Page 32 of The Red Woman on Mars

Vivian knew firsthand the unpleasant consequences of not consuming adequate protein. And she’d seen the hollow-eyed children at the camp during lean months. It’s why Vivian had joined forces with Evie and other women in the camp to pool their resources to collect a stockpile of nonperishables.

Until Max Rinaldi had intervened.

Vivian traced the surface of the reader as she learned about the concept of Martian Collective Sovereignty. All Martians had fundamental rights over their own bodies and the right and expectation to contribute to the collective well-being of the community. Martians contributed to the self-reliance of Mars, independent from Earth, and had a responsibility to aid with producing adequate nutrition on-planet.

She’d never known anything like it.

No one had ever given her a chance to produce anything herself. She and her family had been entirely reliant on the meager handouts of an increasingly broken government. She thought of her father, who would have welcomed the opportunity to return to a factory and earn a living instead of being trapped in the camp without any chance to find work. Her heart squeezed as she pictured her parents’ uncertain future. Despite reaching outevery day, she and Delilah had heard nothing further from them since Miranda’s message.

A shadow covered her reader, and she looked up in surprise to see Wim hovering above her. “Vivian, excellent, I was hoping to have a word with you.”

“Is all the food in our kitchen produced in this dome?” Vivian asked him.

Wim blinked. “I believe so.”

“Could I see it?”

“You wish to see the greenhouse farms?”

“And the cultured meat labs. And the water treatment plants.” Vivian wanted, powerfully and suddenly, to visualize Martian Collective Sovereignty in action. She didn’t know, she realized, if tomatoes grew on trees or bushes. Or the ingredients in a loaf of bread.

“I’m sure your partner would be happy to arrange a tour.” Wim sat beside her on the courtyard bench. “Which brings me to the reason I’m here.”

Vivian put down her reader and fixed a polite, attentive smile onto her face. Whatever it was, she wished he’d be quick about it so she could return to her book.

“Yesterday, at the dance, the Intelligence informed me it had singled you out as the companion of my future life,” Wim declared. “But before I run away with my feelings, perhaps I should state my reasons for marrying.”

All thoughts of collective sovereignty fled Vivian’s mind. She suppressed a hysterical laugh.Wim? Run away with his feelings?Her laughter faded into dread when she realized he was deadly serious.

Wim continued, “My reasons for marrying are, first, I think it is right as a servant of the Intelligence to set the example of its great vision for Mars’s future.” He put a ringed hand on his chest. “Secondly, I am convinced it will add very greatly to myhappiness. And thirdly, which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honor of calling patroness.” He stared dreamily into the distance as Vivian beat back the panic in her chest. “Secretary Yarrow has declared I must be among the first to wed. As the servant of the Intelligence, it is my duty.” He turned his attention back to her. “And now nothing remains for me but to assure you of my affection.”

Vivian held out one hand, as if to try to stop his words. “No. Thank you, but this is my choice, isn’t it? My answer is no.”

“Decline!” Wim scoffed. “I have heard that it is usual with Earther women to reject the man they secretly mean to accept. And that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I will, therefore, not be discouraged.”

For a moment, Vivian was so angry by this idea that she was unable to speak. “You can’t really believe such nonsense,” she finally sputtered. “I mean it. No. You couldn’t make me happy, and I’d bet I’m the last woman on this planet who would make you happy.”

Wait …

She hadn’t meant to bring happiness into the decision-making. Her parents were in danger. She couldn’t afford to care about her own happiness.

“The Intelligence believes we could make each other happy.”

Vivian couldn’t help herself from bursting out, “Then the Intelligence is wrong!” She grabbed her reader and rose to depart.

Wim sprang to his feet, towering over her. “The Intelligence is incapable of making a mistake. When I speak to you next on this subject I expect a more favorable answer. I will refrain from accusing you of cruelty because I know it to be the established custom of your culture to reject a man on the first application.”

Was he listening to her at all? She couldn’t accept this man. She couldn’t. “You aren’t making sense,” she said weakly.

Could he force her to accept? Was the commitment to allow the women to choose their own partners merely lip service?

“You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear, that your rejection is merely words. I’m not of the highest echelons of Martian society, true, but I’m Secretary Yarrow’s most trusted advisor and have a direct line to the Intelligence. It doesn’t appear to me that my offer is unworthy.”

Vivian trembled in frustration and an uneasy fear. “Thank you again, but I can’t accept. Good day, Wim.” She hurried away without another word.

CHAPTER TWELVE

47 Sols to Presentation Day