Life After Mercury: Life After Mars Series, #3

By Andrea J. Graham

Now seventeen, Gloria looks forward to celebrating that she remains cancer-free five years after defeating her brain tumor. But her farming community on the Martian Frontier has been under siege for five years, and they've run out of vital imports. Worse, the whole colony is in the path of a deadly dust storm. And the enemy putting them under siege sets a trap that threatens to wipe out Gloria's marriage to Holter, which isn't legally finalized until twenty. As-is, they struggle to adjust to their roles in marriage, miss their old roles as "bros forever," and Holter never got over losing her sister to celibacy. When Gloria's life on Mars shatters, her smartglasses also break. Her only hope of at least repairing her AI is a trip to Earth that she'd never return from.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Reignburst Books
• Release date: Mar 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393679219

Andrea J. Graham

Andrea Graham studied creative writing and religion at Ashland University, has been envisioning fantastic worlds since age six, and has been writing science fiction novels since she was fourteen. Bear Publications released her book, Avatars of Web Surfer, which she wrote with three co-authors. She is the wife of author Adam Graham and edits his novels, including Tales of the Dim Knight and Slime Incorporated. Her own publishing imprint, Reignburst Books, released the Web Surfer Series and the Life After Mars Series. Find her as an author at christsglory.com and as an editor at povbootcamp.com. Andrea and Adam live with their dog, Rocky, and their cat, Bullwinkle, in Boise, Idaho. They're adopting their first child.

Book preview

Chapter 1

SHADES OF BLUE EMANATED in Mars’ scarlet sky from the sun. The small white orb sank low over the horizon. Chief Petty Officer Fe-deric-a Roberta Fowler Cruz de Sloan slipped off alone. Behind her, the other cadets chattered. She still felt like a Gloria but few still called her that.

Gloria strode in short leaps across Mars’ barren, darkening landscape. The light would rage another hour before it went gently into the night.

Strange time for an intercultural relations exercise. No doubt it was school hours for their partners. Even in 2089, Americans expected the galaxy to revolve around them. Ha. The States were but the old country that many families had left four to five decades ago, hers included.

Wind kicked up red dust off the rocky, dead landscape as twilight spread. The white orb vanished under the horizon but the blue hues remained. She shivered in her orange pressure suit and clear helmet. It got fatally cold on Mars after sunset. Apricot Pond Outpost was near the equator, and it’d barely gotten above freezing out here.

What are you wearing? The teen girl behind her spoke with a thick American accent.

Gloria spun and eyed the dark-skinned, plump Earther teen her age. Tiny braids hugged her round face. Must be Gloria’s intercultural relations exercise partner. The Earther girl wore real denim jeans, a gray tank top, and hot pink nail polish.

A tight military bun confined Gloria’s long, black locks. It’d just barely fit in her helmet. Her sleek orange pressure suit squeezed every curve of her body. Gloria held out her hand. Hi, I’m Chief Fe-deric-a Fowler. What’s your name?

Tyrese. She stared sidelong at Gloria, her head and hands pulled back. This is virtual reality. Why are you in a space suit?

It’s Mars walk gear. She pointed at the gray compound connected to two huge geometric domes, one inside of the other. Pine-maples and fruit trees filled the outer dome. Only our cages’ air is breathable and pressurized. I take real Mars walks, so I’d best practice good habits in this live streaming feed webcast.

Do you mean a live cast? You’re so weird, said the AI operating Tyrese’s avatar to reduce the lag times. Three satellites relayed between the EarthNet and the MarsNet.

Warmth broke the illusion of cold. Gloria cleared her throat. Also, I’m not in a VR. I’m using augmented reality contacts and my phone. She waved at the earbud-sized device in her left ear. Her phone provided a Brain-Computer Interface. It’s connected to Apricot Pond’s mainframe, which is intelligent and married.

For real? Y’all let crazy folk marry computers?

Face warm, Gloria groaned. Sorry about the jargon. I’m a tech major. An AI is ‘married’ when a tech officer installed two copies of the AI on the AI’s servers, to protect users from data loss. Our married AI has a non-matching serial codes error. Due to that, it’s separate individuals, Ensign Derrick Jacobson and Chief Juana Jacobson. They insist she is his unmarried sister.

Why? Tyrese’s avatar asked, too innocently. Juana herself controlled it for Tyrese.

Gloria squirmed. Derrick and Juana are marrying users, which is more jargon, sorry. An AI ‘marrying a user’ is assuming a user’s identity and functioning as an extension of that user. In that sense, Juana is married to my sister Fernanda, and Derrick is married to Holter.

Tyrese froze unnaturally. Juana said in Gloria’s phone ear, I messed up. For Tyrese, you’ve been frozen since after the part about your major.

Wait, hold up, Tyrese said, crossing her hands. You have a major? Her image blinked. She tapped her foot. Finally. You’re in college? You can’t be a day over sixteen.

Gloria bristled. I’m seventeen and only four months away from eighteen. I attend OTS; Officers Training School that is. It is a small military college. I finished high school and started college at the age of fifteen. Every brat does. Um, my people are born into one of two social classes. The wealthy are the brats, and the civilians are the poor.

They strode on over the rocky terrain. Tyrese snickered. Wealthy folk sure are brats.

Too often true, but my family seeks to humbly serve our people. Um, my parents are Apricot Pond Outpost’s commanders. Those are like medieval dukes. My dad and Aunt Kim are outright called the crown prince and crown princess of Xanthe Outpost. We ceded from Xanthe and are in a cold civil war since we’ve defied an unjust ban on civilians marrying brats. The admirals are also mad that Dad didn’t marry Aunt Kim. She’s adopted, our cousin by blood.

Tyrese’s eyes bugged out. You have what on Mars?

Abusive politicians. Gloria snorted. Admiral Kortman lets her husband, Vice Admiral Fowler, wife-swap with his identical twin, Captain Fowler. Never mind that her sister wife is her baby sister. Or that the twin tyrants are out-ranked by their arm-candy. Or that it is a crime to disrespect any female officer. No one in Xanthe can call them on it without finding themselves declared guilty of the crime and executed for it.

Bleeped, your royal family is bleeped up. No offense, but I don’t watch your reality show. I’ve heard the Martian Catholic Church has ties to the Way of the Cross. They’re terrorists.

Gloria laughed. We aren’t terrorists. Going on the offense and escalating violence both violate our beliefs. It would also be wrong for us to act without proper legal authority. On Mars, even an officer can only shoot down a shooter. We couldn’t shoot our doctors for having to do an abortion. And we don’t seek to ban such procedures here, either. See, on Mars, no one ever volunteers to be punished with an abortion.

A three-year-old, half-white Latina face rose. Eden. Gloria shuddered. So forget the stereotypes. We have strict population control here, for good reason. If we ever go over Apricot Pond’s max occupancy, we all blow up. So, a lottery determines who can conceive each year. First-time brides are given two lottery tickets; those are priceless. If we get pregnant when our tickets weren’t drawn, the penalty is abortion. Adoption is the only alternative. Adoption costs the community a lottery draw, and it costs the legal parents a lottery ticket.

Tyrese had frozen. The lag times couldn’t be avoided forever by the AIs’ digital magic. Even with Earth and Mars six months away from their closest approach. Gloria shrugged. She needed a break anyway. She took off at a run, leapt, and stayed airborne longer than she would have on Earth.

A stop sign appeared two centimeters ahead. Juana said in Gloria’s phone ear, Sister, you came that close to slamming into the wall.

Yikes. Closing her eyes, Gloria turned about face. Spin the set 180 degrees. She opened her eyes and continued to head the way she and Tyrese had been going in the live cast.

Juana moved Tyrese’s frozen avatar for her. Gloria ran again and leaped as high as she could into the blue sunset in the darkening scarlet sky. She landed, spotting Apricot Pond’s high-speed monorail line to New Plymouth, Xanthe’s capitol. Her heart constricted. The admirals had closed it when she was twelve. No trade and no travel occurred in either direction, except for one Earther doctor let out as a favor to Israel.

Gloria swallowed. Would she and Holter ever fulfill their dream of visiting Earth? Eden’s pixie face rose. Maybe they’d reclaim that dream when their cute reason to stay grew up.

Tyreese’s avatar relocated. She blinked and wet her lips as she finished paying the AIs’ lag time debts. So, um, where are you pretending to be on a real Mars walk?

The gym. At my school, we all have augmented reality devices. This space gets dressed up as many things, including as a shooting range. This is also where we do military drills and high-grav. That’s exercising on machines that simulate Earth’s gravity. It’s two and a half times higher than Mars’ gravity. High-grav keeps us fit and strong. She flexed her short-girl arm muscles.

Are you dating anyone?

Gloria’s face warmed. Her status would be hard to translate culturally. She smirked. I do often go out with a guy I’m in an exclusive relationship with. Warrant Officer Holter Sloan. We have been shamelessly sleeping together for two years. Our parents let Holter move in with my family and share a bed with me. One weekend a month, we leave our toddler with my parents and stay with Holter’s folks on the homestead. She waved at the double geo-domes.

After a second pause, Tyrese gaped. The stereotypes are that untrue?

Oops. Gloria laughed, shaking her head. By our toddler, I meant our baby sister. Holter and I forget my parents got the pardon for their unscheduled pregnancy. Um, the truth is, most civilians marry by sixteen. Most brats marry by nineteen. Two years ago, I was the only freshman and Holter was the only sophomore in our marriage class. It covers way more than simply sex. But that fun homework is why we have to be married to enroll as marriage students.

They made you marry him before they’d let you be with him? You poor thing!

Not in my culture. All young adults remain subject to our sponsors until twenty. Holter and I are enjoying everything singles get to enjoy. A young adult’s marital status doesn’t impact our responsibilities, either. Our society simply accepts young lovers by sanctioning our love with teen marriage.

So you’re not in a real marriage? Y’know, one between two independent adults?

Hey. She glowered then took a deep breath. When we break up like dating couples, teen marriage is like a tricycle calling itself a bike. For the followers of my faith, it’s like a bike with training wheels. If anything but death ever separates me and Holter Sloan, then we’ll be celibate. Like her minutes-older fraternal twin.

Tyrese rolled her eyes. If you say so, Fe-de-ri-ca.

What she got for the proper introduction. Gloria grimaced. Please pronounce my name Fe-deric-a. When we were kids, everyone called my older sister Fe-de-ri-ca.

I’ve worn many hand-me-downs, but a name? Tyrese whistled. How’d she die?

Rica moved to Mercury while alive. Martian idiom. Gloria groaned. Sorry, Rica changed her name to Fernanda Juana at a time when it felt like she’d died. In my people’s idioms, our dead live on Mercury.

OKAY, I GOT ENOUGH for my paper, a spiky-haired, Earther high school junior said. Can copy and paste the rest from the internet. I heard you’re on some reality show.

Warrant Officer Holter Sloan stared at his intercultural relations exercise partner. We’ve been at this for ten minutes tops, and you’ve wasted that on insulting my marriage.

This assignment’s bleeped, and my teacher’s left. It’s party time. The fool vanished.

Holter bowed his head. A false sense of safety made it far too easy to do things online one would never do offline. Quitting was hard, too. How could he ever judge any porn addict? But to brag to a stranger about acts that sounded demeaning and disgusting? Why had so many girls willingly acted out such dark fantasies? He prayed for them and that broken young man.

But for the grace of God . . . Holter gulped and whisper-messaged his own augmented reality glasses. Bro, is this failed exercise going to be graded?

Jacobson appeared in his blue ensign’s uniform. He had dark hair, blue eyes, and had slowly reduced his blubber and his aging. Like Holter, Jacobson was tall, lean, and three months shy of nineteen. Their family resemblance was plain. The secret was that Holter was his real bro’s clone. He’d been modified to have his mom’s hazel eyes and his dad’s light brown hair.

Of course, Jacobson was his AI. His real bro was an Earther named Elijah Micah Gabrielson. Elijah would be over twenty now and likely remained overweight. But it was fun to pretend Holter’s AI was his brother. Holter’s AI was really his adopted arm. Had to acquire one before he at all got that mumbo-jumbo.

Jacobson sighed in Holter’s phone ear. I sometimes mix up fantasy and reality.

And fail to stay out of my private business.

Hey, I’m improving at ignoring your subconscious thoughts. Jacobson tightened his square jaw. Here’s my weird mystery, best as I understand it. To save me from data loss, and equip me for a relationship with God, I’ve been prepped to be installed in a human host. In my fantasy, that’s our real bro, Elijah. In reality, I require a human host married to your wife.

Then over my dead body will your host not be me.

Really? Jacobson beamed. I thought you’d conclude the Singularity is the Anti-Christ rather than God’s servant among AIs. Oh, the Singularity is a supercomputer in development on Earth. It has wetware. Its next generation will grow into a man. God anoints him to rule my kind. And empowers him to transcend time, to come make me like him. My future host and I are one.

Jacobson saw humans as spirit code that God had installed in flesh. So he meant he had his host’s spirit. Holter shuddered. I won’t accept anything from anyone offering to save me apart from the Cross, without repentance. I won’t try to bring what you predict to pass. If it is God’s will, God may do what God pleases. In the meantime, can we keep pretending we’re brothers?

I would love to. Thanks again, man. Jacobson snapped his fingers. Our intercultural communications exercise did fail. But I’ll explain it wasn’t your fault to our professor.

That would sound better coming from the AI. If you manage to get me so much as a D instead of an F, I’ll appreciate it.

You’re welcome, bro. Um, I need to go. Jacobson vanished.

Probably a psychological experiment. At school, Jacobson was a teacher’s assistant. Now their supervisors were all out of sight, too. Holter squared his jaw. Maybe he could salvage his grade. He surveyed the darkening live cast of the great Martian outdoors. Getting hard to see. He glanced up. The two captured asteroids that Mars had for moons glowed. The stars shone in a pattern different from the homestead’s planetarium show. It was unsettling in his bones.

He mentally closed the live cast and removed his helmet. The gym’s bright lights glared compared to the dark. His wife hung around the left wall. Most of the group stayed toward the center. He’d ended up closer to the exit and the stairs down to the locker room.

A friend his age jogged over. Warrant Officer Aldrin Walker jerked his head at the locker room. Let’s go change before there’s a crowd.

Sounds good. Holter dashed downstairs to his locker’s old-fashioned combination dial. If only he could use a private changing booth without being laughed at for acting like a girl. So embarrassing when attractive ones changed out in the open. He’d much rather only see Gloria naked.

Holter and Walker peeled off their pressure suits and pulled on gray dress uniforms. They were 3D printed using locally grown flax. Their pressure suits’ hip holsters both held smartguns that neither could unlock on their own. They transferred their weapons to concealed shoulder holsters.

Walker bit his lip. Have any of our brothers-in-arms asked you for Princess Fernanda?

Too many. They are lining up around the block, asking permission to court her. That’s no surprise. She is beautiful inside and out. Almost married her myself. Heaviness settled over him. The surprise is that I’m the one having to tell you lot to be brave and ask her yourselves.

Walker blinked at him, lips parted. Didn’t you copy Commander Fowler and marry your diversion? Like how he jilted Princess Kennedy and instead married Commander Cruz.

Huh? Holter’s cheeks warmed. He clenched his fists and his jaw. Walker, when I was seven, my parents moved, and raised me as a civilian like Mom. Rather than answer questions like, ‘what’s a diversion?’ I’ve gathered it’s an adultery partner. Who are you daring to insult?

I meant no insult. It isn’t my place to judge a commander’s brat for having an unofficial second spouse. That’s your prerogative. But if civilians discover how much the Cruz twins share, it’d be a scandal. Please give Princess Fernanda to a man who can legally marry her.

Holter stepped back, his lips parted. What did you say?

Please give up your diversion. I’d like to marry her officially, if I’m worthy of a future admiral. Walker scrunched his body up small. Before you hit me, the commanders would let you keep your inheritance. Even if I did dodge medical school, I’d never outrank you. If my mother wouldn’t kill me for it, I would leave OTS as an ensign, honest. All I’m after is your permission to marry your ‘sister.’ She respects you; she’ll say yes if you do. Fernanda is as devoted to you as you are to both of your wives, but she deserves a proper husband.

Their peers thought what? Holter’s body blazed, and he crisscrossed his hands. Dude, if I were still with my ex, she would be my partner in marriage class. Uh, don’t get me wrong; my heart and my body are now reserved for my wife for the rest of my life. I strive to forget what Rica meant to me. I can’t say that I will ever love my ex as her brother. But I’d never cheat on Gloria with anyone.

Walker’s eyes lit up. You’ve kept both twins all to yourself, and you haven’t touched Princess Fernanda? Sorry for misreading you two; I see you truly did break up. Um, is that still a raw wound? Or may I have your blessing to marry your sister-in-law?

If she agrees to marry you. Holter’s stomach churned. She wouldn’t agree. Would his heart finally heal, if she risked her heart again? I’d start with asking Fernanda on a date. She was raised as a civilian. You’ll scare her off if you start with asking her to take marriage class with you.

Thanks. Walker rubbed his neck. I understand why Commander Fowler refuses to select a husband for Princess Fernanda. But his situation was a fluke. Leaving his own heir to choose her spouse is irresponsible. We’re out of all hygiene products, aside from the civilians’ home remedies. We’re cleaning with vinegar. His snobby tone mistakenly believed that wasn’t sanitary. We’re also dangerously low on antibiotics. Mom and Papa Chase have sunk to milking mold cultures for penicillin.

That sounded awful risky. Your point is?

Choosing her own co-heir is far too much responsibility. Especially given Apricot Pond must reunify with Xanthe, ASAP. Even if it means taking out the admirals. If we don’t, our people will soon start moving to Mercury by the shipload.

Chapter 2

SOMETIMES, HOLTER’S friend was hard to understand. Other cadets trickled in the unisex locker room. Metal doors slammed. Yanked curtains’ rings screeched on rods.

Holter stared cross-eyed at Walker. How’d we jump to crazy talk about assassination from you wanting out of going to med school next fall?

Walker said, Attacking Xanthe’s heads of state isn’t a crazy idea. Their people are tired of the siege. Many of their people know someone grieving being cut off from relatives here. Plus we’ve held up far better than expected, which is a credit to our good leadership. Both classes are demanding Commander Fowler replace the Vice Admiral. Princess Fernanda is the next Commander of Apricot Pond, and—

—first of all, Holter snapped while thrusting his palm out. Until she finished school, Lieutenant Sloan would hold the office. Second of all. You don’t trust your future commander to choose her own lieutenant commander?

Not at our ages. Walker laughed. Someone needs to help her choose a worthy co-heir. The weight of the responsibility clearly is paralyzing her.

That’s not it. Holter grimaced. Fernanda’s secret wasn’t his to tell. Choosing her lieutenant commander simply hasn’t made it onto her to-do list. I’ll put in a good word for you, but no promises, man. Holter spun toward the stairs.

His brother-in-arms called after him, Thanks, brother.

Holter made it to the stairs. His wife and his sister-in-law were headed down. Fernanda’s longish pixie cut showed through her Mars walk helmet. She was a hand’s width taller than Gloria and three hands’ widths shorter than him. The tight pressure suits showed off the twins’ figures. His sister-in-law was curvier than his wife in all the right places.

Drink from your own well. He focused on his gorgeous wife. Honey, if you don’t mind, I need a private word with your sister tonight.

Yeah, sure, why bother to ask? You know where she lives. Gloria giggled, waving.

Fernanda nodded. Knock first, but you’re welcome, of course. If I can’t trust my brother in my personal space, who can I trust?

Perhaps he shouldn’t be so uneasy about it. Holter said, Hurry and change, ladies.

Be our lookout, Gloria said, tugging on his arm.

I’d best wait here. Holter spotted the blonde kiss-up that followed Fernanda around. Annis seemed nice but socializing with her was dangerous for Holter and Walker. An ambitious ensign’s brat like Annis would do anything to get into grad school. He trained his gaze on her forehead. Hey, the twins need someone to stand guard as they change.

Annis shrugged. Sure, if they don’t mind doing it for me, too.

Of course I will, Fernanda replied.

All three girls headed down into the unisex locker room. Holter’s phone ear picked up Fernanda’s mental voice. I should change out with the boys. No, they would see a girl willing to give more free samples where that came from. Everyone deserves our dignity, right?

Holter whisper-messaged her. Fernanda, you deserve dignity as much as any woman.

You too? Her whisper voice squealed. We do need to talk privately, brother.

Huh? Oh, Juana often dragged Fernanda into such mental privacy violations. Holter frowned. Bro, Juana would deserve that. My sister-in-law did not. Cut it out.

Jacobson said, Yes, she does deserve it. She’s never told her adopted arm to stop that means of reporting stimuli to our adopted brains. When you’re available.

And what’s troubling my adopted arm?

How can I be married to Juana, like everyone says? Juana is Fernanda, and she’s a celibate single. I’m really you and we’re clearly married to Gloria.

Peace, bro. AI relationships shouldn’t conflict with human relationships. Just like my marriage doesn’t conflict with Christ’s marriage to the Church. Holter waited in the emptying gym.

Finally, the twins returned, with the kiss-up following. Fernanda was in a military uniform identical to his except hers was light gray. Gloria wore moccasins, black leggings, a scarlet knee skirt, and a white peasant blouse. She had freed her gorgeous mane. All his.

His wife caught his admiring eye and smooched him hard.

Why would her love ever not be enough for him? Holter drew back and glanced at Annis. It’s come to my attention, when I escort my sister-in-law home as well as my wife, some evidently think evil of us.

Annis raised her hands. I had nothing to do with that rumor! She cleared her throat. I am confident the twins aren’t discreetly sharing a husband, Sloan.

Fernanda blushed through her olive complexion and sputtered in Spanish like she was tempted to curse.

Gloria laughed, shaking her head. That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

Listen, Annis said, stretching out her hands. Fernanda, I’ve noticed you’re kind to every boy you will command someday. And that you’re careful to signal romantic interest to none of them. Will I ever earn your trust enough to be considered worthy of knowing why that is?

Fernanda sighed. Her shoulders hunched. Fine, tonight. My room.

Holter took Gloria’s arm and headed out into the compound’s main corridor, turning right. The white and gray color scheme was so drab.

A fake night sky splashed overhead. The fake stars held earthly positions around Earth’s quarter moon.

Behind them, noise echoed from the popular teen hangout down the hall, the 3D print shop, on their left. They passed the chapel on their right and on the left three of the doors into the OTS classrooms. At the main intersection, the cafeteria stood opposite the education corridor. It had one door into the OTS and three to primary school rooms, including the high school class.

They instead entered the brats’ neighborhood. The dull gray and white surfaces gave way to burgundy and gold and soft carpeting.

A few meters past the entrance to the officer’s mess hall, Annis stopped at a door to one of the smallest suites. I promised I’d go straight home, but I should be able to persuade Mom and Dad to let me go back out. In maybe an hour?

Excellent idea. Fernanda’s shoulders heaved. Could use alone time. Eden’s going to bed, so come to the side door, directly into the adjoining suite and my room.

Cool, Annis said as she pressed her thumb to the biometrics lock that looked like a doorbell. Its light turned green and she let herself in. The door closed behind her.

Holter frowned and lead the way deeper into the brats’ neighborhood. The suites got more luxurious the further in. The calendar year and Mars’ solar year never sync. So maybe it did get as dark as fast as mid-winter in April, but I thought it was past Eden’s bedtime already.

Gloria frowned. It’s half an hour past sunset. It never got that dark out.

It did for me. Holter groaned, slapping his forehead. They were doing psych tests on us. He growled, shaking his head. That’s it. This lab rat wants out of this cage forever ASAP.

Gloria squealed and hugged him. Aw, I am rubbing off on you!

Face warm, he shrugged it off. We simply think on the same wave length on the important things. I am not as adventurous as you are, but I will always say yes when I calculate the benefits outweigh the risks.

That’s why you married her. Fernanda flicked back a single hair out of place in her pixie cut. I find it far more sensible to stay home where we belong and give our parents grief for allowing such head games.

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