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.