Page 5 of The Red Woman on Mars

“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.”

CHAPTER TWO

60 Sols to Presentation Day

Vivian stared at the stranger reflected in the mirror. Her long curly brown hair was done up in an elaborate coiffure, and her dark eyes sparkled with the aid of cosmetics. The clothier, an artificial construct with a polite but firm personality, had insisted upon preparing the women’s hair and makeup itself, moving efficiently from one to the next with steel limbs and inhuman speed.

The dress the clothier had foisted upon her was a floor-length cream ensemble studded with embroidered flowers and a silk bow at the back. The modest neckline covered her breasts, and the full capped sleeves hid her shoulders. She looked like a heroine from one of the ancient paperback Regency romances she’d find in Sumter’s donated library. The fluffy fabric felt so different from the polyester jumpsuits she’d been issued for the voyage or the threadbare secondhand clothes available at the refugee camp. She’d never worn dresses at Sumter. Dresses attracted the wrong sort of attention from the bored men prowling the camp. Now, she felt confined and hampered by the unfamiliar skirts.

Once the women’s appearance was deemed acceptable by the clothier and it had departed, Wim entered their dormitory, his single human eye alight with anticipation in his long narrow face. “Excellent. I find it a pleasure to see you clothed in the style of our culture. You will do us a credit.” He pressedhis long-fingered, ringed hand to his chest and gave a little bow. “Today, the great Constance Yarrow, Secretary of Arcadia and my esteemed patron, has honored us with a luncheon hosted in the banquet hall to introduce you to Martian society. My lady, in her wisdom, has heeded the will of the Intelligence to allow you a plethora of opportunities to obtain a satisfactory partner.” Wim bustled around the room, passing out slim black earpieces and silver headsets with petite rectangular screens that came in front of the left eye. “The Intelligence has identified optimized matches, and these devices will guide you to interact with the guests determined to be most compatible with you as a spouse and co-parent.”

Delilah placed her headset on her head and twirled like it was a tiara. “The perfect accessory to compliment my outfit.” She gave an exaggerated curtsey as the headset wobbled, and several of the other women smiled fondly.

Vivian took hers from Wim automatically and stared down at it with a frown. “What’s the Intelligence?”

Wim’s brow furrowed. “Surely you must know of the Intelligence?”

“An AI,” Camille offered. “When the tech billionaires came to Mars a couple hundred years ago, they created the Intelligence to help them build the domes.”

“Very good, Miss Harris.” Wim gave her a little bow. “The Intelligence has always guided Mars.” He put his fist to his forehead in an unfamiliar gesture.

An AI was going to play matchmaker?Ridiculous. Vivian wrinkled her nose. “What if we select a partner who isn’t an optimized match?”

“Ah, I don’t think that’s a likely outcome, my dear. The Intelligence is powered by the wisdom of the whole of human history and is never mistaken. Your optimized matches have compatible values, temperaments, and sexual proclivities. All potentialpartners have been screened to confirm they’re of appropriate social standing and have sufficient income to support a wife.” Vivian watched him glance at Luz as he said, “They’ve been vetted against risk factors such as mental health defects, a tendency toward sexual violence, experiences with trauma, and other sub-optimal traits.”

Tough, unflappable Luz shivered at his words.

Vivian thought of her friend Evie from the camp who had gotten pregnant through rape and still loved her baby fiercely with every fiber of her being. “Experiences with trauma?” She blurted out. “Mental health defects? You think people who’ve had a hard life shouldn’t become parents? What does that say about us, then?”

“Ah, you are to be our new resident skeptic, I see,” Wim said through clenched teeth. “My esteemed lady does relish a challenge. The Intelligence guides us to optimize our limited resources here on Mars. A lesson Earth could badly use.”

Luz shot her a look that clearly said,Shut up, Viv.“We are new here and eager to learn.”

Vivian clamped her jaw on further argument. Right, she needed to be careful here. Her position was precarious, and her parents’ future hung in the balance. Sumter had taught her self-preservation was often achieved through silence, but it galled Vivian to simply swallow her objections and go along without debate. How could she ever find a new beginning if she couldn’t speak her mind?

“Just so, Miss Flores.” Wim nodded to Luz in approval. “Red Mothers, it’s time to find your partners.”

The compound wasn’t much larger than a couple of football fields, encompassing their dormitory and several additional buildings hugging the high walls. The middle of the space was wide and open, their path lined with sculpted mandarin orange trees. Instead of grass, Wim explained, creeping thyme served asa ground cover, requiring minimal water and enhancing the air quality. The thyme bloomed an amethyst hue, bathing the afternoon walk in color. Large boulders dotted the ground cover, their shimmering colors exotic to Vivian’s Earthborn eyes.

In a matter of minutes, they arrived at a square white building with open arched French doors. The harmonious sounds of instrumental music wafted toward them. Vivian raised her chin and stepped inside.

The party was already in motion. Long-limbed Martians wearing formal clothing and elaborate head coverings gathered in small groups conversing, casually holding vibrantly colored stemmed glasses in their long, elegant fingers. The women wore dresses similar to Vivian’s, tailored to their long slim bodies, and wide hats adorned with real flowers. The men wore brightly patterned vests under sober well-cut tailcoats with shiny black top hats. The sumptuous decor matched the Martians’ clothing. Tall stalks of irises and lilies covered every surface, and crystal chandeliers brightened the room in a shimmering rainbow of light.

Earther servers clad in simple black uniforms moved quietly and efficiently through the crowd. They were the only other Earthers in attendance, Vivian realized with unease.

“The Red Mothers,” Wim announced, his voice artificially amplified. He gave a little bow in the women’s direction.

The Martians murmured among themselves, looking Vivian and the other women up and down with frank appraisement. Some lowered their headsets onto their left eyes, and Vivian observed how they considered each woman in turn, eyes flicking over the data.

“Don your headsets and earpieces, if you please,” Wim commanded the women in a low voice. “And no drinking, ladies. We would not want to get sloppy. First impressions are critical.”

Delilah stifled a giggle.

Vivian stepped further into the room and pasted a smile onto her face. Her hands shook, and there was a leaden weight in her belly. A bearded Martian man nodded to her. Next to him, a copper-haired austere woman looked down her aquiline nose at Vivian.

“Mr. Nakamura is a close ally of my lady Secretary Yarrow and a noble patron of the arts,” Wim’s voice came in her ear. Vivian jerked in startlement. “An excellent choice for a spouse, if overly pretentious.” On the far side of the vast room, Vivian could see Wim in a crowd of Martians, gesturing with one ringed finger. “Miss King has excellent credentials, but, in my humble opinion, is haughty and discourteous.” The earpiece, Vivian realized suddenly. Was Wim’s commentary pre-recorded?