by Avell Kro
outside relationship.
The Szu’Kara were sticklers for propriety, although they tended to tolerate more from the
humans they favored. Their own word, kara, loosely translated to mean elite, noble, or leader,
depending on the context, and every alien born of the commander line received a name that
included ’Kara.
Alyssa glanced across the office to where Kayn stood behind his desk with sunlight filtering in
through the tinted picture window behind him, casting a halo around his silhouette. A large lamp
shined from the corner of his desk, making his dark face glow, halting Alyssa in place, her heart
skipping a beat.
“Ras amuses you.” The corner of his mouth turned up, a gleam in his eye.
With a quick shake of her head, Alyssa rushed to her desk in the corner of the dark office,
feigning interest in a stack of files. She smoothed down the hem of her lavender silk blouse, tucked
a few strands of hair behind her ear, and steadied herself.
“Kayn, I have something to tell you. Is this a good time for a private conversation?”
Alyssa sensed Kayn’s presence at her back before his hand touched her shoulder, long fingers
sliding up to caress the curve of her neck. Taking a deep breath, she turned to gaze up into his
liquid gold eyes, mesmerized by their beauty as she considered how a baby would affect their
burgeoning relationship. She couldn’t imagine not being able to touch his silky, steel-blue skin or
feel his long, slender fingers sliding through her hair. The thought sent tingles down her spine.
Pull it together, girl… don’t get distracted. This might change things, but he still cares about you.
He knows you’re a dedicated employee, so there’s nothing to worry about.
Alyssa dragged her almond-shaped eyes away from his all-consuming gaze, her pulse racing as
nervous butterflies fluttered in her belly. Stepping back, Kayn seemed to study her like a treasured
specimen, his sharp, regal features giving him a commanding presence that demanded respect.
“There is much work to be done, but I will allow a short break if it is important.”
“It is.”
“Shall we sit?”
“Yes, please.” Alyssa drifted to the sitting area across from her desk, hesitant with nerves. “I’m
sorry to interrupt your day, but I have some… news I need to discuss with you.”
Perched on the leather sofa together, Alyssa turned to face Kayn, placing her trembling hand in
his as he cradled it in his large palm, nearly distracting her again. “What do you need to tell me, my
dear?”
Alyssa blew out a shaky breath. “I had a doctor’s appointment this morning.”
“Yes, it was on the schedule.”
“It was at the prenatal clinic. I, uh, had a pregnancy test done. It was. . uh.” Oh, hell.
“Yes?” Kayn’s face remained emotionless. Not curious, not concerned—not anything.
A lump clogged her throat, threatening to choke her, and with a gulp, she blurted it out. “I’m
pregnant!”
***
Get Broken now and find out what happens next!
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Other Books by Melony Paradise
The Discordant Earth Series:
The Interview
Broken
New Enemies
Unchained
Vamp Tales Series:
Along for the Ride
Meet the Clan
Moving Day
Witch Slap
Ground Zero
Gilded Cages
LONELY HEARTS ON MARS
“A short story about life on Mars in the near future”
Aurora Springer
Copyright 2015
All rights reserved
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the
products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. All characters appearing in
this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely
coincidence.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form or
by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information
storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the copyright owner except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Chapter 1
Oxygen.
Yes, the oxygen level was rising. Lucilla noted the sensor reading on her tablet. The little angels
were working their miracle and transforming the atmosphere of Mars.
She stared at the rocky terrain outside the transparent dome. She had never imagined the angel
covered surface would be so colorful. The green and yellow slime crept among the rocks, and the
small pools of water reflected the deepening blue of the sky.
It was funny how popular names emerged from acronyms. The inventors had used the name of
Genetically Engineered Early Lifeforms for the cyanobacteria designed to survive on the surface of
Mars and release oxygen via the process of photosynthesis. Subsequently, the public relations
advisors had deleted the word “Genetically” because of the unpopular connotations. Their
suggested acronym of EngELs was corrupted quickly to angels, which was a fitting name for the
initial agents of the vast project intended to save humanity.
If the long term strategy succeeded, Mars would be terraformed into a farm to grow food for the
billions of people on overpopulated Earth. The angel bacteria seeded with the nitrogen enriched
fertilizer to produce oxygen were the first stage in the transformation. The final stages would not
come during her lifetime.
The daily news reports flashed on the screen. Lucilla shuddered at the images of the rioting mobs.
She could never return
to the cities of Earth. She had deliberately chosen this life of isolation as a
scientist analyzing the transformation of Mars. Three years of evaluations and training for her
solitary job, followed by the hardships of a year in the spaceship, had proved worthwhile when she
was assigned to Mars Station Three. For a scarred introvert like her, four years living of alone in
the dome were bliss. The nearest people were the two scientists in their separate domes on distinct
regions of Mars, and the watcher stationed on the moon Phobos. The four people on Mars enjoyed
their privacy, and even communicated using virtual avatars instead of displaying their real faces.
She assumed the others had their reasons, just as she had, for using the avatars. Even now, after a
decade, she remembered her bleak desolation when Steve had refused to visit after her accident.
She recalled the disgust in his eyes when she tried to speak with him. No, it was better to live here
on Mars. Who would want to see her ruined face with the scars and the fake eyeballs? At least her
prosthetic eyes gave her the ability to see a wider than normal range of the electromagnetic
spectrum. Her enhanced vision was invaluable for chemical analysis, and was one of the reasons
she had been chosen as a scientific observer on Mars.
Lucilla ran through the morning routine, checking her compression suit, the emergency air, and
the climate controls for her dome habitat. The temperature-controlled suit was comfortable and
hooked easily to the air cylinder and helmet when she ventured outside the dome. She examined
the filters and conduits for the air regeneration system and the water recycler. There were no leaks
as confirmed by the low variation in the daily readings.
“Dev,” she called to her robotic assistant. “Bring me a cup of coffee.” The official name for her robot
was Devin, which was intended to sound like a male human. Lucilla’s cynical mind imagined that
the name Dev was short for Devious, since it was often a challenge to explain simple actions to the
robot despite its enormous brain. She had to provide detailed instructions to Dev on how to make
coffee from the individual freeze-dried packets of coffee and milk. Still, Dev was extremely strong
and had encyclopedic data stored in its electronic brain.
The robot approximated a human in overall shape, but Lucilla had rejected the fully human
features available in other models. She preferred the robot to be her assistant and not a humanoid
companion for conversation or intimate interactions.
The com beeped. It was time for her short conversation with Mack, the scientist manning Mars
One near the North Pole. Mack’s avatar lit. As usual, the smiley face icon irritated her. She wished
he would choose a more original image. His personality showed the same lack of novelty, and he
spoke with the same stolid, monotonous voice every time.
“Mars One to Mars Three. Mack here. What’s new Lucilla? Over.” He always asked the same
question in identical words.
She took two steps to sit at the desk, swiveled the chair to stare outside the dome, and called back,
“Mars Three to Mars One. Hi Mack, this is Lucilla. No problems here. All readings are normal.
Angels are busy. What about your station?”
“Roger, Lucil a. No problems at Station One. Ice cap has started the summer melt. Ending
transmission from Mars One. Over and Out.” Mack was a real loner and never talked for more than
five minutes. He studied the seasonal variations in the ice cap and the geological formations near
the pole.
Lucilla sighed. Mack was gone until tomorrow, although, communication with him was scarcely
better than talking with her robot. She knew her distant companions only by their different
avatars and voices. Mack and Rosalee were the scientists on Mars One and Mars Two, while Jasper
watched from the spaceship tethered on the tiny moon of Phobos.
She prepared her midday meal of vegetable stew with a mug of soy milk, and ate in silence while
gazing across the freshly verdant landscape outside the dome. Every week, the angel slime spread
further and the pools of water deepened. Above, misty clouds puffed into the sky as hopeful
harbingers of rain. Probably the first rain showers on the planet for millions of years.
It was time for her walk. Lucilla sealed the helmet round her neck and buckled on the air supply.
Her compression suit was sufficient protection for the light atmosphere of Mars. She shouldered
the sample collector.
As a further precaution, she said, “Dev, I’m going outside.” Lucilla entered the air lock, and waited
for the breathable air to be sucked out of the chamber. The outer atmosphere cycled into the air
lock, and she stepped onto the stony surface. Her boots were studded for purchase on the slippery
angel-coated rocks, and she held a pronged staff for extra support.
The atmosphere of Mars was denser since the angels had begun pumping out oxygen. The three
percent oxygen level achieved after ten years was a tremendous improvement over the original
level of less than one percent. At present, there was still insufficient oxygen in the atmosphere to
breathe comfortably, although at the speed the angels worked, another decade or two might
suffice.
Once outside the dome, Lucilla paused to admire the fresh cloud formations and bluing sky. Her
buggy was protected under the bubble extension of the residential dome, and the rows of green
plants were visible inside the large greenhouse. She walked cautiously away from her dome. Each
time she came out, the angels had crept further across the stony terrain. Their colors had
brightened from the initial dull brown to grass green, lemon yellow, and orange like the surface
soil.
She took samples of the angels as she walked. Each sample of the cel s went into a separate sealed
tube with a label indicating the time and distance from the injection site. She paced to the end of
her safety line, and looked ahead at the streak of green angels extending toward the mountain
range on the horizon. The little miracle workers had reproduced faster than anyone had
anticipated. The angels eagerly chewed up the dusty soil, and excreted the precious oxygen gas into the thickening atmosphere.
Back in the air lock, she activated the opaque setting on her goggles to protect her eyes, and ran
the decontamination cycle. She endured the sterilizing wash of chlorine and the short wavelength
radiation, and made sure the sample tubes received the full treatment. Strict precautions were
essential when dealing with the mutated cells in this remote and hostile environment. Lucilla
stacked the tubes into the rack and instructed Dev to run the sequencer, perform the full chemical
analysis and compare the new readings with the results for earlier samples. The robot was useful
for these routine, repetitive tasks. She could rely on Dev to notify her of any abnormal deviations in
the DNA or chemical components of the angels.
Chapter 2
It was time to call Mars Two. Lucilla sighed, Rosalee always needed a reminder. She punched the
code and sent out her call, “Mars Two to Mars Three. Lucilla here. Are you awake, Rosalee? Over.”
She waited five minutes and repeated the call patiently.
On the third attempt, the icon of the pink rose appeared and she heard the reply, “Mars Two to
Mars Three. Hi, Lucilla. Sorry, I’m late. I’ve
found this scrumptious new game in Artificial Reality.”
Rosalee tittered, “I know you hate AR sims, but the games keep me amused. Not much going on
here. The angels have developed more colors. Oxygen level still rising. Over.”
“My angels have turned green, yellow and orange, Rosalee. Do you have pools of water at Station
Three?”
“Ooh, Pretty. My angels are green and yellow. What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have a better idea tomorrow when I have the results for the DNA analysis of the
new samples.”
“Do you think they’re mutating, Lucilla?”
“Yes. Mutate is what bacteria do best.” Lucilla smiled to herself. The real question was not if the
angels were mutating, but what new features they were developing to cope with life on Mars.
“Okay, I’ll wait for your results tomorrow. Bye, Lucilla.” The signal terminated.
Lucilla wondered if Rosalee had returned to her AR game. It seemed her chief entertainment
between the routine observations and maintenance chores. Yet, she wouldn’t pass judgment. Each
of the Martian observers had their own peculiarities, and Rosalee had lived alone on Station Two
for eight years.
She checked her list of chores for the day. The scientific observations were under control, although
the ful sequencing and analysis of the new angels would not be completed for several hours. The
data were transmitted automatically to a backup com on Phobos station, and the scientists on
Earth would receive their daily report after the usual few minutes of delay.
One hour of exercise was the next item on her daily routine. Lucilla used the treadmill and the weights religiously to overcome the debilitating effects of the low gravity of Mars. Even so, after
four years, she feared she was losing the fight to retain muscular strength. She might never be able
to walk in Earth gravity again. But, why would she want to return to Earth and endure the stares of
pity or disgust whenever people saw her face?
Her exercises completed, Lucilla flipped through the food catalogue to decide what to generate for
her evening meal. It hardly seemed worthwhile to prepare a special meal for one person.