Page 36 of The Red Woman on Mars

“Is it true?”

The doctor shrugged. “The population of single, eligible Earther women already living on Mars is rather small.” She met Vivian’s eyes again. “I took the Hippocratic Oath. I won’t let you suffer needlessly. We will use every tool at our disposal to minimize your discomfort and pain. Now can we get on with it? I’m doing fifteen of these procedures today.” Without waiting for an answer, she depressed the valve attached to Vivian’s hand.

Vivian had only a moment to experience a tingling in her face before her world went dark.

Sometime later, Vivian blinked open her eyes to the bright glare of fluorescent overhead lighting. She turned her head to see Luz staring blearily at her.

Vivian craned her neck to see she was still dressed in a hospital gown, lying on the same medical bed. A bandage covered her hand. She could sense, as if from behind a curtain, that her lower abdomen ached.

“We’re supposed to stay here and rest,” Luz told her weakly, gesturing around the large room to several other women still sleeping in the other cots. “A car will come by eventually to take us home.”

A screen took up half of one wall, a video playing on low volume. “Is that the secretary?” Vivian’s voice came out as a whisper.

“Looks like it.” Luz pressed a button on her bed and the sound became audible.

A male Martian journalist wearing a pinstripe blue suit sat across from Constance Yarrow in a wood-paneled office. “Today is a momentous day in Martian history. The Red Women at this very moment are donating their eggs to the Intelligence. What would you like to say to them?”

Secretary Yarrow had never bothered to visit the dormitory or even speak to the women, but now, she looked directly into the camera. “Red Mothers, you are giving your very body to provide for us. You are the mothers of the future. The bridge that will take us into a glorious new era where Martians can finally populate this planet. The Intelligence”—she touched her fist to her forehead briefly—“has asked me to pass a message along to you. Red Mothers, we will remember your bravery and sacrifice for all of Martian history. Your names will be spoken and remembered.”

The anesthesia was wearing off in earnest now, and Vivian could feel a painful pressure on her pelvis. Her hand stung. Her skin smelled like dried sweat. She didn’t feel very brave.

The program shifted to footage of a crowd gathered on the street outside the clinic. They held signs of support and wore large hibiscus flowers attached to their hats.

One young Martian woman with tears streaming down her face clutched a sign in front of her chest that readTHANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICEin large block letters. “You know what it’s like to want children desperately and know that a baby would kill you,” she said to a journalist. “When I see an Earther mother, with her little Martian baby, I just want to hold that sweet little baby and never let them go. But I was that baby. We were all that baby. That baby will grow up to be just like the rest of us—we’re all essentially sterile.”

“Is there anything you’d like to say to the Red Mothers?”

“I want them to know that when I’m walking down the street a few decades from now and see a beautiful, tall Martian woman with a round belly, I’ll ask her for her mother’s name. I’ll speak her mother’s name and remember it. I’ll remember her sacrifice.”

TheArcadian Lifecoverage went on like that for a while. Vivian watched the interviews numbly as her abdomen pulsed with dull pain. The rows of cots grew, until all thirty of the women were crammed side-to-side in the large space, staring at the footage of grateful Martians.

Finally, hours later, they were told their driver had arrived, and the first wave of women could dress and depart. Vivian pulled a dress on with shaking hands, every movement sending pangs through her lower stomach.

She remembered how she’d blithely told Xavier she had a high pain tolerance. What a foolish thing to say. It was easy to forget about the impact of pain once it was gone, but now that it was back, she found herself reliving every memory of pain from Sumter. How much worse would the next step be? Nine months trapped inside a prison of her own body as Dr. Chavez injected her with treatments designed for the health of the fetus, not her own health.

When Vivian stepped onto the street, a bright flash caught her by surprise. A camera. “Vivian Bowen, how does it feel?”

Vivian’s stomach cramped so sharply she doubled over. The journalist didn’t miss a beat. “Look at the sacrifice the Red Mothers have taken for our planet. Look how Miss Bowen moves stoically through the pain. The Intelligence chose wisely when it selected such a brave young woman to be a Red Mother.”

Luz gripped her arm and pulled her upright. “Come on, Viv baby. One foot in front of the other.”

Looking up through a haze of pain, Vivian could see the onlookers locking arms, forming a path from the clinic’s door to the groundcar. Their signs lay forgotten at their feet. They were singing, Vivian realized. An old Earther hymn that made Vivian think of the church basements, acoustic guitars, and red Kool-Aid of her childhood in the Carolinas.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,

That saved a wretch, like me.

Luz was staring at the onlookers, her pinched face softening with wonder. Vivian gripped her friend’s hand and tried to anchor herself on Luz’s expression. If Luz could find purpose out of this unpleasant day, so could she.

I once was lost, but now am found,

Was blind, but now I see.

“Shit, I think they actually mean it,” Luz whispered. “They think we’re here to save them.”

“Can we get a move on?” the driver demanded, holding open the groundcar door. “I’ve gotta make five trips to bring all you girls home.”

Vivian tugged on Luz’s hand, and they made their way to the quiet groundcar. As they pulled away, Vivian’s eyes met the woman she’d seen on the TV show, the one who’d cried. The woman pressed a hand to her chest and mouthed, “Thank you.”