Paul Collins - Earthborn The

Bruick's gang had fanned out at the far end of the gutted building. Classic passive-aggressive deployment, ready for anything. They wore tattered clothing that wrapped their bodies as if years of grime and lack of soap had welded the material to their flesh. Their hair hung in dreadlocks. Some of them had garish tattoos etched on their faces.

"Jabbers," Sarah told Welkin. "One step up from the ferals. Smarter. More cunning. Stay real close.

And say nothing."

"Looky 'ere," one of the jabbers called. "It's Sarah's Squirrels!"

Raucous laughter jumped at them from around the warehouse.

"Fagin!" someone said. "Kindergarten ma'am!" The voice was scornful.

"Asswipe," Sarah mumbled. Louder, she called, "What have you got?" Her voice had dropped an octave and her manner was distinctly hostile.

Bruick stepped forward. He had a ragged beard. Perspiration was a silvery sheen on his cheeks and forehead.

"It's more a matter of what you've got, love," Bruick said. His voice was a casual drawl. "Apart from

the obvious, that is," he added suggestively.

Several of his gang laughed.

Con's face went stony blank; his eyes narrowed to slits behind the thick lenses. He withdrew several items of canned food from his flak jacket and threw them to the ground.

Bruick went to pick them up, but Sarah said, "I don't think so," and waved the laserlite.

"Pretty piece of merchandise," said Bruick speculatively. He had a curving blade tucked into the sash knotted about his waist. It glittered as though studded with jewels.

"And it works." Sarah's voice was deadly serious. "I said, what have you got?"

Bruick kept a respectable distance. "Don't get excited, Sa-rah," he said, mocking her name. He called something to one of his gang who fetched a long cylindrical item that seemed too cumbersome to be an efficient weapon.

"Worth its weight in food," Bruick declared.

"Con?" Sarah said.

Con inspected the item.

"Hey, Four-Eyes, got yourselves a paleface, have you?" Bruick quizzed. Someone tittered in the background.

Sarah maintained her silence. Con seemed oblivious to the taunt and returned to Sarah's side.

"Wouldn't have the faintest idea what it is, Sarah. I'd say a weapon of some sort. A blaster, maybe.

Much too heavy to be a handheld weapon. And there's a plug at the back. We'd need a battery or something."

"It's a laser lance," Welkin said. Traitor! His jaw tightened.

"And?" Sarah prompted.

"So what do youse reckon?" Bruick interrupted irritably. He had somehow moved closer. "We ain't got all night."

Agitated, Welkin shook his head. Loyalty to Colony froze his mind.

With a start Sarah realized that two of the jabbers were missing. She scanned the darker recesses of the factory, then made a sudden decision. "We're moving out. No deal."

Sarah had time to take one step back before shots rang out. Con took a hit in the shoulder and slammed against the wall, spun by the impact. He let out a startled grunt and fell.

"My glasses!" he squealed against the pain burning his shoulder.

A barrage of arrows hissed through the air, ka-thunkmg into walls and the floor, quivering like needles.

"Back! Back!" Sarah barked. She lunged for Welkin but missed him. Con began to topple, and she jerked backward to lend him support. He tugged against her grip and swore beneath his breath. The swift humming of arrows in flight tore past them as Con swooped up his glasses. Broken! Then she was dragging him out of there screaming for Welkin to follow.

It was on sudden impulse that Welkin ran forward and snatched a food can from the ground. He flung it with all his might at Bruick, who had closed the distance between them. At that short range the can landed with the force of a thrown brick.

Bruick's head rocked back and he fell. "I'll kill you!" he screamed. "HELL!" he cried in agony.

Welkin hefted the laser lance across his shoulders. This action sent the jabbers diving for cover.

Welkin swung the weapon around and then fled after Sarah and Con.

He heard Bruick's shrill cursing. Seconds later he was close behind; Welkin could hear the heavy footsteps gaining on him and tiny sobbing noises as though the jabber was seriously hurt but wouldn't stop for anything.

Welkin had barely made it to the exit when an arrow thudded into his thigh. The impact buckled his leg and sent excruciating pain shocking through every limb.

"Sarah?" he called, dazed. He'd never been hurt like this. The pain was terrible.

Suddenly more gunfire spat in the factory. Bright flashes lit the black backdrop like bright posies.

Bruick fell heavily. His outstretched hand almost tripped Welkin, who quickly utilized the laser lance as a crutch.

Then Sarah bounded into view. Welkin thankfully leaned against the wall and stared blankly at the gnarled wood that protruded from his thigh. In his dazed state, he wondered how something so small could have such a devastating effect on his system. He watched the blood spread across his contamination suit like a ferocious replicating virus.

Sarah swung her laserlite around the edge of the door and squeezed off several shots. She jerked back as jabber fire took away half the door jamb.

"That was a damn fool thing to do!" she snapped. Welkin's pain was nothing new to her. She'd watched hundreds of kids die over the years. But she needed this one badly, for so many reasons. In his own unique way, he was a radical—him and that sister of his, Lucida. Radicals with inbuilt longevity—a regular Adam and Eve who would add healthy genes to Earth's decaying gene pool.

And their technical skills! Their knowledge.

She bit her bottom lip hard. Damn! It tore at her heart. Was she being selfish? Her head swam with jumbled thoughts.

Sharp pieces of metal and plaster exploded about them. Sarah poked the laserlite into the doorway and pressed the firing stud twice before pulling back quickly.

"I've got Con back there in a dugout." She struggled to focus her thoughts. "He's wounded. Can you walk? Welkin!" She slapped him hard across his face. "You're dead meat if you don't snap out of it!"

The sting of Sarah's open hand across his face brought momentary relief from the pain raging elsewhere.

"It hurts, Sarah," he said numbly. His heart was pounding so heavily his torso was contracting.

"Hold on to the laser lance," Sarah said evenly. "I'm determined we'll rescue something from this fiasco."

She lifted Welkin and straddled him across her shoulders. At a forced trot she crossed the moonlit square.

Con winced as Sarah staggered over the ridge of the dugout. Ricocheting bullets followed her. An arrow flew overhead. She let Welkin fall off her shoulders and threw her head back against the rubble.

"Con?" Sarah wheezed. She gulped in great lungfuls of air. "You gonna make it?"

"My shoulder. Oh, Sarah, it's burning to hell!" Con's eyes had suddenly become feverish with shock.

"My glasses—"

Sarah scuffed his head. "We'll fix your glasses." She swung her laserlite over the ridge. Even at low charge the weapon was fearsome.

Shards of red ice spat into the air. The tracers sent the jabbers diving for cover. Some didn't make it.

Gunfire exploded in the middle distance, and Sarah exchanged a worried look with Con. "That'll be Gillian. Giving us some cover."

Sarah tore a strip of cloth from her shirt. She glanced briefly at the blood-smeared bandanna that Con held to his shoulder. "Okay. Grin and bear it, Con." She bound the wound and tied a quick knot. She felt Con's pain but couldn't show it. Not now. They meant to kill us all, she thought. And felt icy anger course through her. She'd make Bruick pay for this.

"The bullet barely touched you." She managed to keep her face expressionless, her relief in check.