Page 3 of The Red Woman on Mars

“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 fuckeda 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 absurdlyabove 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 thinarching 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.