2503.07 — Consent #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera
"I'm going to choose," May Ri told herself, building her courage, to get it over with. Her heart beat too fast; she hyperventilated. Her hands felt damp.
Anticipation.
Anticipation of disappointment!
Having lived four months on Mars, if May Ri knew anything, she knew that people lived differently here than on Earth. Today was no exception. Since the cut-off of transits (supplies and new colonists) from Earth, situations like men doing only the dangerous space work polarized male-female interactions further.
As for women...
May Ri knew when signing up that the underlying reason she was here was to expand the gene pool, thus the auditorium she entered. Chicago held similar expectations for her: Under the Decath regime, what was a housewife? Here, she worked to expand the habitat, farmed, and trained in Mars machinery design while living segregated in the women's connected domes. Men visited during scheduled Honeymoons. The contract she'd signed detailed her responsibilities: She'd consented to marry within a (Mars) year.
That Reina called today's meet and greet the "Meat Market" drew recollections of pre-penthouse level Zocalo butcher shops only the most wealthy could visit back home—her previous home. May Ri's body kept its own count of time, way more than the 73 day transit and 120 days on Mars—Men looked really good, today. Within the year time limit, she got to choose a husband, not her parents or a Decath minister.
But...
Considering her bad luck at barely 22—no, 11 Mars—deeper worries stopped her with a hand on the doorframe at the entrance. Her hand shook.
The door monitor said, "Show some confidence, girl, or he'll say No."
May Ri had completely missed the older woman. She rushed in...
Auditorium was too grandiose a word. Seven men in greenish EM Mars jumpsuits stood on a raised stage of epoxied regolith inside a small up-lit shroom dome of pastel greens, reds, and black dusting. Since most Martians squatted or sat crosslegged, the younger women congregated together on square pillows, talking lowly and pointing. Six men talked quietly between themselves.
The seventh...
May Ri inhaled sharply, holding it, walking slowly, scanning the meat for sale. She'd seen few men during the last months; only in intradome meetings or by vid.
She needed to focus.
Look at each.
But, she looked at the seventh again. Stopping when she barked her shins on the knee-high stage.
The seventh had coffee-color skin diluted with a lot of oat milk. Long fingers poked furiously at his book plate. While the others seemed preoccupied by their audience, the sandy-haired guy with cowlicks poked, then touched his ear implant, turning away to talk lowly in a pleasant voice.
That was a magnetic sight.
She warned herself it might be her abstinence, so she judged the rest of the exterior, up and down, and his smile and happy nod when he finished. A glance at the other women confirmed they'd noticed, too.
May Ri said loudly, "I choose him," pointing.
One of the other women jumped to her feet, bowling over five others. In the chatter, May Ri heard, "Can she do that?"
A hand on May Ri's shoulder made her glance back to see red hair and freckles. Her half-pouting teenage tutor, Reina said, "I was going to choose him, too."
"I—" May Ri sputtered.
Reina shook her, giggling. "Take him."
"Wait, Roger? You're married. Via Vid-downlink!"
Does that mean... Two...? Wait, what?
Reina directed her grey eyes at the other group of men. She whispered, "Roger died a month ago in an airlock accident. Didn't want to depress you. I get to choose again." The men heard it and looked worried when she pointed. "I'm choosing Rodriguez." A short swarthy man with short-cropped black hair stood bolt upright.
A shadow made her look up. Her gaze met deep brown eyes and an apprehensive smile. "I'm Randolf," he said in a West European Conglomerate accent. He offered a hand. Professional, doubtless. Not a day under 30 Earth, maybe 35. "What's your name?"
She blinked, hand rising, but didn't turn away; forced herself. She couldn't interpret his nod. She forced herself to think Lust at first sight.
And failed. What came instead was the hope of someone who might treat her as an equal.
Stupid.
Reina cut in. "May Ri's training as an engineer. She never gives up. She's fun, too."
"Fun?" May Ri thought, scoffing, looking at Reina. Then Randolf took her hand. They locked gazes again.
Reina whispered into her ear, mischievously, "I hacked the showers and Rodriguez's cabin cam. His nickname, The Rod, is well deserved. As for Randolf, he's—"
"Randy?"
Reina laughed. Randy answered, "Yes?" looking confused. #RSMarsNeededWomen 07
[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]
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