Permanence

AWAKE AGAIN. THIS was the third night in a row that Rue had awoken in darkness, unsure of where she was or what was happening. This time it only took her a minute or so to recognize the ruffling sound above her as the fabric of her tent rippling in the breeze. In the distance the wind made a soughing sound along the hillside. On the first night, she had been terrified by its lonely music— an alive but inhuman thing stalking the dark, unlike the wholly manmade sounds that permeated sleep-shift in Allemagne. Last night, she hadn't been afraid, but wonder had kept her awake. Both times, she had ended up sitting outside the tent for hours, staring up at the shimmering, restless aurora. Every now and then she could see stars through it and once or twice made out the cloud-smudged disk of Erythrion. She could feel the warmth of Erythrion on her face, even when she couldn't see it.

The publicity from Blair's interview had paid off in a modest way; the very day it was posted to the net, Rue had received nine job offers— plus a hurt-sounding message from Max to which she had not replied.

None of the jobs were high-paying, so she had chosen one that fit well with Rebecca's advice to her on how best to fulfil her eco responsibilities. She was planting trees.

Over the past few grueling days Rue had often thought of her mother; she would be so proud of her daughter. At the same time, whenever she paused to gaze out at the vista of hills and towering mountains that made up the North Penumbra, Rue felt a deep sorrow at the memory of her mother's tiny garden of green things. In retrospect, it was pathetic, that little terrarium. Here, Rue walked kilometers of rock near the alpine limit of the mountains, guiding the planting machines to pockets of soil and tiny barren meadows where trees might grow. The center of Treya's lit circle was all green, but neither green plants nor the aurora-adapted night grasses grew here in the twilight. The same wind that sighed around her tent tonight moved over a hundred kilometers of barrens and through rocky uplands where only lichens had taken hold. On the other side of these mountains was permanent night, where a man-made ecology of low-light plants covered the rest of the hemisphere. Seeds were regularly dumped from the air onto the penumbral lands, but in some environments this was a wasteful exercise; the vast majority of seeds that fell in Rue's zone landed on rock. Her job was to optimize the planting so that a true subalpine forest would grow here eventually.

She smiled and stretched. A week ago she'd never been in a true forest and certainly had no idea of the startling contrasts between the lush foliage of the valleys and the hardy, tiny plants that thrived up here. She had moments of acrophobia and agoraphobia as she walked the mountainsides, but so far she'd been able to transmute the fear into exhilaration.

She had also spent a fair amount of time worrying, because her pay wasn't enough to cover the docking costs of the shuttle; instead of saving to pay for her citizenship, she was getting further into debt. She might have done all right if she'd known who to bribe, but her skills in that area were minimal. Jentry had refused to send any money for the docking fees; she suspected he was pla

Because it was so grim, she had been refusing to dwell on the future. The mountains were gorgeous, all limpid shadow and fogbound majesty and she found it easy to forget her problems here. Sheer rock walls rose from the plains to ice-capped peaks, sunlit on one side during the artificial day, long shadows sloping into apparent nothingness on the other side. Half the sky was a gorgeous bright blue; the other half, azure fading to black. She could actually see the clean boundary of the gigantic shaft of light coming from the «sun»; it was as if she stood by the wall of a sky-sized glowing crystal, with bright clouds, forests, and towns embedded in it. Penumbra seemed like the end of the world in ancient myth; if she walked into the darkness, Rue fancied she might fall off the edge into space.

Working in such an Olympian landscape might have made her lonely, but Rue's supervisor kept tabs on her. He phoned once an hour to monitor her progress and that of the other planters working other slopes. In between times he e-mailed spirit-building slogans like KEEP UP THE ADEQUATE WORK and WE ARE ALL COGS IN THE WHEELS OF INDUSTRY. It was all in fun and when she wasn't chatting with him, Rue often spoke to Rebecca and even Blair.

Blair had taken her out to di

The distant wind called out her name.

Rue opened her eyes wide. She saw nothing but the billowing blackness of the tent above her. It must have been her imagination.

"Rue…"

She sat up, heart pounding. Now she could see a faint glimmer of light through the tent wall. It came from downslope.

"Oh, shit!" She fought her way out of the sleeping bag and dressed hurriedly. It was cool but not cold; the nights here hovered around freezing, which to Rue felt just fine. She unzipped the tent flap and stepped out into muttering wind and the distant cracking noise of a glacial avalanche.

Some kind of air car was parked about two hundred meters down the valley. Between it and her was a little bobbing light.

"Rue!"

"Max?" She could see pretty well by auroral light, so Rue jogged down to him without bothering to get out her own flashlight. Her cousin was waving a lantern around, peering myopically into the gloom; he jumped when she padded out of the dark to stand before him.

"Max, what are you doing here?"

"Thank Permanence I found you," he said. He was panting, probably from the thi

"No…" But it was probably buried under clothing and gear; Rue's tent was pretty small.

He waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. They'll be here any minute, we've got to go."

"They? Who's they?"

"The government— military types who work for the generals of the Coup. They're about ten minutes behind me— look!" He pointed at the sky. Sure enough, a little knot of lights way up there was drifting in their direction.

"Come on! Grab your gear and let's get out of here!"

"I don't understand. What—"

"The cycler! It's the cycler, Rue, don't you get it? Your claim has been upheld. The cycler's a ghost ship, or nonhuman, which means your mining rights are automatically converted to salvage rights."

"Salvage rights…" She stared at the incoming air cars.

"Rue, if you thought everybody wanted a piece of you before, just wait! As of this moment, cousin, you are the only person in Erythrion to own a starship!"