Free Jenna Starborn by Sharon Shinn Page A

was elated to receive it. Although I had not yet asked for a holiday, I knew that I was entitled to several during the course of the year. With my precious money finally available, a brief vacation was exactly what I wanted, so I notified Mrs. Farraday of my intent. And the next morning I was gone.
    The public buses that serviced the holdings near Thorrastone Park made the circuit between the properties three times daily, once very early in the morning, once near noon, and once late in the day. I was up with the dawn in order to catch the early bus, and I was waiting in the assigned area a good half hour before it was scheduled to appear. Each of the holdings (so I had been told) were equipped, like Thorrastone Park, with a small airlock which would allow buses and closed aeromobiles and any other vehicles to safely enter their environs. There was, naturally, no forcefield over the uninhabited roadways and regions of the world, so any vehicles traveling between settled points had to be equipped with their own closed atmospheric systems—even the local buses that only covered a few hundred miles at a stretch.
    I was used to waiting, but I admit to feeling some impatience by the time the sleek silver airbus darted into view. It eased into the airlock with an interesting suck and exchange of gases, and then it was safe for me to board. Naturally, the two dozen or so other passengers were all strangers to me, but I gave the whole assembled ridership one quick, neutral glance before settling into an unoccupied seat near a window.
    The ride in, to me at least, was fascinating, for I had not left Thorrastone Park since my arrival and I had not, on my first journey from the spaceport, paid much attention to the landscape. There had been rough attempts at terraforming the whole surface of Fieldstar, but such work had been only rudimentary in the areas that were not actually supporting human life. Thus the route we followed took us over terrain that bore little resemblance to the manor’s thick lawn. The grasses were starved and pitiful, unlike the thick, coarse turf that formed our lawn; they, and the half-naked shrubbery, and the tall, twisted trees, were almost all of a uniform fawn color with no hints of our own familiar green. Against the gray rocky soil from which they sprang, even their fugitive color seemed gay, a vibrant contrast. I found myself wishing I had any skill with paint or pencil so I could catch that bleak and delicate beauty on paper.
    The lights of town, when we arrived nearly two hours later, seemed garish and overbright in comparison, and for a moment I was reluctant to disembark from the bus. But soon enough I forgot the minimalist delights of the prairie landscape, and turned with some enthusiasm to the more hedonistic pleasures of commerce.
    As I had noted before, Fieldstar’s small spaceport was hardly a retailer’s dream, but it offered more variety and opportunity than I had seen for a while, and I spent a happy day wandering under its high, glittering dome. I did not have a large number of credits at my disposal, so I spent more time looking than buying. I did eye an apricot-colored silk pantsuit with a great deal of longing, even going to the extent of trying it on and visiting it two more times during the course of the afternoon, but I could envision no possible occasion on which such attire would be appropriate for a half-cit technician in an out-of-the-way holding, and so I resisted. In the end, I contented myself with buying two new serviceable gray tunics, a pair of comfortable shoes, another pair of khaki coveralls, and a length of pink ribbon for Ameletta. I also treated myself to a somewhat expensive lunch, which included a fruit-tart dessert so delicious I almost could not resist ordering a second.
    After the meal, I shopped some more, then spent some time viewing a new art show at the tiny museum. My packages, though not many, began to grow heavy, and I was just as glad when it