VIRGIN GROUND

BY ROSEL GEORGE BROWN

Annie signed on a bride ship for Mars. There were forty brides. And when she got there, thirty-nine men were waiting.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

The pilot shoved open the airlock and kicked the stairs down.

"Okay, girls. Carry your suitcases and I'll give each of you an oxygen mask as you go out. The air's been breathable for fifteen years, but it's still thin to newcomers. If you feel dizzy, take a whiff of oxygen."

The forty women just stood there and looked at each other. Nobody wanted to be first.

Annie moved forward, her bulky suitcase practically floating in her hand. She was a big woman with that wholesome expression which some women have to substitute for sex appeal. She'd made a great senior leader at summer camps.

"I'll go first," she said, grinning confidence into the others. "I'm not likely to bring out the beast in them." She waved herself out, letting the grin set and jell.

It was odd to feel light. She'd felt too heavy as far back as she could remember. Not fat heavy. Bone heavy.

The sweat on her face dried suddenly. She could feel it, like something being peeled off her skin. Arid climate.

It was cold. But she had the warmth to meet it.

There they were! Forty men. There were supposed to be forty. What if one of them had died! Who would go back?

"Not me," Annie prayed to herself. "Dear God, not me." She tried to count them. But they moved around so!

They were looking at something. Not Annie. The girl coming down the ramp behind Annie.

It was Sally, with the blonde hair on her shoulders. That's all they'd be able to see from there. The blonde hair.

But a man was coming forward. He had a tam-like hat pulled low to good-humored eyes, and an easy stride.

"Wait, Ben," one of the other men said. "See the others."

"I pulled first, didn't I?"

"Yeah. But you ain't seen but two yet."

"I want that blonde one. Let Gary see the others."

And he led Sally away.

He didn't feel her muscles or look at her teeth or measure her pelvic span.

After Sally came Nora. Nora giggled and waved, making a shape under the shapeless clothes. Wasn't that just like Nora? Okay. So she was cute.

Second man took Nora. He didn't wait for the others.

Third man took Regina. Regina looked scared, but you could see those big cow eyes a mile off. Regina obviously needed somebody to protect her.

The other girls came out. Annie counted and her heart hit bottom. Someone was going to be left over.

Four women, three men. They all felt embarrassed. It was the kind of thing the colonists would talk about for years. Who was last. Who was second to last. Spiteful people would remember, and in a tight little community, spite took root and throve on the least misinterpreted expression or—But then, this wouldn't be a tight little community, Annie remembered. The lichen farms were spread out over the whole temperate belt of the world. Because the lichens were grown only on hills, where the sand would not cover them. And because they did a more efficient job of oxygenating the atmosphere when they were spread over a wide area.

One man, hat in hand, even in the cold. A little shriveled man with a spike of dust-colored hair, but kind-looking.

"Aw...." he drawled in embarrassment. He clicked his tongue. "You're both probably too good for somebody like me. I don't know. Both fine women."