The Martian Confederacy and Phobos

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The Martian Confederacy

Mars is united under the Martian Confederacy, a union of the ancient Martian clans and the people of Phobos Station. On the red planet itself, the clans still hold sway, but beyond its skies it is Phobos that speaks for Mars, and its hammer-marked flotillas are what most of the void knows as Martian. Centuries of marriage, war and shared hardship have blurred the lines between clan and station. Ask a Martian whether they are clan or Phobos, and you may get a different answer every time you ask.

• Off-world: Phobos is the Confederacy's most powerful faction, so "Martian" is a fair name for Phobos flotillas.
• On Mars: The Martian clans remain the main power.
• Identity: Clan and Phobos are distinct but overlapping, and it isn't always clear who is who.

The Martian clans and the Mars Insurgency

In the late 22nd century, interest in space had faded until Paul MacTavish, a wealthy and eccentric Trillionaire, spent his fortune on a small fleet and headed for Mars. For years Earth heard nothing. Then proof reached Earth — messages that his colony was thriving and had begun to build an atmosphere — and Mars Madness began. Ship after ship of eager settlers abandoned Earth. The madness soon faded. Once O'Neill cylinders were invented, offering a perfectly controlled, Earth-like atmosphere in space, the new Martians were all but forgotten.

Earth's governments had no hand in MacTavish's voyage. As far as he was concerned, Mars was his planet, until many years later the Solar government took an interest and moved to secure it.

For more than a century they were left alone. Amid the thin air and dust storms of their chosen world, they turned to infighting and tribalism, and each clan colony relied on violence to protect its poor settlements from the others. After many generations they became wild and dangerous people, with their own customs, their own way of life and their own faith. At its heart is MacTavish, the prophet who promised them a green Mars. Something he did began to warm the planet and build an atmosphere, enough that an ordinary human can survive on the surface for short spells. Nobody understands what it was, even now. In the warmer regions, a little greenery has taken hold, and genetically engineered plants and creatures cling to life in the harsh conditions. Yet Mars is barely different from how it was five hundred years ago. The clans still keep faith that one day their Eden will come.

In 2525, the Solar government took control of the planet. In the name of altruism and order, it landed forces across the Martian deserts and began imposing its laws and ways. Quick to anger, the clans answered with a guerrilla war against the space-born invaders. Phobos Station, built as the beach-head for that occupation, would one day become home to the descendants of both sides.

The clans of Mars

Every Martian clan takes its name from the ark ship that carried its founders to Mars, among them Mayflower, Camelot, Arcadia, Pauper and Eden. These ships brought people from all over Earth, many from nations as mixed as the old United States, so a Martian's looks say nothing about their clan. The old races of Earth mean little on Mars. What matters is the clan and the ship that brought your ancestors.

Clansfolk carry their clan on their faces. Every clan has its own markings, tattooed or scarred onto the skin, and these typically record the victories the clan has won. What began as a way to identify yourself, or perhaps to brand defeated rivals, is now a matter of deep pride, and the cause of many fights. For that reason, Martians cover their faces outdoors. The mask is a courtesy that keeps old grudges hidden, and it is also a necessity on the surface. Most dress plainly, with only small nods to their clan, and the people of Phobos show even fewer. Only in war do masks bear a clan's full colours.

Every clan family keeps a piece of its ark ship. Once these were large pieces kept in the family home, but each time a son or daughter marries, a piece is cut off and given as a wedding gift. Five centuries on, the old house pieces have become thousands of shards. Many a Phobos soldier or voidsman wears one on a chain around the neck, or keeps it in a pocket: a tiny fragment of their tribe's ark.

The clans gather to worship in temples set among biodome gardens, green glimpses of the Eden they were promised. There they read the writings of their prophet: MacTavish left extensive notes, full of rules for the new colonies, guidance on how to live, and records of what he discovered on Mars. Those writings are hidden from outsiders, and even in the 31st century, clans still fight over them.

Not every clan survived the long years. Clan Eden was wiped out in a genocide by the other clans, and nobody will say why. Clan Pauper, once powerful, was half-destroyed by its rivals and went over to the Solar government during the occupation. What became of it is unclear.

Famous clans:Mayflower (large and powerful, of American descent), Camelot (of British descent, always willing to work with foreign royalists, and still keeping quiet, mistrustful links with the Kingdom of Saturn), Arcadia (of Balkan descent), Pauper (once powerful, now of uncertain fate) and Eden** (extinct).

Read more: "Mars Is Ours!", a reporter's dispatches from the occupation in 2525.

Phobos Station Warrior Clans

The Warrior Clans of Phobos are a battle-hardened society forged from Martian tribes and occupation soldiers, united by strength and martial pride. In the shadow of Mars, the people of Phobos stand as relentless fighters, always ready to test themselves against worthy foes.

The moon Phobos, orbiting the red planet Mars, hosts one of the oldest man-made void structures in the solar system. Phobos Station was built over five hundred years ago as a beach-head or staging point for the occupation of Mars. Now it is a sprawling labyrinth of hab cylinders and factories.

The people of Phobos descend from the aggressive Martian clans and the handpicked soldiers of the occupation fleet. Each one is physically strong and has a martial pride. They are ruled by two elected commanders. Traditionally one represents the Martian clans and the other the occupation fleet, though now there is no true distinction. Only fighters may vote for them, but in a society built for war, that circle is wide. Engineers, doctors, even janitors: almost anyone on the station may have seen combat at some point, and those who have are counted as fighters meaning a large share of the people have the vote. Those who have never stood in the line of fire have no say in who leads it. Their ships are just as martial: the forward-facing Hammer class, which outsiders call the Phobos class. The people of Phobos respect strength of all types and the ability to overcome difficulty.

Even those born on Phobos Station must spend time on Mars as teenagers, living among the clans the "real way". Mars is no warrior's paradise. Most people there live lives of hard work and toil, but there is no real authority and little law, and violence is common. Young Phobosians learn to survive the thin air, the dust and the everyday feuds of the clans before they return to the station. It is a rite of passage that keeps Phobos tied to its Martian roots, whatever their bloodline.

The disgraced

When a Martian flotilla shames itself, the leader of all the flotillas in its area brands the crews as cowards. There is no other way back. They must win some clear victory, and until they do they are cut off from home, alone in the cold void with only their own tenacity. Some never win that victory. Instead they find a moon or a planet out in the Web and build a settlement of their own, living out their disgrace far from Phobos or instead turn to piracy.

The Tishpak

Out in the Web, the Martians have claimed a desert moon of icy nights and scorching days. They named it Tishpak, after a little-remembered Mesopotamian warrior god. The name passed to the lizard-like aliens who live there, and to the moon itself. What they call themselves, nobody knows, if they speak at all. The Tishpak tribes hand over their eggs as trade goods. Phobos hatches them and raises the young into formidable soldiers, who serve as shock troops. On paper these soldiers are members of the Martian Confederacy. In practice they are slave soldiers, though the Phobosians will point out that none have yet rebelled or asked for freedom. Stellar law forbids only the slavery of humans, so Phobos keeps to the letter of it. NOVA does not see it that way but so far this has led only to mild tension. Both sides know that if NOVA did fight over it, the battle would kill the very Tishpak it meant to free. Why fight a war to free aliens where you just end up killing the same aliens who refuse to be free.

Named flotillas

• Phobos Aggression flotilla: A balanced mix of ships, bearing the hammers of Mars and the colours of the Martian sands. Its young pilots will be eager to win glory in battle.
• Martian Cargo Flotillas: Supplies the Martians' claimed moons out in the free void. See The Tishpak.
• Disgraced Martian forces: See The disgraced. Made up of disgraced ships whose crews have been branded cowards. They are determined to prove their worth again by taking back a lost system for Phobos Station. Until then they will receive no help from home and must rely on their tenacity.

*On the Surface of Mars.The boy was keeping pace at least, not like his last child… the thought hurt… but he pushed it from his mind and pressed onwards. Their quarry was tiring and they were getting closer; its blood was still wet, not yet frozen by the icy martian winds. His head was sore from lack of oxygen and he considered taking a breath of air from the canister but he did not want to show weakness in front of the boy. He spotted the dust deer ahead amongst some unscalable rocks and thorn bushes, it had tired and was no longer leaping but could still gore with its antlers. He kept his calm and distance but let the boy leap two meters upwards, the low martian gravity helping him climb.“You do not have surprise on your side boy,” he rasped through a mouthful of grit, “be patient.” The boy, wrapped up in full furs over his exo-suit, slowed down and lowered his machined perfectly balanced spear at the animal. The spear had been his and his father’s before him, a relic of clan mayflower and, it was said, older than the occupation. The deer was about to give one last fight but his son had seen this and was ready.++COMMANDER++ the comms sparked in his ear; not now he thought... The deer charged at the child who did not flinch but took one step forward at the right instant, thrusting the blade deep into the animal's chest. He felt his son's elation at the kill but the boy did not shout, instead he let the deer’s corpse rest on the rocks and knelt in the ashes of mars giving thanks for his success.++COMMANDER WE HAVE YOUR LOCATION++ He would have to be quick. He strode up to his victorious son, a man now in any martian's eyes, the boy took off his mask and handed his father a tiny clean knife. A small star and two stripes were cut into one cheek and the old commander took a small handful of martian dust and brushed it into the wound.“My Son,” he said, it was all that needed to be said. There was a sudden buzzing like an angry swarm of wasps and over the rocky hillside a machine flew into view. He put his hand to his ear “Come and get us, this is over.” The gunship came lower and the martian dust flew high into the air; he allowed himself a breath of pure oxygen and helped his son carry the kill on board.There were two other passengers. A woman in full masked Phobos navy kit and a ferocious lizard legionnaire who barely fit and was clinging to the interior with hooked claws.“They have called me back to Phobos.” It was more a statement than a question. She inclined her head,“A full flotilla is yours, there is a target in the free void.” He looked at her, full faced with tattoos and scarification on display, his foot rested on the kill.“Good,” He smiled menacingly, "Things were starting to get too easy here.”[The account ends here.]*