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more formidable, Kenji had explained, but by no means invincible. Justin’s spies in the corporate core had confirmed Kenji’s suppositions and had informed the President that the corporate core had at least twenty true warships in ser vice, with more on the way.
    And that was why Justin had decided to attack.
    Though it was still referred to as the Red Planet, little of the iron oxide that had caused the planet to rust and, ergo, appear red remained. Instead, what Justin looked down upon was a planet that in many respects resembled Earth, Mars’s far bluer cousin orbiting roughly fifty million miles away. Earth was bluer by virtue of having more water, but Mars was greener. Much greener.
    The Mars Justin remembered from his first life had not only appeared bright red in the night sky but, according to the data at the time, had also had an average surface temperature of minus 81 degrees Fahrenheit, with extremes that ranged from a balmy 75 to minus 100. But this new Mars had no such extremes. One could walk freely, albeit a little more lightly, on the planet’s surface by virtue of its 0.38 Earth gravity. The planet’s day was twenty-four hours, thirty-seven minutes; its axial tilt allowed it to enjoy seasons; and the amount of sunlight that reached Mars, less than half that of Earth, was sufficient for photo-synthesis.
    Mission one had been to make the thin Martian atmosphere more robust. To do that the early colonists had to first rebuild the atmosphere and then heat it. Here nanotechnology came to the fore. Trillions of microscopic machinesswarmed the planet, freed up the permafrost layer, liberated the oxygen molecules from the rocks and dirt, prepared the soil for biologicals and plant life, and released CFCs into the atmosphere, creating a green house effect. The plants then did their duty by releasing copious amounts of oxygen into the emerging atmosphere until a more Earth-like equilibrium had been reached—all within seventy-five years.
    Though everyone in the O.A. preferred to dig in rather than build out, Justin, like his Terran cousins he was now coming to attack, still harbored dreams of creating other Earth-like planets somewhere out in the belt. It was impractical to be sure. The vibrant, productive, and fast-growing belt community had proved the folly of waiting for terraformation. Why wait seventy-five years for a verdant planet when a reasonable alternative could be created in ten? Sure, there’d be no sky to look up to and centrifugal gravity to deal with, but those were small considerations when the possibility of exploiting and enriching oneself from the innards of an asteroid came into play.
    Surprise had been easy to achieve. It helped that the asteroid belt essentially began at the orbit of Mars. The original plan offered up by his naval command had been to simply circle the planet a few times, show the O.A. flag, and leave. But Justin wanted a greater triumph. He was going to capture a borough, or something suitably large, and then hold it for as long as possible. Shortly thereafter he would stage the greatest rescue in the history of the human race.
    “Sir,” said a bright young ensign, “the landing party has reported. All resistance on the northern plateau has ended.” Justin turned around and realized that the information had not been directed at him but rather to the new acting Admiral of the O.A. fleet. Admiral Sinclair turned to Justin. “Mr. President, if you still insist on going down to the surface, now is as good a time as any. However, I must once again caution you against it.”
    A half smile parted Justin’s lips. “Admiral, we’ve been through this. I thank you for your concern. But revolutions get led from the front. Let the politicians and corporate executives stay on Earth and send others to do their dirty work. In the Outer Alliance everyone fights, everyone takes risks.
Especially
your President.”
    “But sir,” said the young ensign standing next to Sinclair,