Mars looks beautiful and terrible from space.  The massive planet dwarfs the tiny spaceship, Pioneer, where I have been living for the past two years, fills my view ominously.  Beneath the wispy clouds, the planet seems to glow red, like the last few moments of an ember before it dies out.  Against the starry backdrop of the universe, it appears pure.  Untouched.
 "Lane?" my pilot, Zachary Webb, says quietly.  We sit together on the flight deck looking through the thick panes of glass to the endlessness of space beyond.
 "What, Webb?"  I ask impatiently.  I don't even need to ask.  I already know what the question is.
 "Shouldn't we be able to see it by now?"
 Untouched.  That's the problem.  Mars looks untouched.
 Two years ago, the United States government finally granted NASA the funding to construct and staff The Colony.  It was by far the biggest space project undertaken by any federal agency thus far, and it was years before construction even began.  The Colony was made up of underground dormitories, laboratories, and living spaces, which all met the surface under one massive glass dome, where botanists and biologists would work together to develop an Earth-like ecosystem.  The goal was for The Colony to be entirely self-sustainable within thirty years, and they were well on their way for about three months.
 Two hundred of the world's best astronauts, scientists, mathematicians, and doctors were sent up together after months of training.  The massive rocket was sent up into the atmosphere with great fanfare.  I watched it from my home on TV.
 22:12, January 4th, 2437.  That's when all communication from The Colony had stopped.
 No video calls, no emails, not even automatic hourly transmissions that the computers were programmed to send.  For a week, NASA had kept all radio transmissions open 24-7.  They sent messages out, but signal just bounced back.  It appeared that all of the satellites had gone offline.  After a month, people started to give up hope.
 The US government, however, was too invested.  My mission, Pioneer One, was thrown together at the last minute, a group of second-tier astronauts who just barely didn't make the cut, didn't quite make it up to Mars.  I had been ranked number 201.  If one person, one single person, decided not to go, I would have been sent up with my best friend and my older brother.  But who in their right mind would be stupid enough to turn down a chance to live on Mars?
 I was number 201, so I was the first person NASA reached out to about the rescue mission.  Myself, along with numbers 202, 203, 205, and 206 had all agreed.  It had taken the better part of a year, but I had grown to trust, to care for, my former competition, and they respected me and my leadership.  And now, two years later, we were finally here.
 Maybe this mission had been a mistake.  Maybe I shouldn't have agreed, and maybe the last two years of my life had been a complete waste.
 I stare out at the barren planet.  The Colony is nowhere to be seen.

xxxx Several hours later, I am outside of the ship. Despite my heavy suit and gear, I feel freer than I had been in years. The radio crackles in my ear, and Webb speaks urgently. "Lane, get over here." Minutes pass, and I stand next to him, at the very heart of where The Colony should be. He points wordlessly to a plaque on the ground. "Veni. Vidi. Vici." My face creases with a frown. "I came, I saw, I conquered. Isn't that Julius Caesar?" Webb nods. "Who do you think -" He is interrupted by an instant of radio interference. Our friends on the ship. "Come on. Let's go back. We can talk about it inside. Best to conserve the air tanks." I turn to face the ship and freeze. The Pioneer is gone.