Mars Needs Women

Chapter 1 - A Difficult Woman

Mars needs women. That's what the brochure said in bold colored font.

A newly terraformed paradise, it declared in fancy script — a promised land where hordes of good men would line up to woo fair maidens. I might have paraphrased a bit, but it kinda read like a trashy romance novel. They promised to pay passage, and even a dowry upon getting hitched.

"Ya aughta go," Pa said. "Maybe there you could snag a good man. You done pissed in the dating pool 'round here, and no man wants to swim with you."

"Thanks, Pa," I grumbled. "That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

He sighed. "Mavis, let's face it, yer a difficult woman — headstrong as a charging bull, and stubborn as an old mule. And ya don't want to end up an old cat lady."

"Pa, I'm only twenty-two!"

Difficult was a nicer way of putting it — been called much worse. But can I help it if I had high standards? Probably would have gone better if I had a filter between my brain and mouth. And it's not like I can't turn a man's eyes. I mean, I'm a slender gal with curves in the right places, a pretty face, thick sandy-brown hair, and I clean up good.

But God, were the men pickin's around here slim.

Any good men got snatched up by women who were, well, not difficult. And all that was left to choose from were greasy players and knuckle-dragging rednecks. 'Nuff to make you wanna gag. 

And I knew what Pa wanted: to get me out of the old house so that gold-digging hussy Belinda can move in. Had to admit, though, I ain't been very nice to her. Years ago, Ma up and left us for some slick-arse northerner. Pa was still a handsome man, and the farm was making good money, particularly with food prices going up. But like most men, the blood that filled his cock drained from his brain. I been trying to protect him from the pretty-faced leeches, and this was the thanks I got?

Fine.

Still, new scenery might be good, especially since with all the riots and stuff, Earth was heading to hell in a handbasket. But I don't need no man to make it — tired of all that. See, I got higher aspirations, just hadn't figured out what they were yet.

If Pa wanted me gone so him and Belinda can play hokey pokey under the sheets, then I'm going. 

Mars was my ticket outa here to a new adventurous life.

*****

The space transport Mars Sparrow, which I unofficially renamed the Chick Ship, gave me and about a hundred other gals rides to Mars. Two counter rotating habitat rings supplied artificial gravity for the boring month-long journey, but the closer we got, the more excited I got, like counting down to Christmas. Most of us had never been in space before, and we crowded the windows as it approached the Mars Transit Station.

The gals came from all over Earth with all sorts of skin colors and backgrounds. Everyone was escaping bad lives on Earth and hoping for a better future. I made new friends along the way, and they were all pumped about getting a man. But not me — I had other plans, but I kept that to myself.

When the ring spun around, Mars made a right pretty picture. The planet used to be all red, but after some two-hundred years of terraforming, it changed. Now blocks of greens and blues spread across the middle like a patchwork quilt. Views don't get much better than that.

The Mars Transit Station reminded me of a giant Christmas tree ornament, round with pointy parts at both ends. Twinkly lights shining through the windows made it look all festive, which kinda matched the mood here.  

Not far away, I made out a much larger space station with a classic donut shape. Someone told me they used robots to build it out of pieces from the former moon Phobos, and they were putting the finishing touches on it now. When it opened, it would support not only Mars traffic, but also asteroid miners and deep space missions. Pretty amazing stuff, if you asked me.