Divided Earth, Fractured Mars: Why Cooperation Was Forbidden on the Red Planet

— a worldbuilding post from the author of The Mars Chronicles

“They told us to stay apart. We didn’t.”

By the early 2090s, Earth had become a planet defined by fracture.

What began as slow geopolitical drift had escalated into a cold war of blocs: the United States, the European Union, and a re-imagined Chinese Empire stood at the helm of increasingly militarized alliances. Scarred by a century of climate collapse, civil unrest, and mass migrations—especially from the Global South—these powers didn’t just withdraw behind borders. They moved in.

Under the banner of the United Nations, “Special Administrative Zones” were created across the South. Officially humanitarian, unofficially colonial, these zones placed entire regions under direct foreign control: Latin America under the United States, Africa and the Middle East under the EU, and all of Asia—including India and Japan—under a Chinese Empire that had never been Communist, but had always been imperial (in the fictitious world of this book).

It was order through occupation. Survival through extraction. And that mindset, that cold calculus of resource control and distrust, followed humanity all the way to Mars.

The Settlements: Four Dots on a Dying Planet

Thirty years after the first successful Mars landing, only four permanent settlements exist:

• Asteria Habitat, the European Union’s shining contribution to Martian colonization, was born in a burst of optimism. Thirty years ago, headlines spoke of a new world—our second planet—and the EU responded with grandeur. Asteria wasn’t just a habitat. It was the beginning of a dream: one outpost would become a village, then a city, then a sovereign nation under the stars. In a bold symbolic move, the EU granted Asteria full member-state status almost immediately, despite the fact that its initial population—mostly miners, engineers, and support staff—numbered barely 200.

  
  

  But the dream proved fragile. The Martian environment was harsher than anticipated, and within a few years, public enthusiasm and investor confidence had faded. What remained was not the launchpad of a civilization, but a beautifully engineered survival machine. Asteria endured by reinventing itself: it became the recreational and entertainment center of Mars, hosting the red planet’s only resort dome, a hub for long-stay researchers, experimental tech startups, and the semi-regular waves of wealthy Earth tourists willing to spend two years for the most expensive vacation of their lives. The dream of mass colonization hasn’t died—but for now, Asteria is something else: a curiously glamorous relic of a future that never fully arrived.

  
  

• Tianyuan, a heavily fortified settlement under direct control of the Chinese imperial state, was built to host 10,000 colonists—but as of now, fewer than 600 residents live there, preparing the city for the mass migration that hasn’t yet begun. Unlike the impulsive, utopian starts of other Martian projects, Tianyuan was the product of long-term imperial planning. The state didn’t rush. It understood that no technology—no matter how advanced—could instantly tame the harsh realities of Mars.

  
  

  Instead, they approached the planet like they had approached history: slowly, methodically, with absolute conviction. Every dome, reactor, greenhouse, and transit system was built with the final vision in mind—a self-sufficient metropolis, not a survival outpost. For thirty years, their engineers and soldiers worked in near-isolation, resisting the pressure to populate prematurely. Now, for the first time, Tianyuan stands ready. The physical infrastructure is in place. The support systems are stable. The first wave of 10,000 settlers is expected to arrive soon, launching what could become Mars’s first functioning city. Whether it will be welcomed—or feared—by the rest of the settlements remains an open question.

  
  

• Vostok, the oldest of all Martian settlements, was once a symbol of ambition. Established under the Russian state space program decades before its rivals, it led the way in proving that long-term survival on Mars was possible. But being first came at a cost: Vostok still relies on the earliest generation of infrastructure and life-support technology, much of it long past its intended operational lifespan.

  
  

  Its fate, however, was sealed not by engineering failure but by geopolitical collapse. In the fictional world of The Mars Chronicles, Russia—as a functioning state—no longer exists. Ravaged by prolonged wars and international conflict, it has contracted to its European core, where it eventually lost even its northern ports to the European Union. Meanwhile, Siberia was absorbed into the Chinese Empire. What remains of Russia is fragmented—a loose network of warlords with no centralized authority, no functioning space agency, and no means to support distant colonies.

  
  

  For the crew of Vostok, that meant one thing: they were on their own. Supplies dwindled. Communications faded. And yet, they held on. Veterans, miners, engineers—they did what humans have always done: survive, adapt, improvise. But with aging systems and no real help from Earth, it was only a matter of time before the station faltered. The opening scene of The Mars Chronicles captures that very moment: a storm, a failure, and the desperate signals of a forgotten outpost on the brink of death.

  
  

• Minos, the only privately operated settlement on Mars, is a corporate outpost in every sense of the word. Built and managed by the Minos Corporation with American backing, its mission is singular: profit. Unlike the state-sponsored dreams of colonization, Minos was never meant to grow into a city. It was designed as a fully industrial facility, specializing in the extraction of rare earth elements and high-value minerals beneath the Martian crust.

  
  

  There are no families in Minos. No children. Only contract workers—technicians, engineers, operators—who arrive for two to four-year stints, then either extend their contracts or return to Earth. The infrastructure supports work, not life. Housing is functional. Recreation is limited. Efficiency governs everything.

  
  

  While operations remain modestly profitable, the bigger picture has shifted. As the global powers turned their attention to the far more accessible resources of the newly subjugated Global South, Minos Corporation found itself increasingly drawn to terrestrial investments. Why gamble on Mars when Earth’s southern continents—brought under control through so-called “Special Administrative Zones”—now offer far cheaper extraction and faster returns? Minos was once a flagship of Martian industry. Now, it’s a footnote on the corporate ledger, quietly grinding away in a world the parent company no longer prioritizes.

  
  

Officially, no nation owns land on Mars. A treaty from the 2070s forbids territorial claims.

Unofficially? Mars is the new frontier. And on this frontier, everyone guards their claims like feudal barons—because what little they have is already almost too much to hold.

Cooperation Is Forbidden

There is no trade between settlements.There are no shared projects.There is no trust.

Orders from Earth are clear: no contact, no aid, no joint ventures. What begins with bureaucracy ends in fear. The Martian frontier has been wired shut from above—not just to prevent espionage or economic leakage, but to stop the spread of violence. Everyone remembers the chaos back home. No one wants it here.

And yet… the Mars settlers don’t see each other the way Earth authorities do.

There is, in fact, one sanctioned exception: recreation.The Asteria Habitat, with its domed gardens, spa suites, entertainment halls, and simulated Earth environments, was granted special status. Workers from all settlements—regardless of national allegiance—are permitted to spend their leave there. The reason is simple: it’s vastly cheaper and logistically easier than flying exhausted personnel back to Earth, or building parallel leisure infrastructure in hostile terrain. Asteria became Mars’s pressure valve—the one officially tolerated window of interaction.

And through that window, something started to grow.

Life on Mars Is Something Else Entirely

They joke about it on their closed-loop, Mars-only social networks—encrypted backchannels that Earth’s internet can’t reach. There, settlers from different bases exchange stories, advice, memes about duct-taped helmets and busted recyclers. They swap gossip, barter small goods, and tell newcomers what to expect during their first breakdown.

To them, the flags don’t matter. The ideologies don’t matter. Only survival does.

They vacation at the Asteria Habitat, drink together, fall in and out of love under artificial skies. They form relationships in the shadows of laws designed to keep them apart.

And sometimes, a rover goes farther than it should. Sometimes, help arrives without a signature. Sometimes, the silence is broken.

But Then Came the Storm

Vostok was failing. Everyone knew it. But when the storm came—thick with static and dust and silence—and the emergency signals went out, what followed was something no one expected. The rules were clear. Contact is forbidden.

But if no one breaks the rules…they die.

What happens next is the beginning of Icarus, the first book of The Mars Chronicles.

Disclaimer from the Author:

This is a work of science fiction. The nations, histories, and geopolitical scenarios in this story are fictional projections—imagined futures, not predictions or endorsements. The portrayal of a non-Communist Chinese Empire, the breakdown of international norms, and the Mars settlements themselves serve as narrative devices to explore the fragility of human cooperation—and the strength we still find in each other.

The Mars Chronicles is not a political statement. It is a human story.

🚀 The Mars Chronicles: Book I – Icarus launches soon—within the next month.

In the meantime, you can start exploring the story today.📖 The first chapters are already available to read at:

👉 www.themarschronicles.com/blog/categories/book

Welcome to Mars. Nothing here is simple. Not even survival.