Mars, God of War

So i'm writing this science fiction novel. It's called Mars, God of War. It's a alternate universe, speculative fiction sort of thing set in a future which is primitive but not. Anyways 4 great empires rule the world, Britain, France, Germany and Russia and in this reality Mars has breathable atmospehere so the 4 empires, sailing to Mars on airships not unlike the great Man-O-Wars of the 17th and 18th centures, colonize the planet and a set of colonial wars, not unlike the ones fought on North American and African soil begins as the empires struggle to dominate the red planet. And I want good constructive criticism on this, not just stuff like 'good start' or 'I didn't like it' I want to know why, i'm tired of that monosyllabilic BS.

Mars, God of War
By E.G Dalshaug

Mars was the God of War in Roman Mythology. He ruled the fields of battle with a gruesome majesty. Mars, Red as blood, God of War, God of Battle and Patron of Soldiers. Mars is indeed my God for I am a soldier and I fought for Mars.


The year was 2176; four great empires ruled the world. Britain, governed by King George XVII ruled over North and Central America, the Iberian Peninsula, Scandinavia, North Africa and a small portion of Asia centered on Hong Kong, France, ruled by King Louis XXI had South Africa and America, and Saudi Arabia along with parts of the Middle East. Germany, with Kaiser Wilhelm XIII at the head of its government, ruled Central Europe, Denmark, Holland, Italy and Turkey. Russia, with Tsar Peter XV had Eastern Europe, Siberia, and most of Asia. This was the situation on Earth, a stalemate. But Mars was different. Three hundred years ago, the first airship was designed. Built in the style of the wooden Man-o-Wars that ruled the seas, these massive ships used square-rigged sails to catch solar energy along with solar waves, which carried that energy to planets, and used the solar waves to pull them along throughout the solar system. The solar energy was used for various things around the ship, including the engines that were where the rudder would be on a normal frigate and the gears with brought up the plasticide. Plasticide was a type of improvement over plastic, clear as glass, light and extremely strong. The Air Man-o-Wars used plasticide in a dome over the deck to keep the air in. Plasticide was also used to create a type of cover that kept the air in when the guns were rolled out to engage other targets in space or the air. These ships sailed from Old Terra to a new world, Mars. A lush world inhabited by thousands of strange creatures, such as the Thorks, a very strange Martian cousin of our horse. It was large, had not a bit hair on it, not even hooves, and used ten legs to run across the landscape. Martian flora was pretty much the same as Earth’s with few variations, the grass was a little tougher on the horses but they got used to it; that was about it. Mars had 8 continents separated by seas more or less the same as ours. Every great empire colonized the continents, France and Britain both had two continents, Germany had one and Russia three. Germany did have two until the Russians drove them off their second one.

It was into this environment that I entered what would become known as the Martius War, from the old Latin name for Mars. My name is Alexander Caelan, Canadian by birth, British by association. King George had long suspected Russia and France to be in an alliance against us, our old enemies uniting to force us out of a new world. As we did once to the Russians in the Crimea and to the French in the Americas. And so the King ordered three more Armies of 6 corps each to reinforce our primary colony, on Nova Britannia, a continent in the northern hemisphere of Mars. I was a soldier from the 1st Royal Canadians, a historical and distinguished regiment in British history, the 1st RC was with the 4th Canadian Corps of the Army of the Canadas, one of the three armies that sailed to Nova Britannia from Earth aboard of fleet of Man-o-Wars. I was at the bow of the HMS Victoria when I first lay eyes on Mars. I was dressed in the uniform of the British army, a double-breasted scarlet tunic with medium length tails and gold buttons. My epaulets were black with gold lining, I had black trousers with red stripes on the sides, also there was a stiff red collar with gold lining, and my cuffs, which also had gold lining. Underneath my arm, I held my shako hat, which had a red and gold plume to show that I was a Canadian soldier. The plate, which adorned all shakos, was engraved with the Lion of Britain emblazoned over the maple lead of Canada, underneath this there was another engraving that read: “Ducimus”, or “We lead” the motto of the Army of the Canadas. Underneath this was another engraving, this one said “Pro Patria” or “Always ready” the motto of the Royal Canadians. Over my shoulder was slung a musket, though improvements had been made, including cartridges of powder stored in the butt of the gun, percussion caps, better quality powder, rifling and a retractable bayonet which was permanently attached to the muzzle and shot out with the press of a button, it was still the old muzzleloader it had been since 1863. On my arm, right above the elbow there was 1 chevron and a crown emblazoned across a maple leaf. This stated that my rank was Leading Rifleman, or LRM of my troop, the third in the 4th company of the 2nd battalion of Royal Canadians.
“Ah Mars at last” said Captain Fremantle, the commander of my company as he marched up to stand beside me, a hand on the hilt of his sabre.
“Sir!” I said, snapping to attention and saluting.
“At ease” replied the Captain easily. I shifted, spreading my legs a shoulder width apart and crossing my hands behind my back. As I stood the armada, carrying the hundreds of thousands of soldiers to New Britannica separated to go off to its many landing zones across the continent. We were heading to New Dorchester, a major port on the northern coast of Nova Britannia.
“Have you ever been to Mars before sir?” I asked.
“Never, how about you, LRM?” Captain Fremantle responded.
“No sir” I said and looked out into the clouds as we made our approach to New Dorchester along with 8 other Man-O-Wars. As we emerged from the clouds, a wide green land was exposed to us. Farmland stretched in every direction along with Great grassy plains, the Martian grass was a little tougher than ours and had a reddish tinge to it. This explained why the planet appeared red to us at a distance. The water too, though mostly blue like ours, had a slight red tinge to it. As our flotilla emerged from the clouds, I spotted smoke.
“Smoke!” I cried pointing to the billowing black clouds. As our plasticide screen folded down into the hull, my nostrils were choked with the smell of death and gunpowder. As we came in closer, we saw the source of the smoke and the smell. It was New Dorchester, it was under attack. I strained my eyes and spotted at least 12 man-o-wars of the air, all 20 deckers, 25 guns on either side of a deck, and 20 in the sea, three deckers, at least a hundred guns per ship. Then I saw the colours, Russia. Russia was invading. The stone, steel and concrete walls of New Dorchester had been breached in several places and thousands of soldiers in the green of the Tsar were flooding in.
“Sir, 32 man-o-wars off the larboard bow” cried one midshipman.
“Duly noted Mr. Denison, Mr. Reilly, bring us about! Mr. Denison, run up the colours!” commanded Captain Wolfe, the captain of the Victoria. Wolfe was a proud man, tall and physically imposing with brilliant blue eyes and dark brown hair, a patriot to the last, Wolfe was willing to do anything for England.
“Aye aye, Sir” replied Denison, running to the stern to run up the Jack. A few minutes later and Wolfe, the brilliant man, had our flotilla’s larboard broadside facing the bow of the Russian armada with the Naval Jack of the British Empire flying proudly in the Martian wind
“Prepare for battle men, and remember ‘England expects every man to do his duty!’” Wolfe said, quoting Lord Nelson, unsheathing his sword and brandishing it above his head. Panicky, I placed my shako on my head and did up the strap under my chin. The enemy had nearly three times our ships and numbers. The Victoria was a five decker, 20 guns per deck but still, this was insane.
“Larboard battery! FIRE!” Captain Wolfe roared, sweeping his sword down towards the Russians. The hundreds of guns on our eight ships roared, shot sweeping the decks and smashing the hulls of the Russian vessels. They turned their starboard battery to us and returned fire, at the same time closing the gap for boarding, where their superior numbers could to be brought to bear to even this contest. At a range, British seamanship was obvious superior, but the Russians have a saying: “The bullet is foolish, the bayonet wise”. Shot and shell exploded around my head as I took cover behind the railing of the Victoria and loaded my rifle as quickly as my shaking hands would allow. A huge Russian air frigate closed in on our larboard. Wolfe gave the order and the uppermost gun decks switched to canister shot and swept their deck with hundreds of small bits of shrapnel. I stood up with the company and fire off a shot into the Russian ranks. Reloading, I took aim at a Russian lieutenant and loosed the shot. It took him in the throat, sending him stumbling backwards and falling over the railing into the sea, hundreds of feet below. A shot whooshed past my ear and I instinctively hit the deck. Reloading my musket, I took aim over the railing and spotted my assailant, a Russian sharpshooter in the crows nest. My shot ripped through his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground in a heap. Our battle continued for a half an hour, but with more Russian vessels closing in and the Russian land troops about to turn the guns in New Dorchester upon us, our flotilla was forced to retreat. We made for the capital of Nova Britannia, Jamestown.