After childbirth, and the signing of the Union Contract, Debutante’s were big news. They often landed their own TV shows, as a result of their miraculous child-rearing achievements. Virtual unknowns’ to international celebrities in the space of 9 months. It was every Debutante’s dream.
Chapter 5
The Palace de Versailles was the obvious place to host the Haute Societe Ball, because of the grandeur, seclusion from the unwashed masses, and a history connected to Frances’ indulgent, baroque past. Elite guards; one from each the five nations, patrolled the grounds and perimeter 24 hours a day, armed with formidable electric shock weaponry, designed to incapacitate any intruder. Careware units buzzed around the grounds, filing the area's where Elite Guards were absent. There had never been a successful breach of the defenses, and few ever tried. That was a one way ticket to the Red Empire. Even being ,dirt poor on earth was preferable to the backbreaking labor of Mars’ mining operations, and the subpar standard of what most Martians called living. Martian philosophy, however, believed it was better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven.
The palace was a beacon not only to a rebuilt Paris, the capital city of New France, 35 kilometers away, but to all inhabiting Earth. At night, the brilliantly lit, veined white marble, and pure gold abutments and parapets shone for miles. The magnificent outer shell, however, was but a glint of the sun off a piece of mica, compared to the opulence within the horseshoe shaped buildings. Global warming allowed for the soaring palm trees and other tropical flora in the immaculate grounds, that could not have survived at that latitude in earlier eras. The jewel in the crown, however, was the maze. Impenetrable, emerald and forest green firethorn hedges, soaring to a neatly manicured height of 20 feet, which lined the mazes’ myriad pathways. Once a year, as a side spectacle to the HS Ball, the rich allowed the poor to try to solve the mysteries of the maze. Unbeknownst to the wretches who were brave enough to enter, and for the entertainment of the affluent, perilous traps throughout the confusing alleways were set. The deck was stacked. If successful, the man or woman emerging victorious was granted a humongous sum of credits, making him or her a member of the elite. No one had ever collected. But the entertainment value was ever popular.
The Grand Hall, where the Haute Societe ball itself took place, sported a 70 foot ceiling, with a fresco depicting 100 scantily clad, Venetian masked Aphrodites’; hips seductively sashaying, posing provocatively as they walked the ovate Strutway. The glistening onyx floor below, was a mirror image, broken only by the contrasting white sandstone Doric columns. The real Strutway rose three feet above the glossy substrate, but glowed an eerie bone white, just as its twin far above. Many a rich patron had tried to reconcile the cloned images and ended up swooning. Banners of every conceivable color and hue of the color spectrum draped and hung halfway to the floor throughout the soccer field sized chamber. Hidden but subdued lighting threw dancing shadows, mixed with subtle nuances of illumination. Stained glass windows 40 feet in height, 15 feet wide, ran the length of the Grand Hall enhancing the kaleidoscopic effect as colors mixed and separated and blended again, with the ever changing light of the sun. At night, with the windows backlit, the effect was maximized. Inlaid and framing gold, silver, ivory, ebony, blue sapphire, ruby red, and marbled jade greens reflected throughout. It was as if one was looking up into the sun from the watery depths of the ocean: a prism of ever changing color combinations haloed in white heat; a deity’s secret design. No wonder people fainted. Seeing it for the first, second, and even third time, inspired reverence and awe.
The Haute Societe Ball itself, added to the cacophony of swirling color; a seductive blend of new age musical undertones, that at once were in the background and in the forefront of the listener’s ear: it was like hearing without conscious thought or attention. The tones swelled and rushed away; an ocean of sound that caused arousal, and lulled one’s senses into a dream filled, semi conscious state. Incense and scented oils added to the euphoria; their aromas wafting from burnished copper vessels, hidden in the cornices and sconces around the walls, all of them drizzling subtle nuances of olfactory stimuli across the vast expanse of the ballroom. During the five nights, as the Debs graced the Strutway, their taut, lithe bodies on full and open display, the promise of raw, unadulterated sexual congress, and delicious release grew. The heady mix of imagery, light, and perfume was an all out assault on both Martian and Terran senses. It was no wonder, amongst the opulent surroundings that a man or woman might fall in love, from just one night of cloaked passion. Many a parting between otherwise rowdy Bloods and tender Debs was tearful with promises made, yet ultimately unkept. This heart wrenching aspect of the festivities was never advertised, of course. Heartbreak was a sordid, untidy affair, that was best swept under the carpet.
Keeping a promise to remain united beyond the confines of the Haute Societe was strictly against Terran law, anyway, and any Deb caught trying to engage in such unions, resulted in not only their banishment from the HS Ball, but also exile from Earth. So, it actually meant a one way ticket, paid in full, by a then disgraced, albeit rich father. To accompany the shame, the same father would be barred from ever enrolling another daughter in the illustrious procession. Social status of the entire family would be stripped, and half their wealth taken from them, ensuring that the relatives left on Earth were treated as pariahs by both rich and poor alike: a type of insufferable limbo where the offenders were welcome in neither caste. This was an unbearable pressure on the Fabulous Five Hundred entrant; to ruin her family’s reputation, was in itself, the pinnacle of any known punishment. Ultimately though, the strict law kept a shaky kind of balance, and generally ensured that operations ran smoothly. Yet, this was not the only law that demanded compliance.
The most important statute in the agreement between the Blood Empire and Terran representatives, was that a Martian may not see a Deb’s face either before, during or after mating. Which, in short, meant that a Blood could never gaze upon the face of a would-be Deb. Ever. The whole affair was to be completely anonymous on the Deb’s part. The less ornate, practical, skin colored fighting masks, worn by the Deb’s for the purpose of the ‘Socializations’, were never to be discarded. Well placed holes, for mouth, eyes and nostrils were fitted into the simple masks -- allowing for kissing, and for taking any Martian ‘offering’ directed at the mouth of the Deb. Decorative, Venetian masks were to be worn during the Strutway pageants, so the Blood’s could assess their prospective conquests bodies, but not their faces. Terran's further hid the identities of their chosen Fabulous Five Hundred, by cloaking them in transparent skin-shields, underneath their provocative Strutway lingerie. The shields themselves were subtle enough so as to not be seen, yet the skin-shield technology, completely obscured any identifiable birthmarks, blemishes or other features that could possibly give away a Deb’s identity. And, then during ‘socialization’ the flesh toned fighting masks were donned once more. These skin inspired face wraps kept all facial features, and hair hidden from view. In early days, the recognizable eyes of the Deb’s had been a problem. However, today’s pageants saw all the girls eyes’ implanted with violet colored contact lenses. Obscurity was complete. Or as complete as it could be, given all the giveaways of shapes and sizes of the models. Still, these protocols had been adhered to by both Mars and Earth alike. Since the inception of the HSB, and up until now, they were all duly tolerated. Dirk Benedict, the Blood Empire’s first elected ruler, had almost solely written this anonymity edict, when the HSB was first devised. The long dead leader, even now, was respected for his fearlessness, and of his fairness to Mars’ citizens. But his complicity in this law writing was resented bitterly by the Bloods’. So much so, that the Martians had began braying for legislation to be changed in this regard. It was more of a turn on for the Bloods' if they could see their mating partner's face.
But the current law stood, so during the processions, the Debs were covered in such a way as to confuse the Blood’s further. The women were clad in iden
tical lingerie; usually basques and/or teddies. Only their Venetian, Strutway masks varied, to give the Deb’s that little slice of uniqueness., as they posed and shimmied, beckoned and seduced the jeering Bloods. Height was an indicator to individualism, but it wasn’t that easy to determine, as the Debutantes were on the raised Strutway, and so effectively skewing the Blood's perspectives.
The uniformity of the Deb’s, didn’t mean the Terrans didn’t want their daughters to be noticed. So their dress, although identical to one another’s, was appropriately risqué. Just Three hues were used: black, red, and turquoise. A satin, black basque, or corset, clung tightly to a Deb’s torso to accentuate her slim waistline and barely contained bosom. False nipples poked out of the expanse of satin, to evoke arousal and desire. A small gap between basque and silk, turquoise panties revealed a diamond stud, glinting in the navel of each contender. A waist chain of alternating black diamonds, red rubies, and deep green jade, further flattered the eye, as the women passed before the Alpha and his betas. Black-- gartered and ribboned at mid thigh--fishnet hosiery dipped down to six inch blood red, stiletto pumps, to complete the erotic ensemble. The effect was one of raw sexuality, and combined with the pheromone laced perfumes wafting through the atmosphere, the Blood’s were left powerless to the Deb’s wares. Each siren passed to the raucous shouts of frenzied desire from the spectating Bloods.
The affluent Terran's, and the newly rich, upper crust Martians abided by the rules for mutual benefit, although the Bloods chafed under the weight of some of them. Unobtrusive, hover bots were assigned to each of the Martian visitors, with the exception of The Alpha. These miniscule droids were advertised as being for the Blood’s own safety and protection, but every Martian knew it was a thinly disguised demonstration of mistrust. Terran's were an uptight bunch. The running joke was if you put a lump of coal up a Terran’s ass you could get a diamond out in only four days, because of the intense, clenching pressure. The Bots, no bigger than a dragonfly, followed their designated Martian everywhere; even into the lavatory. More than one Bot had been smashed to smithereens by an irate Blood. In record time, a new one simply replaced the damaged predecessor, and the over reactive Martian was forced to sit out on the mating festivities for the remainder of the HS Ball.
The Bloods were confined to the Palace de Versailles grounds and allowed no interaction with the Debs prior to the Strutway selection, nightly ball and socializations. There was little time between the social interaction of the Strutway pageant, the amazing Haute Society Ball itself, and the Mexican masked Socializations. These cycles occurred, like clockwork, on each of the five days and nights; The Strutway, the ball, and then Socializations, and never varied. Fathers did not want their precious daughters to become more familiar with the marauding Bloods than was absolutely necessary. Besides, any unauthorized socializing brought ruin and shame not only to the Debutante, but the entire family. A lot more than successful impregnation was at stake.
The haughty Terran's looked down on the upstart Bloods as slovenly, dirty, and undeserving. Yet they could not ignore the fact that the Martians were needed.The Terran’s despised this conundrum. The fact that many Bloods were becoming rich themselves, as they collected the 70,000 credit fees paid for impregnation, also added to the elite's slow burning resentment. A fat wallet meant power, no matter what your manners were like, and power meant everything to the Terran elite. The balance of power was noticeably shifting, but there was nothing the Terran’s could do, except continue with the Haute Societe Ball for the foreseeable future.
Chapter 6
Anyone familiar with Australia “back in the day”, (an old Earth expression), knows that the island continent started out as the land of the Aborigines’, the indigenous people of Australia’s punishing environment. It was (and still is) the only landmass on the planet with more of venomous than non-venomous species of snake; including the death adder, inland taipan, and the king brown. The largest, most aggressive of reptiles, the saltwater crocodile, calls Australia home as well. Spiders the size of a man’s fist, with up to one inch fangs, also scuttle across Oz’s varied landscape. And the down-under land mass' bees are known to take their pound of flesh too. These animal perils pale in comparison to Mars’ creatures, though. Most of these many-legged beasts, discovered deep in the mines, had even the toughest of Bloods screaming like a frightened little girl. If Mars’ harsh weather systems, and unrelenting environment weren’t enough, the planet’s creepie-crawlies, were enough to keep any sane Earth-Dweller from visiting. The horrors of Mars were legendary.
When the Europeans exploded to intellectual dominance on Earth, they had started the colony of convicted criminals, in attempt to keep a just and ordered society. Australia was so far away from the civilized world, that the criminals could realistically be forgotten about in no time at all. Just as the European’s before them, the Elite of the present Earth, sent prisoners to the red planet. Obviously, a lot further away than Australia, so nobody need worry about remembering the fact that they were complicit in the dispatch of over 30,000 human souls to the far flung crimson orb. Most of which were male, but there were a smattering of females too. Mingling, and surviving together, without the influence (or interference) of Earthly customs, the bands of rough, downtrodden souls, began to loosely knit together, the way society tends to. A nation was formed in less than 10 years. Mars now had it’s own laws, it’s own customs, it’s own traditions, and even it’s own songs. The penal colony, over a 100 year span, became known as the Blood Empire, due in part, to the planet’s color and also because the inhabitants referred to themselves as Bloods. Yesteryear’s violent gang of the same moniker would have cowered in fear and crapped in their own collective, baggy pants, if they’d met up with the average Martian male or female.
Male Bloods stood at least six feet tall, but more often than not, attained a height of at least six feet, four inches. Heavily muscled, skilled in the art of combat --taught from age five -- marked with the tattoos of each clan, they presented as a formidable being. Martian women--what few there were --often eclipsed six feet as well, and kept the shapely curves and other features associated with Terran females. Long limbed, lithe and svelte, females tended to have slightly elongated facial features, but large blue eyes softened the effect, and they were considered attractive by both Blood's and Terran's alike. And they were also strong, and unafraid to fight if the situation dictated it.
For many years, the worst of Terra’s criminals were exiled to Mars to mine for newly discovered He-3, various iron ores, and a host of other raw minerals, now scarce or nonexistent on Earth. Though much of Mars had been terraformed, it was done in a way, that the essentials necessary to survive, were made sparse and precariously balanced. Future generations of Bloods made the planet more habitable and less reliant on Terran technology, as they learned to grow crops, produce oxygen, and repair the machines that both helped keep them alive, and that dug into the depths of the Martian substrate for precious resources. Humans on the harsh planet, through adaptation and anatomical evolution, eventually became Martians. But they were not the first to live there. The discovery of an ancient civilization, buried thousands of feet below the rugged surface, during routine mining operations, showed that somewhere in the distant past, perhaps over four million years before, other, more strange beings, had called Mars home.
Twenty years of terraforming made the red dwarf inhabitable, and another ten found the Bloods well into the forced mining trade. The rough hewn men of Mars did not have time for foolish acts such as waging war -- as the Terran’s often spent their money and their lives acting out. Life for Bloods meant trying to survive. And this task alone kept them busy. Many a Blood dropped dead from exhaustion from their mining efforts. Others fell, due to the extreme unpredictability of the weather, or were killed in the frequent collapse of their hastily carved mining tunnels. They learned the hard way that loose, sandy soil must be trestled and supported or it would cave in on itself. The Terran's didn’t care as
long as the He-3 kept flowing and filling the regularly scheduled transport ships.
Mars is beautiful to gaze upon from the safety of a spaceship; it’s red, translucent sands ever shifting. It’s two moons, dancing in Mars’ orbit, , and the valleys and mountain ranges of spectacular depths and soaring heights, standing out in relief against the planet’s gaseous, pale green skies. The reality on the surface is quite different at close quarters, however. Dust storms, with 300 plus mile-per-hour winds, that can last for weeks (one sectional vortex had been in storm mode for over 50 years) sweep across the barren landscape. During the long nights, the temperature drops to minus 225 degrees Fahrenheit and soars to 180 degrees in daylight. Even in a protective M-suit, the average man can only stay in the open for a limited amount of time. Terraforming the planet alleviated some of the problematic weather phenomena, but it also meant the miners spent most of their waking hours below ground. Which meant societal morale was always a main focus of any parliamentary agenda.
The oxygen content in the red orb’s atmosphere was also a fraction of that of it’s Terran sister. It’s thin air making travel between the planet’s seventeen compounds, an arduous chore. More than one traveler succumbed, when he was unfortunate enough to miscalculate the necessary data, and ran out of the life giving O2, before reaching his destination. This was one of the many (valid) reasons that the Bloods eschewed domestic conflict, right from the start of the forming of their empire. They just didn’t need war, when their society was already faced with the threatening hazards of daily living on the harsh globe. Every individual was needed to help each other survive. It was ALL about survival up there. Over the ensuing years though, the Bloods evolution started accelerating faster than ever, to meet the demands of the environment. Martians became able to withstand the temperature extremes with minimal cover and rapidly evolved to be able to breathe the planet’s noxious gasses. Their ever morphing lungs, developing their own filtration systems, that could handle a good chunk of the toxic chemicals that swirled above the planet's surface. The cumbersome M-suits morphed into leather shells, much like the hardcore bikers of Earth’s past. A simple re-breather unit sufficed, to filter the most dangerous toxins, when the wearer of the unit was not within the safety of a terraformed dome. Still, Mars held many more secrets and perils that could easily kill a man, if he was not cautious.
Clean Regency Romance: The Earl's Temptation (The Pure Heart Triumphs Series Book 1) Page 11