I killed the richest man on Mars. That’s what the Insulars believe, but it isn’t true. I am, however, sleeping with his wife, which is just one of the reasons why they think I killed Gerhard De Brecht. But compared to the historic events taking place across Mars right now, my fate is a tragedy playing out in a minor note. Earth is bombing us. Even though I’m Martian, born and bred, I still think of Earth as back home . We all do. It’s the old country , even to those of us who’ve never broken orbit. An invisible umbilical cord links us - it’s where every language we speak and every faith we practice and every gene we carry originated. As for Mars? I’ve never really felt pride of ownership. I’ve always felt I was born on the wrong planet.

Hadrian Stricks just killed the richest man on Mars, at least that’s what the authorities believe. It doesn’t help that Sticks just so happens to be involved in an affair with the wife of the recently deceased. As if proving his innocence wasn’t going to be hard enough, the Mars colony is in the fight of its life against the forces of Earth.