas. Do not tamper with security systems. Do not share your credentials. These are not suggestions.”

He tapped the screen again, displaying a list of emergency contacts and the Security Forces’ 24-hour hotline. “If you are in trouble, call for help. If you see something suspicious, say something. If you are unsure, ask. There is no shame in caution. There is only shame in preventable tragedy.”

He finished with a final, chilling reminder. “Mars is not your enemy. Mars is indifferent. But people—people can be dangerous. Trust, but verify. Help your fellow colonists, but do not be naïve. The price of freedom here is constant vigilance.”

As the lights brightened and Volkov stepped away, Bryce leaned over and whispered, “Guess it’s true—out here, you’re only as safe as the choices you make.”