Irene exploded into the bunk room from the corridor, went immediately to her top bunk, and started shoving her things into her Mars Ho bag. “I’ve had enough!” she screeched.
April scooted back on the lower bed to keep out of the way.
Leah rose up strong into a warrior pose. “Don’t let them get to you.”
Irene paused with one of her jumpsuits hanging half-way out of her bag. “Who?”
“The people in the fitness room.” Leah straightened her front leg and moved seamlessly into a triangle pose. “Everybody’s scared right now. Rethinking things, but not really thinking, you know?”
“You think I’ve been hanging out with them? That I can’t make up my own mind?” She stuffed the jumpsuit into her bag and headed into the bathroom.
Lori felt a deep cramp in her stomach. Two of her six bunkmates had already scrubbed out, and now a third was on the verge.
April scooted out of the shadow of the upper bunk and sat on the edge of her bed with her tablet in one hand while she massaged her foot with the other. “We’ve lost eleven so far.”
“Eleven?” Lori couldn’t help the sharpness of her voice. That was more than a third of the Mars Ho contestants. Was this part of the production plan?
“Twelve.” April nodded toward the bathroom door a half-second before Irene came back through, muttering to herself and stuffing her toothbrush, comb, and various soaps and lotions into her bag.
Leah stood tall in mountain pose. “You sure about this?”
Irene’s face twisted into a scornful smile, but then she stared at the floor. “I just hadn’t considered how permanent this whole thing would be.” She hovered a moment in silence, looking like she wanted to say more. She turned and walked out of the bunk room.
Twelve, Lori thought. Her odds of a one-way ticket to the Red Planet were better now, but she didn’t want to win like this.
“Seriously?” April’s face was a mask of disbelief. “She didn’t consider how permanent the Mars colony might be? Go live in a cluster of high-tech huts built by robots 200 million kilometers from home. Real astronauts have made barely a half-dozen trips, and three of them died! It’s not freaking Disneyland.”
“Everybody had their own reasons for applying.” Leah blew out a long breath as she transitioned through plank into downward facing dog. Her ponytail hung down and touched the mat. “And their own reasons for leaving.”
April shook her head. “You always this enlightened when you do yoga?”
Leah laughed and held her position, hips high in the air. “Less stressed, anyway. You should try it.”
“I’m good.” April went back to work on her tablet.
Lori was about to ask Leah for a yoga lesson when the bunk room door opened again and a sweet-smiling, fortyish woman sauntered in with her own Mars Ho bag.
“Hello, ladies!” the newcomer exclaimed in a sing-song voice. “Women’s Bunk 1?”
April tapped her tablet screen. “Cecilia Block, right? From bunk 3?”
Cecilia held a hand to her chest and feigned surprise. “You are well-informed, aren’t you? It seems there’s been a . . . shuffling of personnel.”
“Hmph.” April looked across at Lori. “Want to know who else scrubbed out?”
Lori felt a tug in her chest at the thought that Mark Lauren might be gone. But he wouldn’t have quit, would he? Not after one day, and not after they saved everyone.
April started reading off names. “Robbie Gaines. Marisol Avalos.” She paused. “Kirsten Tiede, Irene Sintes, and Robyn Ortega, from our bunk. Obviously.”
Cecilia surveyed the available beds. Irene’s bed was still unmade, and getting to Leah’s bunk—where the top bed was free—would have required her to step over Leah during another round of Sun Salutations. Catching Lori’s eye, Cecilia settled into an accommodating smile and strode toward her.
“Solomon Sharp. He unsealed his helmet at the airlock. Devon Springer.” April scrolled through a list on her tablet and typed on the virtual keyboard. Lori guessed she was updating her spreadsheet.
“Everyone’s a bit shell-shocked, of course.” Cecilia carried on a one-sided conversation as she stowed her things away. “I’m doing quite well myself. I hope they won’t have us switching up our bunk assignments every night! Although I do welcome the opportunity to get acquainted with new people.” She tittered and gave Lori a wink.
“Oona Taelma. She was on the geology team with us,” April continued. “Amanda Grabarkiewicz. I don’t think I even met her. Same with Karolina Krowecki, another helmet-cracker.”
“Yes, yes, quite the shake up.” Cecilia folded and stowed her Mars Ho duffel. “I suppose we should get used to it.”
On the floor, Leah contorted herself into some half-inverted twist that made Lori’s muscles twitch. Lori propped her pillow against the bunk frame and tried to get comfortable. She turned on her tablet and opened the first electronic document she came to.
The bunk door burst open again. Lori sighed. Women’s Bunk 1 was beginning to feel like an astronaut transit center.
“Lori Ridgway!” a male voice boomed, followed by April’s laugh. Leah gasped as she unwound herself and stood up.
“What the . . .” Lori’s eyes went wide when she looked up and saw Ric Vargas standing in a ridiculous strong-man pose just inside the doorway, his cartoon hero’s smile focused on her.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.” She watched in disbelief as he dropped his Mars Ho bag to the floor and strode purposefully toward her.
“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.” He reached for her arm and practically dragged her out of her bunk and to her feet.
“But we never even said hello.” She tried to step away from him, but he wrapped his huge arms around her and pulled her close. Before she understood what was happening, she found herself crushed against his chest with his mouth planted firmly on hers, his tongue seeking entry.
So she bit him.
Ric laughed as he released her. “Ah, my little firecracker. You be good now.” He winked at her, smacked her on the butt, then picked up his bag and strode out of the room.
Lori’s mouth hung open as she watched his muscles ripple beneath his jumpsuit. “What an ass.” She cleared her throat and sat back down on her bed. “I mean, what a complete and total jackass.”
Cecilia giggled. “The man knows how to make an entrance.”
“And how to make an exit, too.” April studied her tablet screen. “Okay, so that’s thirteen down with Ric Vargas gone. Irene would be upset about that. But, well, she’s out, too.”
Leah stretched her arms high over her head. “Tonight they’ll be getting drunk together in some seedy bar.”
April smiled. “Or getting it on back at The Ranch. Could give new meaning to the word de-briefing.” She tapped at her screen. “Fred Hurley’s out. Didn’t get a good look at him. Irene said he showed promise with all those sculpted muscles.”
“Promise of what, exactly?” Leah sat on her mat, stretched her legs out in front of her, and leaned forward to grasp her toes.
“We’ll never know. Oh, and Peter Sokolov. Now his dark, sullen silence will be forever a mystery.”
Cecilia sat on the bed by Lori’s feet and folded her hands in her lap. “I heard about what you did. You and Mark Lauren. That was good work. I’m sure the producers will notice.” Her voice hinted at a nonexistent intimacy.
Lori was feeling hungry and irritated, and it was a bad combination with Ric’s unwelcome kiss, the mass exodus of candidates, and the disorientation of the Mars Ho experience so far. She was in no mood for alliance building or whatever Cecilia might have in mind.
Lori picked up her tablet again, her eyes skimming over the digital words, sentence after sentence and page after page, without her brain registering any actual information. It might have been rocket engine specifications or the user manual for one of the fitness room’s exercise bikes.
“Mark Lauren’s still in,” April said.<
br />
Lori nodded and went back to her tablet, while Leah moved through a series of deep lunges on her yoga mat.
Cecilia leaned closer. “My husband, Oskar, and I, we’re practically guaranteed final spots.”
Lori didn’t look up. “How do you figure that?”
“Well, because we’re married. They want to send mated pairs to Mars. Colonists have to colonize . . .”
“With babies.” Lori winced at the unintentional flatness of her tone.
April sighed heavily and scooted deeper into her bunk.
“To provide stability, the foundation of a strong community,” Cecilia replied.
Lori squinted at her screen and wanted to smack herself when she realized she’d been skimming a technical manual for the airlock door.
“The colony might require polyamorous behavior,” Cecilia mused. “Purely for reproductive purposes.”
“There’s no proof of that!” April leapt up from her bed and nearly landed on Leah who was unwinding from a half-moon twist. “There’s nothing in any of the Mars Colony Program materials to suggest such a requirement.” Her breath rose and fell high in her chest.
Cecilia ran a hand through her short hair. She exuded an air of authority Lori wasn’t sure she deserved. “Naturally, they wouldn’t spell out something like that so explicitly. Something potentially controversial.”
Cecilia’s haughty voice grated on Lori’s nerves, but April relaxed. She seemed more confident now, but clearly something had set her on edge.
Cecilia sniffed and turned her smile toward Lori. “It will significantly improve your chances to partner with another strong candidate inside the competition, if you want a seat on the Mars ship.”
April shot Lori a warning glance, then grabbed her tablet and crawled back into her lower bunk. Leah rolled up her yoga mat.
Cecilia made a move to rest a hand on Lori’s ankle, but Lori pulled her knees to her chest to avoid the contact.
“I just wouldn’t want to see such a valuable candidate miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime,” Cecilia said.
Lori stiffened and glanced at April and Leah for help, but neither met her gaze. Was Cecilia coming onto her? Did she and her husband want Lori as some kind of romantic third wheel?
Lori couldn’t help the wary edge in her voice. “Okay. Thanks, I guess.”
Cecilia patted Lori on the knee before she could pull away again. “Think about it. Oskar and I are here to help.”
Lori pretended to go back to the airlock manual, then kept her sigh of relief quiet when Cecilia got up and strolled toward the bathroom.
Once the bathroom door closed with a sharp click, April darted across the floor and sat at the end of Lori’s bed.
“Dude!” April hissed. “I don’t know what that was about, but I suggest steering clear of that chick and her husband.”
“Yeah.” Lori almost laughed. The Mars Ho Candidate Habitat was about as artificial as an environment could be. Thirty-two strangers in a restricted space facing manufactured crises and pairing off on camera? But the biodome was still a close simulation of conditions on Mars.
To build a successful new home on another planet and establish an off-world foothold for humanity, the colonists would have to be friends, coworkers, and lovers. The selection team would be taking a hard look at how they got along with each other.
So April had her spreadsheet, and Cecilia was . . . What? Forging alliances? Playing matchmaker? Looking for some same-sex side action?
Lori wanted Mars. Growing up, she’d dismissed horses and dolls and superheroes in favor of glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom walls, and spent her nights pretending she was looking up at the sky from the Martian surface. Instead of the beach with her friends, Lori went to summer space camp. And red had always been her favorite color.
She didn’t have the military experience for the United Nations Space Corps, but she still applied anyway, four times, and was rejected. But then they announced the Mars Colony Program, and Lori made it in.
Mars was boiling in her blood, but she didn’t have a strategy for winning.
“Sure it’s a game.” April got up from Lori’s bed. “Just don’t let yourself be anybody else’s pawn.”
After breakfast—an unappetizing meal of powdered eggs, toast, and coffee—Lori sat down at the desk inside the dark confessional booth. With a large screen and keyboard laid out before her, the space was snug and intimate, the chair firm and supportive beneath her. Once the door closed, she was in a cocoon of black walls and pink noise, sheltered from the chaos and anxiety of the dome.
But she didn’t relax. That’s precisely what the producers wanted her to do. She was supposed to let her guard down in here, make herself vulnerable. But there were cameras in here, too.
She typed in her user name and password and the screen came alive with her Mars Ho contestant portal. There were filtered news headlines and recent sports scores—she assumed everything was carefully censored. She was surprised to see that the Mars Ho airlock episode had already aired. Lori couldn’t access the edited video that was shown to the world, but she could see some of the public reaction.
She was hailed as a hero and derided as a show-off, and everything in between. She didn’t want to get caught up in public perception, though at some point the audience would have a say in her fate. She navigated to her personal messages and smiled at the notes from her family and friends.
From her mother: Great job, honey! You look very professional and friendly! From her sister: You look really good! Try smiling a little more, so you look like you’re enjoying yourself?
Lori wanted to respond, but she couldn’t remember what her contract said about private messages. Most likely, all her communications were eligible fodder for public consumption.
There were some video messages, too. There wouldn’t be any real-time calls—not anymore. She’d had one last live chat with her mother and sister while she was in isolation at The Ranch, but there was an enforced time delay inside the MHCH to simulate conditions on Mars—except when the producers wanted live interaction.
Lori’s nephews had staged a thirty-second puppet show for her, and her neighbors sent video highlights of a barbecue-and-beer-fest they’d thrown in her honor. She started getting misty-eyed as she watched one clip after another of friends and family and well-wishing strangers, too, though she knew the footage had been carefully culled by the Mars Ho producers and presented in the most heart-stirring way possible.
Then she came across a video from Charlie. It was longer, just over a full minute. Charlie telling her how proud he was of her, that he hoped she was making new friends, that he believed in her. It was heartfelt and expressive, and surprising from Charlie. She watched it several times through.
Lori had already applied to Mars Ho when she and Charlie met, and she received her acceptance just a few months later. The timing alone meant the romance was over almost as soon as it started.
Charlie wasn’t her type. He was artistic and unfocused, floating through life without ambition. But it was easy with him. She could relax and not obsess over the upcoming competition or what it would mean to leave her family and her entire world behind. She didn’t have to worry about a future with Charlie, because there couldn’t be one.
She’d called things off the week before her Mars Ho survival training, and he’d let her go with grace.
His message played again on the screen, his face earnest and his voice clear as he professed his support and encouragement for the pursuit of her dream.
Had she made a mistake?
Lori leaned back in the chair, aware of the cameras hidden somewhere in the shadows. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should she respond? What could she say? Thanks for your kind words, Charlie. Too bad we’ll never see each other again, but have a nice life? She wasn’t even sure what his message meant to her. Mars Ho had turned her life upside down from the moment she submitted her application. Was any part of this experience authentic?
> The screen flickered and switched to a live picture of Hannah. “Lori? Lori, are you okay?”
Startled, Lori squirmed in her chair. She hoped no one would air that reaction.
“Just thinking. What can I do for you?” She kept her tone casual and polite. She hadn’t decided how friendly she wanted to be with the production team. Wasn’t it Hannah’s job to lull her into a comfortable security and then trick her into baring her soul for the cameras? That’s what they always did on Green Screen.
Hannah’s smile was bright and warm. The young producer was pretty, and she had an affability that invited Lori to get cozy and maybe reveal a secret or two—probably why Mars Ho had hired her.
“Nothing you need to do for me.” Hannah chuckled as if they were old friends catching up over tea and cookies. “I just thought you might want to talk? Or something? There’ve been some big changes inside the dome, after what happened . . .”
Hannah’s voice trailed off as her eyebrows lifted, a visual cue for Lori to fill in the details. Lori wasn’t biting.
“No, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” Lori’s tone was more clipped than she’d intended, and she felt a genuine pang when she saw Hannah’s smile dim.
“Okay, I was just . . .” Hannah checked over her shoulder and then leaned closer to the camera. “I just wanted to check in, because that all seemed so traumatic.” Hannah waited a beat, then lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “They didn’t expect so many people to scrub out. They’re trying to convince some of them to stay at The Ranch, you know, to try again with the next round of colony candidates.”
Lori frowned. Mars Ho candidates who quit were supposed to be let go immediately, and the second colony mission wasn’t supposed to launch for another two years. Who would want to hang around that long in medical isolation at The Ranch—away from family, friends, and just life—even for another shot at Mars?
“Some of them are really freaking out,” Hannah continued. “The candidates, I mean. They didn’t think . . . I don’t know, that it would be so real or dangerous, or something? We’re having to bring in counselors and everything.” She dropped her gaze. “So I wanted to check in with you, while you were in the booth, in private, in case you needed to talk things out.”
Mars Ho! (Mars Adventure Romance Series Book 1) Page 6