Page 73 of The Red Woman on Mars

“Delilah? What would Delilah know about Martian law?”

“At the Hayes ball, she told me about your history organizing the women at the Sumter Refugee Camp. I thought you might appreciate the Martian approach to resource development and distribution.”

“I tried, at the camp.” Vivian touched her throat involuntarily. “In the end, I was unsuccessful.”

“Nearly there,” August remarked. “Suit up. And let’s hope the Intelligence’s stealth shielding has held.”

“Our shielding will hold.” The orb gave an irritated beep.

“Why did Silas bring Delilah out here anyway?” Vivian wondered. “What could he want at a half-finished terraforming facility?”

Xavier shook his head, his mouth a grim line. “I’d rather not speculate.”

“If you have a theory, tell me.”

“Very well.” Xavier rubbed one large hand across the back of his neck. “If this place is abandoned, it’s a perfect location for handling something delicate. Something that requires no interruption. Something you’d rather doesn’t become public.”

“Oh.” Vivian felt sick.

Xavier handed her a silver suit from a rack on the wall of the rover. “We’ll do what we can.”

With shaking hands, Vivian slipped her legs into the suit. Designed for a Martian build, the suit bunched uncomfortably on her thighs. When she finished fastening the top and gloves, Vivian picked up a round helmet. She stared at her reflection and was shocked by her stark, grim appearance. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun with a cord of rope she’d found in August’s pack, and her face appeared washed out without cosmetics. She’d gotten used to seeing another woman in the mirror. A woman adorned and dressed to please the gaze of a potential husband. She touched the helmet with one gloved hand.

This is the woman I want to be.

Daring.

Bold.

The one who does the rescuing.

“Ready to bring Delilah home?” asked Xavier, his voice distorted through the helmet. He lifted the surface plate and met her eyes.

He sees me, she realized.All of me.

“Ready.” She fastened her helmet.

The rover opened with a whoosh, and Vivian stepped down onto the surface of Mars. The walk was only ten feet, but each step was a challenge as she navigated gingerly around brown and red rocks, seeking stable footing. The Martians seemed at ease in their suits as they crossed the distance with long, confident strides, the Intelligence leading the way.

The doors to the facility slid open at their touch, and they waited in the pressurization chamber as it filled with air. August had warned them to stay silent, lest their voices be caught by the militia’s comms equipment. The Intelligence might be able to fool the cameras, but it couldn’t mask their noises. Vivian held her breath.

The inner doors slowly widened into an empty corridor. Instead of walls, only silver studs framed a path. Dim bulbs hung in yellow cages from the open ceiling, casting shadows on the rough, unfinished flooring.

August and Xavier opened their face plates and removed their suits, hooking them onto the frame. Silently, Xavier helped Vivian to detach her gloves. He touched one clammy hand to her own in a brief reassurance.

Vivian watched Xavier buckle the scabbard around his waist and draw his sword. His posture seemed to ease when he held it. He rummaged in his pocket for the bottle of painkillers and popped one into his mouth. Could he handle himself, despite his injuries? She wasn’t sure.

Without sound, the Intelligence projected a map of the facility on the floor, displaying heat signatures. Three orange pulsating dots were positioned in the laboratory. Two were centered in thecommand center at the far side of the facility. And one blue dot with one orange dot pulsed in the equipment room.

An Earther heat signature.

Delilah.

August lifted his sword and gestured in the direction of the equipment room.

They strode through the empty open halls, the Intelligence’s orb bobbing along with them at Martian eye level.

The equipment room had real walls in place and a steel door with a handle. Vivian cautiously pushed it open and stepped inside. The large room was packed with crates, a pile of tools, and large machines. And Delilah—lying on an elevated cot, an IV attached to her arm.