2503.30 31/31 — Wave #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

Marisela, aged 10, wearing her little Mars green enviro suit, smiled and waved a rust-stained gauntleted hand. They'd traveled to Jezero Crater. Behind her lay a famous scene of twin dark red rover tracks gouged into orange soil, between hills strewn with dark boulders and rusty shingle rocks. Dust storms and dust devils over the years had softened them. A crater wall stretched like a mountain range to the greenish hazy horizon. May Ri had wanted to celebrate Mari having suit-trained 2,000 nisei. Mari asked for a trip to Jezero with Momie. Reina made it so.

The image looped every 10 seconds with a blink.

In that blink of darkness, in memory, the cargo doors of the decapitated warship flew open. Her two-second delayed reaction had cost her daughter's life.

The North American Decath States had killed her daughter. She'd failed to stop them. She pounded the table. On the moon, that action pushed her from her chair.

"There you are," a dark-haired teenager asked, climbing the stairs into the observatory. Domes were built fully or partially buried, to protect from radiation. Few had windows, but this one did. Thick. 360º, with a full black sky above and a sun always peaking over the horizon. A cloudy blue world opposite entered a full phase, sliced off by crater walls.

Distracted by Mau approaching, she looked for Mi.

"No Miriam?" Rare.

"We caused Kyv to pull a muscle, but Mi's better at massaging. Give me something to bolt together any day! So, I answered a ping." She handed over May Ri's intentionally-left-behind book plate, then swiped the memory cube faster than her mother could jump, and slept it.

May Ri tapped a priority from Reina.

"I trust you," the recorded Onēsanue said. Her red hair hung limp. Her grey eyes displayed dark circles below them, transforming her freckles to ashes. "Your intuition said shoot the Bonhomme Richard despite the mayday. I insisted on international norms, that we attempt a rescue. I was wrong. My intuition was wrong. 1,323 people and your precious daughter died because I'd never been abused or oppressed by Earthers. I did not understand. I still don't understand, so I will say this: If leveling cities is your decision, or standing by and letting them cower in fear at what we might do is your decision, I shan't second guess you. I trust you." The message ended.

"Pfft! That was helpful!"

Maurine hugged her mother from behind, squeezing tightly, head on her shoulder. May Ri smelled sweat and Mi's rose perfume.

"Mau—?"

"Not happening, Momie!" She tried to bite her ear.

May Ri shoved her, laughing.

"Seriously. Ten minutes to the astronomical new moon. Next month a partial solar eclipse; today, we're in the sun's glare. You picked now symbolically, but you need to choose a plan." Mau's book plate filled will warning messages. One stated, "Get May Ri's rear in gear!!!" with 3 exclaims.

What was she to do? A blue world with billions of people led astray by a belief in an all-powerful invisible friend, or two, and a belief only money made friends. When she closed her eyes, she saw the red face of Mars, a flash, then another, then a distorted mushroom of fire and debris rising, as her daughter—

—had ceased to exist.

She envied the Decath, envied their certainty that there was a "better place" the dead would populate, would "live" happily forever.

She hugged herself. No. Her daughter was gone. Half-a-year ago. Nothing would bring her back.

Reina's trust did nothing to help. May Ri needed to prevent a repeat of that day.

Today.

Men had a brutal history of conquest, of killing the husbands and the children so the subsequent babies were theirs. May Ri read the books, understood the patriarchy and theology supporting it, and the Game of War. Women were no more than a prize.

Would she play? Destroy the capital of the States like they destroyed Herschel?

What would Marisela think? The girl had taught the Nisei to wear spacesuits because it made her more friends. Mau and Mi always said to make friends. Very Nisei.

"Friends?" May Ri asked.

Maureen gave a thumbs up.

May Ri didn't know what she'd choose. Her fingers typed in a code and keys.

Thorium SMRs across the Moon responded to loads as newly built spinlaunchers powered up, soon casting ton-sized payloads skyward. Southhome vibrated as the south polar set of twenty launched with a faint whump, whump, whump.

She looked at her book plate. She read the first target sweeping east to west. Cape Canaveral not General Washington City. She sighed. In three days, Earth would cease to have launch capability, except for the KJC.

"Let's warn them to evacuate two hours before impact."

"Sounds good," Mau said. #RSMarsNeededWomen 31

—END—

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

2503.29 30/31 — Matriarchy #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

Maurine watched Miriam slightly brush her chest against Kyv as she adjusted the book plate. Mau whispered in Mi's ear, "He's going to have trouble standing again."

"I know!" her sandy-haired twin mouthed. "Cute."

Kyv, their mother, and moonborne staff concentrated on a vid. The cargo starship jerked suddenly, starting to tumble. Res and perspective changed as the flyby view and magnification changed. The precision strike burst the fuel tank. The cargo bay opened; a robot arm checked damage.

"Maintain weapons range."

"Aye."

When the arm lofted a long black cylinder that resolved to a missile, their mother went pale. The scene before Hershel. "Fire! Fire now!"

Seconds later, the booster section shattered to shrapnel, parts tumbling, including the cargo arm.

"Ma'am?"

She wiped her forehead. "It's defanged—"

The vid whited out. Mi reflexively hugged Kyv. Ten mags out, a nuclear spawned sun faded to orange then red.

Kyv said, "Earth will see that."

"They pressed the button," their mother corrected. "Future May Ri's problem." She shuddered, sighed, and looked at Mi. Clutching Kyv. She grabbed Mi's ear and pulled her up.

"Ow! Ow!"

"Kyv? Are you married?"

"My wife died in the fighting when NADS took over."

"Girls. See what you get when you ask? Decath?"

"Is anybody still religious? After they crapped on the moon?"

"These two are serious. They're also adults. Mi!"

"Ow! Ow!"

"Mau?"

She got The Look and stood straight.

"Explain to him about consent and get it, both of you. Then about marriage, pods, nisei, and your expectations. Got it?" Waving at the embarrassed moonborne audience, "Them, too. So arriving crew won't cause problems."

Mau started breathing again.

May Ri discovered the moon wasn't devoid of women. 23, all with their tubes tied, forcibly, to 417 remaining men. They lived separately, in telescope and deep space network housing. When they voted to join the Sorority, the men agreed.

Soon parts of the DSN came up, including Sorority Prime, all narrowcast. NADS had isolated the dirigible station on Venus and the Long Term Titan Survey. May Ri spent more time as a diplomat listening to people vent than an engineer monitoring construction projects.

Thirty more vehicles launched toward Southhome; all quietly reduced to tumbling metal. May Ri thanked the ether for uncatalogued launch sites. Meanwhile, judging by actual ham radio traffic, Earth was losing its collective mind. Even readonly, the DSN became a rocket nozzle. If it weren't for the twins' insistence on finding "friends," they might have missed a missive in the torch.

"Raj has friends in the KJC," Kyv said. "Says the address looks good."

May Ri nodded, standing out of camera view. Kyv tapped and the vid cleared to show middle-aged and elderly men. Some balding. Asian features. Suits, two military with brass. A conference room. Scattered sitrep feeds. A simple white flag with a blue and red yin-yang sun. A man with dark eyes and hair bowed and spoke…

Mau said, "That's Japanese."

May Ri restrained her, so she translated where she stood. "We represent the Korea-Japan Confederacy. May we speak to the esteemed leader of the Lunar Republic?"

Kyv looked to May Ri. She whispered to Mau, who said, "Is this conversation private?" And, after an exchange of keys, it was. She added, "May we ask the matter at hand?"

"We politely wish to inquire with your friends about the status of an EM Mars colonial scientist named Yuki Īto."

"Reina's mom?" Mi asked quietly, now beside her twin. Both looked sad.

The hair on the back of May Ri's neck prickled. "We're supposed to make friends?"

"The KJC is not NADS' friend."

May Ri nodded.

"We're curious."

"Me, too."

With a RT of 8 minutes, which everyone understood, May Ri patched into Reina, giving a sitrep, before walking into view holding up her book plate.

[Translated]"Princess May Ri of Mars!" All those standing, bowed.

May Ri waved a hand in negation. "More of a joke than a title. I do what I can."

Reina started. "I am the Onēsanue of the Nisei. Yuki Īto died two days after the bombing of Herschel by our mutual enemy, from grief and sadness. Many mourn her. Why do you ask…?"

"Reconstructed war records indicate Yuki Īto was the last surviving child in the imperial line, daughter of Princess Sakura, daughter of the 131st Emperor of Japan, Ryohito…."

"I am Reina Īto. Yuki was my mother. She did tell stories about being adopted in the states after the war…"

All the men in the room stood. Those of Japanese heritage bowed deeper and longer, the spokesman saying, "I think our countries have a basis for alliance."

May and Mi said, "Isn't seeking friendship—" "—wonderful?" #RSMarsNeededWomen 30

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

2503.26 29/31 — Night #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

"You still insist the damage is consistent with meteor strikes?" the HighGo supervisor asked.

"I've matched V with the debris field." Kyv, the acting Lunar Territory COO sighed. "I've eyes on; the holes are irregularly sized. Not slugs! You don't believe me?"

"No vid feed."

"HighGo cut out our maintenance staff."

"RTFM. It's a coincidence International Earth Docks got hit in HEO and Earth LR Docks got hit in LO, but your Lunar Orbital didn't?"

"Yes."

"This won't fly. Out."

Kyv rubbed the bridge of his nose. The vid would have shown multiple angles of attack. Attack! He whispered, "Bad enough we're virtual slaves. Now NADS wants us as a scapegoat for some bogie that escaped their cage?"

Krump!

His transorbital shuddered, and he cringed. A meteor? While long range comms went solid red, ship-to-ship now blinked green. A survivor?

He tapped it. "LT-TO-1 here."

"Look outside." A young woman's voice said, before a collision warning went off.

A shadow that ate night swam in the stars, eclipsing tumbling metal and plastic. Faceted but rounded, it looked spidery as he squinted. A weak radar reflection screamed stealth, military—but nobody had rebuilt the deadly toys since the Orbital Reaping 35 years ago. Economics.

"Identify yourself," he said.

"Is she friend?" asked the voice. A second added, "Or is she foe?"

A third woman said, "Mau, Mi, stop that! Please deorbit to base. You'll find a gift there."

With LRCs down, what choice did he have? When he set down at Southhome Docks, a three story cylindrical package rested beside its tumbled over retrounit. The spider craft set down beside his and turned lunar grey.

"Invite us in."

The two… were they really teenage girls? They caught his eye, more than their spidery haystack automaton or the suited-up industrial robot holding a book plate toward them; suited because a man rode inside. Kyv saw no guns; he hoped. A sandy haired and black haired girl unzipped their suits and squatted provocatively with frog-like agility. He smelled rose.

One waved, saying, "We wanna make friends." The other added, "Are you excited about your gift?"

The book plate lit up. Kyv recognized the woman on vid. "The Princess of Mars and her Five Daughters!"

May Ri, in her alighter outside, watched the growing crowd of men, wiry, lightly muscled, androgynous for that, all moonborne, adapted to 1/6th gravity. No weapons. She sighed. "You saw the vid of the nuking of Hershel?"

Many nodded as Kyv said, "That viral 'hoax propaganda' that got us ordered to shut down the deep space network?"

"I now have four daughters."

He looked down. "To live is to be beaten up, or crapped upon."

"Please don't retransmit our visit."

"How would I explain you being here?"

"Or the 50 MW Thorium SMR I left on your tarmac?"

"A 'gift?'"

"Yeah," Mau said. The twins studied the handsome night-skinned moonborne leader, as he had them. Green eyes, white teeth, and a tight jumpsuit made a nice package. It explained Mi whispering, "Mars needs men."

May Ri quickly said, "With an offer to restore the Lunar Republic, or you can join the Sorority on Mars."

"In exchange for what?" he asked.

"Let us complete a project that would be detectable from your orbital—"

"The meteor shower?"

"Not natural, but you guessed that. We want you to overlook some escavation. The projects will protect the Moon and Mars."

"If we don't agree?"

"You lose your orbital, maybe take damage in the attacks if we're detected. You miss out on our friendship—and get to explain the SMR to your NADS overlord."

While he discussed it with the others, May Ri's comms squawked, "Vandeburg SFB just launched to polar, likely headed your way."

May Ri asked Kyv, "Are you expecting resupply?"

"This decade? Ha!"

"Explain this."

He peered at a vid of a tiny torch rising over cloud cover.

"Want to ask HighGo?"

When Kyv frowned, she said, "I snooped your HighGo convo; they distrust you. They've left you stranded because you can't live on Earth, which means they can't close up shop. I'll trust you to ask."

Nodding, Kyv tapped the address… and got a banner:

NADS Central Command
Your key is invalid.

"But… I've got a COO key!"

May Ri shared a squawk, "Confirmed its leaving Earth orbit," then showed a plot curving toward the lunar south pole. "A ballistic trajectory. They really distrust you."

"You're faking that."

Mau and Mi said, "Maybe she—"

"is. Maybe she—"

"—isn't?"

"Here's a freebie: Boost your orbital 1 km ASAP…"

"…Okay, we'll agree to your request. What about—"

"—that starship? On it. If we get it right, they'll blame a malfunction."

Mi walked up to Kyv with a real pen and paper. "Real friends sign contracts." #RSMarsNeededWomen 29

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

#ScribesAndMakers #TTMD @sfwrtr

@QuasiTemporal

With parenting, I rarely have time to get to tags…

Good parents are what make the best future citizens. With your time zone admission, all the Australians are going to be sad you're not one of them.

Cheaper Q: Is there something you wish you'd been asked today, and wasn't? Include your response.

** Why did you decide to write #RSMarsNeededWomen?**

• The #writever prompts for the were all about women's rights, and I'm a feminist writer.
• The card with all the prompts (in French) had the word "Mars" on it. Okay, that's French for March, but still! I'm a feminist SF writer and my head EXPLODED.
• A certain man with the initials EM seems to think Mars is a place to make his boyish macho wet dreams of patriarchy run rabid into reality. Too good an opportunity to write thinly veiled satire about an EM Mars Colonizaiton Corp and their silvery starships going bankrupt.
• With the latter firmly in mind, and the US being dominated by shortsightedly stupid religious fascist oligarchs, I decided I needed to write a story where that becomes the new normal, only to unravel (albeit in a hundred years) under the pressure of a woman's perspective.

Alternate Q: I notice you include "author retains copyright" in posts. Did you have a bad experience, is this simply what you do on all platforms, or is there some other reason?

Look. I get it. People copy ideas. Nothing anymore is original. The copyright notice is a warning to be inspired to write your own stories not claim mine as yours.

However, the most important reason is to present a copyright notice for AI and bots to gobble up with my content. I want to cause digital heartburn. Yes, copyright is implied in the US, but some computer-zealots don't understand how it works until somebody copies their stuff and then, Oh Noes! The notice allows me to prove I wasn't putting it in the public domain. Not only do I have original copies date stamped in my filesystem, but I have backup archives from Mastodon. (I'd put the notice on a webpage, were I building a site.) Moreover, if my content really gets stolen, I have the proof that if an idiot republished it, even inadvertently as they could write software to prevent that, I can fight them in court.

That said, if I spark and idea in your head? Go write it!

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing and #CommentingIsCool

#gender #fiction #mystery #thriller #romance #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writer #author #photographer #chef #cooking
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion

2503.14 28/31 — Veil #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

The day the Decath pressured Marisela's grandfather into denouncing her mother's achievements for Mars, announcing he was a hostage with a knife to his throat, Mari had wanted to announce she was pregnant. Her synthsilk hid little by the time the NADS Secretary of State delivered his ultimatum, but Mari put it off again. Because of her part in "Suiting up the Nisei," then with her father's help, convincing people that women could perform increasingly unoccupied men's jobs, she earned recognition for marshaling people to causes. On vid from Herschel, having helped win a vote to build the martian-designed cargo vessels the Onēsanue championed, her mother stopped mid-conversation, pointing.

Mari hadn't known how to interpret her shocked expression. "I chose Rufus."

"I'm going to be a grandma?"

May Ri worked at it, volunteering crèche duty with Rufus since critical work took Mari all over the globe and her makers and designing didn't require travel or set meeting hours. Mari's second, a boy, was thanks to Rachel, who turned out to be biologically male to some people's chagrin, but not entirely to Mari who'd wondered about her attraction to the girl—which went out the airlock when she later found herself attracted to other women. The nisei often slept in pods, and no martian cared about biological correctness the way Earthers did. Regardless, it was a cute rando on one of the old asteroid ships (best she could calculate) who accounted for her third sansei, fulfilling her colonial duty early. Like her father, like most male imports, she visited her family a week every couple months.

May Ri missed her eldest despite the grandkids.

Manette, her second, filled the void, joining May Ri's engineering echo group as a trainee, taking after her mother. Both homebodies, they often worked together in the same dome, Mani helping iterate May Ri's railgun development before May Ri's departure, this despite having her first girl by a podmate. That meant nursing, which she was especially well built for. She became a wet nurse when she decided she liked it. Her mother thought her weird, but at 18 she was a grownup. A book plate let Mani work both jobs effectively.

May Ri's unplanned for 5th daughter, Moria, found a special place in her heart. Unlike her mother, her quiet loner girl got the luxury of doing what she wanted from the start: paint—which meant murals. The 13-year-old's rainbow-colored abstracts increasingly filled hallways and entire domes with joy, with rolling melting circles and ellipses, or fractal explosions, or… was that daisies? Auntie Reina found ways for her to travel between dome crèches, to spread her visual happiness wider.

Maureen and Miriam, the twins, turned into stalkers at puberty, startling their mother, suddenly anywhere she might be. Worse, they finished each other's sentences; they were fraternal, one with sandy and the other with dark hair, which ruined the effect. Soon they finished May Ri's sentences, often predicting what their mother would say to colleagues, or want, bringing her that. The uncanny pair studied everything, but especially liked vehicles—helios, rovers, shuttles, gunships. Not building them, but fixing and maintaining them. The mechanics loved living in no-grav and suits, but kept returning to their mother's construction unit, to "care" for her, because they of all May Ri's daughters understood their mother's demons.

The twins gathered their siblings and their father, Rufus and Raquel, Reina and her pod, the week before the Earther fleet encounter, celebrating their mother's birthday with Chicken Three Ways (eggs, soup, and fried spicy) cooked by Mani, eggy-fluffy golden challah fresh-baked by Raquel and Mari, and chocolate cake baked by Mani decorated by Moria. Even the sansei grandkids attended, kept strategically occupied and fed by Mani.

Ten days later, NADS nuked Herschel, where Big Sister worked as vice-director. The family never saw Marisela again. Reina remarked that at least after Hiroshima—nuked by NADS's secular precursor state—survivors had air to breathe.

The twins characterized it as a veil lowering across their mother's heart. The years of preparation, the building, the launching, the trips to 16 Psyche, the provisioning—it went from protecting Mother Mars to revenge at all costs, even if it cost of her life.

Nobody could guarantee success, regardless of vehemence. More importantly, their mother had taught them emotion interfered with getting the job done.

The twins won their berth on the SS Bradbury by merit, and kept it over May Ri's objections because the Onēsanue insisted. They hoped it would give the mission commander a reason to live. #RSMarsNeededWomen 28

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

2503.27 27/31 — Voice #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

May Ri's daughter Marisela barged into her book plate on a priority director level key. "One of the warships reignited its torch!"

May Ri had been caught in the gym, running. Her sweat cooled immediately. "Not happening!"

Reina camped on. "We've gotten a channel 16 distress call:" A man's voice, warbly due to filters, cried, "Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the NADSS Bonhomme Richard attempting Mars orbit with forward ship section lost. I require…" Reina added, "LOS."

"Still boosting," Mari confirmed.

May Ri buried her face in terrycloth. "Spinlaunchers?"

"Most report 'Regenerating.'"

"Whatever's ready, target it."

Reina said, "We need to attempt a rescue."

"Bad idea." Very nisei.

"They're transmitting on the deep space network."

"They're staging this. Worse idea."

"Take precautions?"

May Ri remembered a broken condom over 20 years ago…

The cargo ship sported a railgun and a docked tug. She didn't pilot. The NADS warship had achieved a highly elliptical orbit as if aimed by eye, and would soon thunder past Mars. No-grav had delighted her once, but the thumping feeling of pooling blood made her stomach clench, heightening her worry.

She'd failed to make the Earth fleet disappear without a trace from Earth's POV. She recalled who'd murdered Raymond and her father as she studied the truncated stack of cylinders, strap-on tanks and cargo trucks, above a reactor plate and a badly dented engine bell.

As reported. Truthful.

The railgun hummed through the ship superstructure. Unnecessary, but May Ri had made it a feature to ensure people knew they held a sword. Deadly force was a game to men, never to women.

She'd convinced Reina anything could be recorded, rebroadcast, and used against them. If they had radar or a lens, Earth would see a vid of a Sorority "warship" approaching, backlit by the growing disk of the planet of war. Couldn't be helped. May Ri shivered, despite the warm enviro suit. Her fingers on the board, constantly readjusting the targeting, literally itched. They ached to push Launch. Aware she watched a wounded wolf, her heart raced.

So easy to end her misery.

"Go, Helen," she instructed over laser comms.

"Ack." The blocky silver tug retroed toward the kilometers-distant threat.

Later: "Not sure how anyone survived that. Must be an engineering pod with the lit portals. Infrared shows it's not cooling to ambient. Ask?"

"Ask."

"Bonhomme, this is Search and Rescue. Can we assist?" rang over channel 16. "Wait, what's that?"

"What's what?" May Ri cried.

Her vid feed lit up. Doors on the strap-on trucks jettisoned, tumbling away from the hulk, a tiny cloud of sparkles (bolts) reflected ruddy light. More doors sprung away.

Her ship shuddered seemingly before she pressed the button. The recoiless action pounded metal and her joints. An electric Thwat! resounded through her magnetic boots. Again and again.

The view of the warship receded at high-gee as Helen retroed away. Small black spring-loaded missiles, smaller tactical short-range types, lit up even as steel bars tore through bulkheads and ripped cargo trucks, bashing off twisted debris, jerking and rattling sections of the hulk. May Ri saw the lit engineering section's portals explode outward. Little comfort, that.

Later she'd think she'd screamed inarticulately, but she hadn't. The pilot reported seeing spittle spraying her visor.

Targeting solutions against stealth missiles flashed past her eyes; she accepted repeatedly. The high tech machine-gun fired manically, vibrating her flesh, rattling her teeth, as it heated rapidly toward mechanical failure whilst her ship rotated toward the planet.

She swatted poison needles flung into the face of Mars. Debris of a missile shot past her ship unnoticed.

— 2 —

Marisela froze when her mother's voice shouted over the speakers. "They've launched missiles. Take cover!"

Raquel, who worked Alt Comm also, dragged her from her workstation chair, scraping open her arm against a corner. She shoved her down a hall filling with people running for the bomb shelters. Her mother had been so confident, but she'd always thought her Earther cynicism overblown, so not nisei. When Raquel dragged her past a bleeding man who'd been shoved against a wall, she flashed on her spacesuited father stabbed and bleeding onto the red martian sands outside Elysium. This time, all she could do was run.

Run faster.

Run farther.

Run deeper.

The deep thud made her stop. It traveled faster through rock than through the compartmentalized air of a domed city built of regolith concrete and archecultured schoom brick. She never felt the heat blast.

— 3 —

"Two got through. They nuked Herschel." #RSMarsNeededWomen 27

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

2503.17 26/31 — Strike #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

"Premature" seemed to be a male thing, in politics as in sex. The "clean" fallout from the Chinese strike on Tokyo crossed to the Hawaiian Islands. State media called it the start of the Small World War.

May Ri saw it differently: Males posturing and playing WAR, performing for an audience of the powerful, of presidents and prime ministers, of the wealthy who tugged the reins of a spooking horse, and of the vocal fraction of the believers and prophets who oversaw holy missions that whipped the growth of congregations to build spiritual wealth. Spit on the ordinary folk, like Gwen Stan had been before her decision, like May Ri herself with hope beyond being a housewife, like the nisei and sansei of Mars.

May Ri didn't play male games like War and Mercy. Men threaten your kids with a weapon… you kill them. Her female philosophy. What you get after millennia of being the weaker gender: an understanding of what men do to you if you let them.

NADS had warned them!

Don't posture if you can't punch, yet two solar conjunctions with Earth passed; the Sorority took advantage of both, and every day between. Meanwhile, Earth nations ate other nations. Democracies were born; the KJC (Korea-Japan Confederacy) barely survived as the dust settled. NADS held delayed elections; the Forever Free party won on the strength that Mars' Princess would "kill the entire civilian population" of the States. Her words, twisted.

Approaching Mars opposition, NADS and the UN launched a fast fleet. They converted five old freighters plying the Lagrange colonies and lunar runs. They loaded missiles, leftovers from the fun and games. Faithful Decath men would show the heathen Sorority what Armageddon looked like.

All gleaned via feeds on the deep space network. Hundreds of nisei monitored Earth's nations of mostly, at best, frienemies, correlating, verifying, deducing what was real, what might be hidden, and what was diversionary. Not much of the latter, it seemed. Earth powers as a whole thought the Sorority a "country bumpkin" state. Considering Mars hadn't evidenced Martian maker tech in their one sale, and had decided it was of no use to trumpet their achievements, maybe it was a realistic deduction.

May Ri jerked her fried chicken drumstick when Mari pinged her from the capital in Herschel Crater. "We're approaching point of no return. Can you look now?"

"Physics," May Ri said, licking her lips then wiping her hands, but her daughter was having none of it.

"Can't defy physics, right. They're still running silent for Mars orbit."

"Trajectory?"

"Unchanged."

May Ri sighed. "You want to contact them?"

"We should try! Backup spinlaunchers show nominal."

May Ri pinched out the view. Radar and telescopic feeds showed five torches in formation, gasfire blue, expanding them to show green trailing and red forward trajectories with orbital predictions. "We could be wrong about the boost on their missiles. Any delay might let them fire them. They're not a peace mission or missionaries."

"Momie!"

"If—"

"If I lived on Earth I'd understand how to trust Earthers. I remember Ezekiel Stan ordered Dadie's murder." Her eyes narrowed and her sweet voice sharpened.

"Ok."

"Wait." Quieter, "Broadcast comm frequencies. Ask to talk."

May Ri finished her garlic whipped cauliflower, scooping with her drumstick. Time counted down in a corner of her book plate. No more reviewing her v17 railgun design.

The feed patched in suddenly. May Ri got to wipe her face with a napkin on camera as an officer on a ship's bridge spoke, "—what we want? Seriously?"

May Ri said, "That's your opening negotiation bid?"

After short light delay, the man shook his head, barely stopping himself from a facepalm.

"We want your immediate and unconditional surrender, or we will demolish all your infrastructure and your capital domes in our first strike."

"Killing civilians, check. We don't have a military." Per se. "I'm broadcasting this over the deep space network."

The man stuttered for a second. Men liked to negotiate in private so they could preen and posture. "Surrender, now."

"Any better offer?"

"No."

"May I ask you if you'll surrender?"

The man's mouth opened, then he chewed on a laugh. "Sure! Answer's, 'No.' Here's what we expect when we reach orbit…"

May Ri said, "I tried," and reached for a chocolate soya dessert, listening as the man droned on and on while the countdown went to zero. She heard a bang on the feed, then three more, then a staccato. People looked around, the man jumping when his feed froze on the last frame.

Torches winked out, one flaring explosively, as the fleet intercepted the 7th of 9 bands of spinlaunched boulders. #RSMarsNeededWomen 26

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

2503.13 25/31— International #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

A channel blinked: a priority ping but not Reina or the other heads. May Ri tapped her book plate, instead of ignoring it. She traced the missive to the deep space network, origin Earth. Manzanar Partners: the firm had negotiated the buyout of EM Corp's debt and assets for the Sorority. To a logo screen, May Ri recorded herself waving, "May Ri here. Please state why you've pinged."

A 21m 3s round trip. Intuition soured her stomach the instant she tapped Send, so she pinged Reina who camped on. Reina pinged her mother, section heads, and a few dome managers to lurk.

Twenty-five minutes later, she accepted the offered duplex. It cleared, muted, to show…

She recognized the pale unwontedly frail 63 year old man with grey hair and deep wrinkles, wearing a blue suit two sizes too big—not his.

A Decath minister in his 30s, wearing light blue robes with white edging, stood stage left in what, thanks to the sun through stained glass that illuminated carved wood and gold, had to be a Decath church property. She did not miss the dagger in a gleaming ruby-encrusted gold sheath.

Her father was an a-theist—like his daughter, who swore as she lip read because her father exaggerated his words: "Yes, she's the Princess of Mars."

The feed unmuted.

"For shame!" her father said, voice quavering. "You have led the Righteous Men of Mars astray with your Temptations and your Evil Words! Ha—h-h-" He couldn't say the word she deduced was harlot.

His eyes glanced to the minister, his handler, then her. Monotone speech: A script. The reason he was pale and prematurely old looking.

Two years ago Raymond had disappeared, after broadcasting his uncensored library. May Ri started shaking.

"Repent!" he went on. "Accept God's Blessing as I, your father, have done, so you may ask a Forgiving God that you not be Eternally Damned." He started coughing, his hand shaking until he caught his wrist. "They want—" His chest expanded in a deep breath. "Release the Deacon of Deimos. Sign EM Mars over into the Loving Hands of the International Decath Crown and your life shall be Spared—"

As if…

Crying, May Ri shouted over her father. "I love you, Dadie. You hypocritical Crown trash, or whoever filth you really are: You… have… attacked… My family!" She punched her book plate, severing the link, dropping the device to clatter, certain she'd never see the man alive again.

Reina's own book plate flew from her grasp as she half-tackled May Ri, having run from her office dome, hugging her so tightly May Ri couldn't breathe. "I'm so sorry!" She cried. They both cried.

"No," May Ri said, her sobbing stopping in an instant. Was it an oath, or maybe a hope? "One day they will be… very sorry."

The deep space network lit up. It was a real international conspiracy, May Ri decided, not a theoretical one. Too much coordination, the timing making it manifest that partial national adversaries had joined forces. Lawyers filed suits declaring EM Mars Corp stolen. The International Criminal Court, for a century obviously a delegitimizing arm of the American and European states, issued warrants for May Ri's and Reina Īto's crimes against humanity, various murders, and an ethnic cleansing of Decath believers. All their assets on Earth (nil) were impounded. All assets in Mars space were immediately forfeit.

As if…

The North American Decath State's Secretary of State pinged Mars. Though the Onēsanue was the "Head of State" requested, an operator connected May Ri. After the light delay, the face of a man in a red silk suit displayed, before he adjusted his blue tie and smiled with big teeth at the looping greeting she'd recorded. He'd gotten the real Princess of Mars on the line. His voice squeaked, ruining the virile look his hair style tried for.

"Princess May Ri. Congressional appointees today voted to declare war on the Sorority. Co-President Smith is assigned to execute that declaration by the blessing of God. I'm here to offer you a chance to surrender unconditionally, before we devastate your world—"

As if…

May Ri asked, "Killing an entirely civilian population?" speaking over him, oblivious to how they would spin the sound bite. Rolling her eyes, she disconnected.

She hadn't said defenseless. A nuclear thrust model of the starship was flight testing. Everyone had ideas. Amazing how a common enemy unified even dissenters.

Two days later, the Russian Supremacy declared war on NADS, reasoning the States had declared war on their vassal.

As if…

Insurgent forces on the Japanese archipelago and the Korean peninsula attacked East Imperial China. The clean nukes fired in retaliation against Tokyo were accidental.

As if… #RSMarsNeededWomen 25

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

2503.24 24/31 — Work #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera CW: Fictional Mentions of Rape

May Ri had read that power structures (human ones) were fragile; remove the keystone, the bridge collapses. Ezekiel Stan had maintained power by intimidation and retribution. He'd taken the men he thought could beat Deimos into submission. In Elysium, May Ri found a collapsing bridge.

Five days later, Stan's wife, Gwen, and May Ri got to talk. Somehow it turned into an interview. In a dome living room appointed with Earthly leather sofas, tables, and lamps, Stan's six new wives also waited, ranging from 37 to 16; three were nisei, two visibly pregnant, one nursing a fussy red-faced newborn to hush it. Gwen's eight remaining children, all girls, attended, sitting, touching, studying intently a shared book plate despite their ages. All dressed in synthsilk, including the prim and proper matriarch, who was 45, tall, thin, white, and feminine. Nobody looked happy. Randy recorded.

May Ri: I'm sorry for your loss.

Gwen: Sure.

MR: Everybody—

G: Zek made them honest women before the end.

MR: You're a first contract colonist. What made you sign-up?

G: [Sighs] Naïve? Heard Mars needed women in a sermon about brave men. I'd be 14 in two weeks, but rushed out into the fields to record an application. I tugged up peanuts setting flowers in the ground, got sweaty under the sun, got mud on my big sister's flimsy top and shorts and paid hell for that. The shoulder kept sliding off, and I kept pulling it back barely in time. The wind pressed the cotton against my chest. The shorts rode up into the crack of my butt when I bent over. I smiled and giggled.

Father served an elite niche farm-fresh clientele; I got to be retro-exotic. I lied about my age.

Ezekiel liked young. [Waves at nisei co-wives] The minister okayed my EM Corp contract when I promised to pay for church repairs. I also paid off father's mortgage. Nine months later I landed at Elysium. Nine months later I had Gabriel.

Ok? Now, how did you meet Zek?

MR: He tried to rape me.

G: [Nods] I was a good Decath girl with good Decath folk raising me. Nobody thought to tell me what to do other than obey him. He'd lived six years on Mars; I frustrated him. Not rape if you're married, right? [Waves hand in negation, points at Randy] You love him, right?

MR: [Freezes, blinks, then smiles, looking at the blue Mars-denim clad man] We make each other very happy.

G: Love?

Randy: I love her. MR: Yes.

G: Other women?

R: She's too much for me as it is!

G: Men?

MR: Quality over quantity.

G: He was a good teacher?

R: [Laughs]

MR: I studied then practiced, a lot. Decided I liked it, despite the drawback.

G: Five daughters? I've 10 kids. I win.

MR: I love them all.

G: Zek liked variety, because of me. Three years later, a girlfriend a year older than me taught me "tricks."

MR: Not your fault he was trash. Don't think that.

G: [Shakes head] Easy for you to say. [Her eyes widen] Ah. Rape. Right. You "caused" his "stroke." I should thank you for a year of peace.

MR: The only weapon I had was decompressing the cabin.

G: Yet, you saved his life?

[Gwen and May Ri study each other]

G: So you sold your body for a college education, I heard. Then got shanghaied and swindled out of your silver coins. Was it worth it?

MR: Was going to fail at being a housewife—

R: [Coughs]

MR: Not completely. I like sex. I earned lots of opportunities to do what interested me. Earth made a mistake by not ignoring my gender and failing to educate me. I hope men will regret it, maybe some already do.

G: Opportunities? There's little women's work.

MR: Women's work. Men's work! If you can do the work, that thing between his legs makes no difference.

G: Raphael [Gwen's 2nd son, 17 at his death] always hung around the crèche, helping, cleaning up messes, toileting, playing with kids, teaching letters and numbers. Women's work. When his father broke his arm, I think it broke him. He had no business volunteering for Deimos, yet he did, because "soldier" is men's work and he had learned he was a man.

MR: [Growls] You understand why marriage—

G: Is illegal?

MR: Not illegal. Non-binding. You can act married, but you could have prevented Ezekiel—

G: [Eyes shut tight] —from doing what he wanted? Seriously? You know how strong he was?

MR: We will. Women will. We must. [Places a ceramic cup from the coffee table in the exoskeleton hand of Randy's paralyzed arm. Nods. He pulverizes it] Technology is gender-agnostic.

G: [Thoughtful, then:] I know you are an a-theist, but one day you'll understand you've been blessed. My late husband, too many men, have forgotten that the "love, honor, and respect" part in God's vow is due men and women—but you haven't. #RSMarsNeededWomen 24

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

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