Chapter One
Did I just trade one hell for another?
Bright garish colors, pungent smells, and the unfamiliar burden of gravity assaulted Vivian as she took her first steps on the surface of Mars.
She pushed the unwelcome thought away and straightened her spine.
Letting her eyes adjust to the full sun, she watched the willowy Martians moving confidently through the expansive redstone plaza as they perused the merchant stalls selling cultured beef kabobs, recycled electronics, flavored water, wide-brimmed hats, and vibrant clothing.
Even in the shuttleport, close to the dome’s edge, the translucent barrier soared double the height of their lanky forms.
Her friend Luz slipped beside her and squinted up at the Martians. “They don’t look like aliens.”
“You know they aren’t aliens,” Vivian retorted, trying to reassure herself. She watched a Martian with pale skin stretched over his cheekbones make a strange languid gesture to his companion with one unnaturally long arm. “We share the same genetic sequence.”
“I know, I know. It’s the low gravity making them all seven feet tall.” Luz gave a Martian man purchasing a kabob an appreciative once over. “They remind me of pro basketball players. I’ve fucked a pro ball player or two in my time. The height difference matters less when you’re lying down.”
Vivian’s cheeks darkened. After nine months confined together on a transport ship, Luz’s crass sense of humor still managed to unsettle her. She attempted to match her friend’s disinterested tone. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Stepping away from Luz, Vivian located one of their Earther escorts from the ship. His muscular arms crossed over his chest as his eyes darted around the crowd. “Are we required to go to a customs checkpoint?”
He shrugged, barely looking at her. “We’re expected. I imagine they’ll want you lot behind high walls as soon as possible.”
Vivian glanced around the crowd uneasily.
What had the man so tense? Their group of thirty disheveled young women clad in spacer jumpsuits weren’t the only Earthers in the shuttleport.
Earthers staffed many of the merchant stalls and some stood behind Martian individuals or couples, bearing their purchases.
“I’ve never been valuable goods before,” Luz muttered in her ear. “It’s rather refreshing.”
Delilah sauntered up. “Viv, isn’t this place wonderful?
” Her sister grabbed her arm playfully. “Look at those stunning hats.” She pointed at a pair of Martian women with bright cloche hats adorned with chartreuse ribbons.
“We must get our own, of course. Everyone is wearing one, and we’ll need to fit in with the locals.
” She raised a finger again and made a face of disgust. “Except him.”
“Don’t point,” Vivian chastised as she followed Delilah’s gesture. And flinched, staring.
This Martian looked like an alien.
Augmented tech covered the man’s tall Martian form, glittering from the silver circular attachment on the right side of his bald head to the shiny silver rings on his fingers.
His heavy scarlet robes were cut too short for his tall frame and flapped absurdly above his tiny, booted feet as he parted the crowd on his way toward them.
Giving a small bow in their direction, the man said in a high, thin voice, “Red Mothers, I am honored to welcome you on behalf of the great Constance Yarrow, Secretary of the Arcadia Dome and my patron. I am Wim Adair, reverend of the Intelligence, and your guide in this new land.”
Vivian had no idea what it meant to be a reverend of the Intelligence, but she was not going to allow herself to be intimidated by her first Martian encounter. “Pleased to meet you.” She hefted her slim bag over her shoulder and stepped in front of the other women to offer her hand.
Wim bowed to her again instead of taking her hand. “Lesson the first, my dear: Earthers and Martians do not shake hands. Your strong grip would quite overwhelm us.”
Vivian quickly put her hand down. Should she have already known that? She knew so very little about Martian customs.
“Come, ladies,” Wim called, tapping two fingers on each hand together. “You must be exhausted by your ordeal. I am here to escort you to your new home.” He turned to the guard and said in an undertone, “Keep a close eye out, if you please. I don’t want any trouble.”
What kind of trouble? Vivian wondered. This place was supposed to be a new chance for her and Delilah.
If she’d made a mistake, it was too late to turn back.
The increasingly disturbing combination of propositions and threats from Max Rinaldi in the days leading up to their departure flashed through her mind.
“Make way!” Wim’s reedy voice came out booming as he activated an augmentation at his throat. “Make way for the Red Mothers.”
Vivian threaded her arm through Delilah’s and gave her a reassuring smile.
Her sister beamed in response. As Wim led their group through the busy plaza, the crowd parted before them, murmuring.
The glances they gave the women were mostly curious, not hostile.
Some even smiled or shouted words of welcome.
Tension dripped out of Vivian’s body as she forced herself to greet the friendly faces with an answering smile.
Until her gaze caught on one Martian in the sea of goodwill who didn’t look pleased to see them.
The man wore a double-breasted burgundy tailcoat over light-colored trousers.
His long arms crossed over his chest, and his black top hat did not conceal the look of anger in his dark eyes.
Vivian returned his glare until he looked away.
“Who was that?” she asked Wim.
Wim followed her gaze and scowled. “Don’t worry about him, my dear. Counselor Dorsey is not on the approved list, as much as it pains his aunt, my mistress Secretary Yarrow.”
“Why did he look so angry with us?”
“Leave be, girl,” Wim snapped. “We did not pay your way here to ask questions.”
Vivian felt an uncomfortable jolt of recognition at his dismissive tone. She swallowed a tart reply and bowed her head in a picture of meek acquiescence.
“Fucking men,” Luz muttered behind her. “The same on every planet. You need to watch yourself with that one, Viv baby. Your curiosity is going to get you into trouble.”
“I’m not going to let him intimidate me.
” When she’d accepted this role, she’d vowed to herself that she’d never again allow petty men grasping at power to assert control over her.
“This place is a new beginning, and I intend to make my own way in the world.” If she could convince Luz of her self-confidence, perhaps she could convince herself.
Luz snorted. “Never stop dreaming, Viv.”
After threading through the bustling shuttleport, Wim directed the group of women to climb a one-story platform and board an elevated caterpillar train that transported them on thin arching rails above the heads of the pedestrians.
The clean and comfortable train car held two adjacent rows of silver benches.
Delilah rose on her knees and eagerly pressed her face to the window.
Sensing the curious eyes of the other passengers, Vivian repressed her desire to join her sister in staring at the view and focused on projecting a cultivated and incurious air.
In less than ten minutes, they arrived at their stop. From the train platform, Vivian could see over the high walls into a grouping of modest buildings. Small, sculpted trees lined the curved redstone walkway enveloping an open lawn dotted with incandescent boulders in shades of indigo and violet.
After ushering the women down from the platform, Wim led them to the towering gates. “Welcome to your new home,” he said grandly, pressing his palm to the door key. The steel door swung open at his touch. When the women were inside, Wim dismissed their escort.
The gates swung shut and locked with a sharp click. Vivian’s muscles tensed at the sound. The interior of the gate had no palm lock or handle.
I’m not trapped. I’m not a prisoner.
Her breath came too fast, and the pace of her heartbeat felt alarming.
Delilah slipped a hand into hers. “We can climb these walls,” she whispered in Vivian’s ear. “This light gravity makes us superheroes.”
Vivian huffed a laugh. “Superheroes?” She focused on the pressure of her sister’s hand. Vivian was supposed to be the strong one. She was supposed to protect her baby sister like she’d done her whole life. Not fold immediately upon arrival.
I’m safe. I led us to safety.
She took a breath and let it out slowly, mentally counting backward from ten.
“Keep up, girls,” Wim commanded.
Delilah tugged on her hand, and Vivian allowed her little sister to lead the way. Ten paces. Twenty. They reached their destination—a squat building adjacent to the compound’s high walls.
Inside, the building contained a row of clean utilitarian bedrooms, each with two twin beds and a narrow closet, a shared bathroom with stalls and a row of showers, and a kitchen and dining area large enough to fit all thirty of them.
Vivian flashed to the rows of hammocks the thirty women had slept in on the weightless ship, and, before that, to the one-room tent she’d shared with her parents and Delilah.
At the camp, the walk to the filthy bathrooms took ten minutes and could be so dangerous after dark that Vivian had learned years ago to monitor her water intake carefully after sunset.
“It’s not much, I’m afraid,” Wim bemoaned, oblivious to the way the women’s eyes fixed on the bowl of real apples, oranges, and bananas. “The Intelligence asks you to consider this place your temporary base until you select a partner.”
Vivian drifted to the kitchen. The sink turned on at her touch, letting out a stream of clean water.
She opened the large refrigerator and stifled a gasp.
Packages of fully cooked cultured meat, soy cheese, leafy vegetables, and berries greeted her.
Vivian opened the cabinets to find sandwich bread, pita, bowls of potatoes and tomatoes, cooking oil, and spices.
Her thin frame trembled, and she blinked back unwelcome tears.
Wim’s augmented eye swiveled to her face, unnervingly out of sync with his human one. “I will leave you to select bedrooms and settle yourselves. The clothier will be by this afternoon to take your measurements. I will return in one sol.”
When they were sure he’d departed, the women fell upon the kitchen, laughing as they haggled over food.
Vivian wasn’t much of a cook and allowed Luz to take charge of her meal.
Soon, the two women were seated at a side table away from the group, eating large bites of pita sandwiches with juicy cultured chicken, crisp tomatoes, and crunchy romaine lettuce.
“This tastes like my favorite street vendor in Manhattan,” Luz said around a mouthful of food. She closed her eyes. “Forty-Fifth and Ninth. When I was a dancer, I’d get shawarma every night before my shift. Until the flood.”
“I didn’t know you danced,” Vivian said. “Were you ever on Broadway?”
Luz pressed her lips together in amusement. “Viv, honey, it wasn’t that kind of dancing.”
Vivian flushed. “Oh, of course.” She was always stepping in it with Luz, unable to fully mask her na?veté.
“I don’t know if these Martians are going to fall in love with you or eat you alive.
” Luz curled her full lips in a smile that mixed mockery and affection.
Her friend was exactly what Vivian wished she could be.
Confident, pragmatic, worldly. Gorgeous, with a full head of straight dark brown hair, glowing tan skin, and a lush curvy figure.
Luz might have ended up the same as Vivian—trapped in a camp after losing her home to a storm—but before that, she’d seen the world. She’d lived.
“If we have food like this every day, it doesn’t matter.
As long as Delilah makes a good match, and we both can send enough funds home for our parents to buy their way out of the camp, I’ll be fine.
” Vivian looked over to Delilah where she stood on the other side of the room, playfully popping grapes into her friend Camille’s mouth.
“What do you want for yourself?”
Vivian shrugged. “I don’t care.” And she didn’t. Her only goal was finding someone who made her skin crawl less than Max Rinaldi.
“You must have some preferences. Men, women, other genders?”
Vivian rubbed her shoulder uncomfortably. “Men.”
“I won’t ask tall or short,” Luz continued. “Or hefty, muscular, or lean. These Martians seem to come in one body type. Do you think their cocks are proportional to their heights?”
Laughing involuntarily, Vivian pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. She wished she could dash off a glib, unruffled response instead of giggling like a schoolgirl at the word “cock.”
“What do you look for in a man? Someone who can make you laugh? Or can take you on a nice date? Someone good in bed?” Luz waggled her eyebrows at Vivian.
“Stop it!” Vivian snorted and nearly spit out a mouthful of water.
“You know I have no idea.” The only experience she had with men was avoiding them—or trying to.
She remembered the expressive brown eyes of the glowering Martian that Wim had called Counselor Dorsey.
He’d been glaring at Wim, she realized suddenly, not her.
There was something appealing about the angular planes of his face, so different from an Earther man.
“You did think of something. I can see it in your expression.”
Vivian shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here to find stability, not love.”