9 - Echoes in the Pentagon

You are reading Scene 9 of Icarus, a novel unfolding within The Mars Chronicles—an epic story of the first human settlements on Mars.

While engineers risk their lives in the Martian dust, the fate of their work is being shaped far from the canyons—under soft spring light, in the polished silence of Earth’s most powerful corridors.

In this scene, board member Warrick Hargrove brings a bold proposal to the Pentagon: a corporate-backed intervention to protect American interests on Mars. He expects ambition to be rewarded.

But the answer he gets isn’t what he planned. And what’s left unspoken may echo longer than what’s said.

---

“As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.” — William Shakespeare, King Lear

The soft spring sunlight shimmered across the surface of the Potomac as Warrick Hargrove stepped out of the maglev taxi onto the wide plaza that once fronted a single five-sided building—now the entryway to the Pentagon’s expanded, multi-wing complex. Futuristic additions of glass and steel towered behind the original facade, while autonomous security drones patrolled the outer perimeter. Metal detectors—seamlessly embedded into the structure—glowed faintly as they silently scanned every entrant.

Warrick wore a dark, tailored suit that projected boardroom confidence more than military rigidity. At the main entrance, he offered a friendly nod to the guards, his face set in the same easy, practiced smile he used in every negotiation—polite, but self-assured. He had requested this meeting, and on short notice. Unusually, the Department of Defense had obliged without resistance.

Warrick Hargrove - Board member of Minos Corporation

He followed his escort through spotless corridors lined every few meters with floating holographic seals, marking the operational zones. Above them, embedded LED panels flashed live updates on Earth’s current conflict zones, climate intervention sites, and resource deployment programs.

They arrived at a panoramic conference room where sections of the wall were replaced with wide glass panels, offering a view into a tree-lined courtyard. Inside, a small group was already seated around a polished steel table:

• Robert “Bob” Lanier, Deputy Secretary of Defense—tall, silver-haired, dressed in a sharp modern navy uniform.

• Colonel Reyes, military advisor, wearing augmented insignia that glowed faintly, broadcasting rank and clearance level.

• Ms. Heaton, civilian strategic analyst, tablets in hand.

Lanier stood and extended his hand. 

“Mr. Hargrove, thank you for coming.”

Warrick’s smile widened just slightly. 

“Deputy Secretary Lanier, I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice. It’s not every day that Minos comes knocking on the Defense's door.”

Lanier gestured for him to sit, then took his own seat. One of the advisors—Ms. Heaton—passed Warrick a glass of water.

“You mentioned you had an urgent matter related to Mars,” Lanier said warmly. “Though we’re also curious about Minos’s expansion in South America.”

Warrick’s face lit up, his relaxed smile now infused with enthusiasm. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Our operations in Bolivia have been remarkably successful—especially now that the climate disruptions have, well, opened up certain opportunities. The new colonization initiative—”

Lanier raised a hand, the gesture paired with a mild, good-natured smile. 

“We prefer to call it a special economic zone, Mr. Hargrove. Under UN authorization, remember?”

Warrick Hargrove

Warrick’s smile tightened for a brief second, but then he gave a soft chuckle. “Of course. I’ve heard it phrased that way.”

The Deputy Secretary’s tone grew lighter, though his words still carried the calm precision of a seasoned statesman. 

“That’s exactly why the UN created this cooperative framework. Several South American governments—Bolivia included—have struggled to adapt to prolonged climate instability. Our role is support, not occupation.”

He leaned back slightly, casting a quick glance at one of his advisors. 

“That’s why it’s essential to understand: these aren’t military interventions. They’re partnerships, built on collaboration. And in that, the corporate sector—entities like Minos—play a critical role, delivering tangible results on the ground.”

Warrick nodded, his expression now more serious, though the smile lingered. 

“Understood. My apologies for the imprecise phrasing. Regardless of the label, the cooperation is working. Newly uncovered lithium reserves have accelerated battery production—and even opened trade routes into regions once deemed too unstable. We’re proud to be part of that stabilization—under any banner.”

Lanier gave a short, approving nod. 

“And we’re grateful Minos is willing to shoulder the development burden. It takes pressure off federal systems in a very real way.”

A brief silence settled over the table.

“Of course,” Lanier continued, “I suspect you didn’t come all this way just to talk about Earth.”

"Indeed, I did not," Warrick said, leaning forward. His voice dropped, turning more serious. "I'm glad to hear our efforts in Bolivia are appreciated—but what I want to discuss is a very different frontier."

Lanier clasped his hands on the table. "So, Mr. Hargrove—Mars. How can we assist Minos? Or do you believe we might be the ones in need of your help?"

A flicker of ambition lit up in Warrick’s eyes. "A little of both, Deputy Secretary," he said, leaning in. "Mars holds massive potential—minerals, strategic position... and yet, the entire effort is being overshadowed by corporate apathy. Paradoxically, the uncertainty here on Earth only makes our presence on Mars more urgent. At Minos, we believe a time is coming when American influence on Mars won’t just be advantageous—it will be essential."

Colonel Reyes and Ms. Heaton exchanged a glance—their curiosity visibly sharpened. Lanier raised an eyebrow, signaling his interest.

"Minos Station still represents the largest American off-world presence," Warrick continued, "even if the board currently considers it a stagnant asset. I see something else. If the United States is seriously considering a more assertive foothold, Minos is ready to collaborate."

Lanier tilted his head slightly. "A more assertive foothold… in a military sense?"

Warrick spread his hands, as if he had anticipated the question. "If we assume the U.S. wants to ensure certain key Martian regions don’t fall under exclusive control of rival powers—Minos Station could serve as your local administrative partner. In return, we’d welcome expanded government support, renewed mining permits, and the national legitimacy that comes with a deeper state–corporate alliance."

One of the civilian analysts was already typing furiously on a tablet, clearly summarizing Warrick’s proposal. Lanier tapped a pen slowly against the table, weighing the idea.

Warrick continued—his smile still friendly, but now honed with calculated precision. "I’ve heard the same rumors you have—about increased Chinese activity. And the Europeans have reinforced their outpost. It's only a matter of time before Mars becomes a geopolitical chessboard. If the U.S. wants influence, the clearest path is a partnership with us. We can shift from a private installation… to something more official."

Ms. Heaton nodded thoughtfully. "Your request is... quite direct. It would effectively transform Minos Mars from a purely corporate project into a quasi-governmental territory."

A moment of silence settled over the conference room, as if everyone were still digesting Warrick’s words. Lanier rested his arm on the table, a contemplative look spreading across his face. Finally, he broke the silence.

Warrick’s tone was gentle, but sincere.  

"Yes, my proposal is as direct as it is serious. Minos Mars already serves American interests on the planet—it simply lacks the open backing necessary to solidify that presence. Timing is everything. Each Martian settlement, after all, is still home to just a few hundred people. It’s better to secure our position now, before the Chinese deploy more personnel or pour even greater capital into their projects."

Lanier pressed his lips together, then glanced sideways at his colleagues. His voice had a tense calmness. "Indeed, Mr. Hargrove, the competition is intensifying—especially with the Chinese. But we believe that race has to be settled here, on Earth. Two hundred years ago, the United States was the first to use a nuclear weapon. What you’re asking for now would be crossing a new red line: extending war into space."

Warrick Hargrove

He paused, his gaze sharpening. "You’re not asking the United States for support. You’re asking for legitimacy. And those are not the same."

Lanier looked over the faces of his advisors. They all nodded. One of the military officers—Colonel Reyes—leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. "From a military standpoint, any large-scale operation on Mars would come with astronomical costs. Breaking the Chinese backbone at home is still a viable objective. And if we succeed—which we will—Mars will fall into our hands on its own."

Lanier gave a brief nod, then turned his full attention back to Warrick. "And one more thing, Mr. Hargrove—correct me if I’m wrong, but Mars mining isn’t exactly a gold rush right now. Why hold on to the position at all?"

Warrick blinked at the blunt rejection, a flicker of calculation tightening at the corners of his eyes.. It was clear now the delegation had come in with their minds already made up. He took a second to regain his footing, then answered with a quiet, good-natured chuckle. "You’re not wrong, Deputy Secretary. The current returns are weak. But Minos has never played the short game. We think long-term—part strategic vision, part insurance policy. This proposal isn’t about immediate action. It’s about making sure Mars has a place when the larger board gets reshuffled."

He straightened in his seat, and his tone softened just enough to feel intentional. “If that moment arrives sooner than anyone expects, remember this: we can move quickly and cleanly. Until then, you can be sure we’re not sitting idle.. One of our top engineers is currently overseeing operations at the station. Don’t be surprised if promising results appear within the next few quarters—well before the new permitting cycle.”

He closed his tablet with a casual flick and offered a polished smile around the table. “Ladies and gentlemen—speaking with military minds is never a waste of time. You've offered clarity, and I’ll take that back to Minos. And if circumstances change—if the United States becomes truly serious about its Martian presence—we’re only a call away.”

Lanier leaned back and gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Thank you for your candor, Mr. Hargrove. If—or when—the official position changes, rest assured we’ll revisit your proposal.”

A round of polite farewells passed around the table. Warrick’s friendly smile remained, but a flicker of disappointment showed behind his eyes. He stood, thanked them again, and stepped into the corridor, where the hum of the Pentagon’s futuristic infrastructure merged with the weight of history. Outside, his maglev taxi was already waiting—a quiet reminder that Mars, for now, still slept.

Union Station, Washington

After the Pentagon meeting, Warrick Hargrove took a short maglev ride to Union Station—the revitalized heart of Washington D.C.’s transport network. Decades of environmental pressure and forward-looking infrastructure policy had completely reshaped American travel. Short-haul flights were nearly obsolete, replaced by ultra-fast rail lines linking the nation’s major corridors.

Union Station, Washington DC

Warrick sank into a first-class seat aboard the American HyperRail Express—a next-generation high-speed train streaking up the East Coast at over 500 km/h. Its composite body gleamed white under the terminal lights, with sweeping curves and long panoramic windows giving it a sleek elegance. The train slid silently out of Union Station, gaining speed through underground tunnels before emerging into daylight.

Unlike the early 21st-century prototypes, the HyperRail now used quantum-levitation rail systems to minimize friction, paired with advanced solar-sheathed overhead systems. This synergy powered the train at mind-bending speed with a near-zero carbon footprint. Some segments even ran through partial vacuum tunnels, cutting air resistance further—allowing the train to move in near silence.

A soft chime rang out, followed by a cool, polite automated voice:

“Good afternoon. Welcome aboard the American HyperRail Express, destination: New York – Manhattan Central. Estimated travel time: fifty-five minutes. Our cruising speed will reach five hundred kilometers per hour. Onboard hospitality is available in car 3. Thank you for choosing American HyperRail—connecting the nation, carbon-free.”

Warrick exhaled quietly and let the hum of the train carry him. Outside the panoramic window to his right, the edge of suburban Washington blurred past, quickly giving way to rolling green hills—partially reforested farmland and sprawling solar fields, glittering under the midday sun. As the train accelerated, the landscape melted into golden-hued streaks beneath a soft spring sky.

He stared absently at the translucent console embedded in the seatback in front of him—still glowing faintly with notes from the Pentagon meeting. A brief crease crossed his otherwise relaxed face. Lanier had rejected his Mars proposal more harshly than expected. “No common ground for now,” they’d said. Focus on Earth, not the stars.

But Warrick saw it differently. Mars—symbolically or literally—might soon become the next battlefield. He sighed, the phrase echoing in his mind: “Break the Chinese spine on Earth.” A thought that felt not just outdated—but disturbing.

A sleek, autonomous service robot glided past his seat, its transparent dome displaying neat rows of steaming soups, warmed sandwiches, and sugar-free beverages. Warrick gave a polite wave—no, thank you. After the tense exchange with Lanier, his appetite was gone.

Outside, the train shot past Maryland’s reforested corridors and along Delaware’s restored coastal wetlands. Every thirty minutes, a quiet announcement reminded passengers of their speed:

“Current cruising velocity: 520 kilometers per hour.”

A crosswind nudged the train slightly, but the advanced stabilizers smoothed the motion, allowing only the gentlest of sways. On the horizon, wind turbines stood like monuments—living proof that humanity had turned away from fossil fuels a century ago. Another tunnel flashed beneath a newly established wildlife corridor; Warrick caught a brief glimmer of glowing algae swirling in a man-made channel—just a flash, gone in seconds.

Echoes in the Pentagon

Want to keep reading?

ICARUS isn’t a traditional book—it’s a new kind of storytelling.

Each chapter is broken into short scenes, enhanced with images, cinematic teasers, and links to supporting content: character profiles, technology breakdowns, and backstory threads.

This format is built for your phone, tablet, or laptop—giving you a dynamic reading experience and access to a broader universe behind the story.

Curious what’s coming next on Mars?

Scroll down and join our early readers list 📬 — we’ll send you new scenes and story updates every week.