Paul Collins - Earthborn The

"Computers were actually the start of Earth's downfall," Con said earnestly. "You don't expect your Colony computers to tell you that, do you?"

Sarah nudged Welkin's chin. "End of history lesson. The poor guy's fainted again. Probably never seen his own blood before. Wouldn't need to up there on Colony."

"But Colony's, down here now, Sarah," Con said darkly. "Safe and sound on Earth."

"Snug as a bug in a rug, eh?" Sarah said. She washed her hands with a damp cloth. "You're up next, Con. Be brave." She smiled quickly. "Don't faint on me, too. One makes for a boring party."

Con grimaced as Sarah began cleansing his flesh wound. "He keeps staring at me like I'm the alien," he said. "Do you reckon he's never seen glasses before?"

"Nobody's seen glasses like those."

"That does it. I'm—"

"Ow!" she squealed when Con play-thumped her in the arm. "Hey, I've got an idea. You'll have to put your glasses on him when he comes to. Now that could be amusing."

"Wouldn't suit him," Con grinned. Suddenly serious, he said, "What's going to happen, Sarah?"

The question caught her off guard. She wrung the cloth out and reapplied the dressing. "With Colony?"

"Everything," Con said. "You've lived longer than anyone I know. You've explained about genes and the rest of it, about yours being immune to the disease, but what happens—"

"When I die?" she finished for him. "And now. Well, I write justabout everything that happens in a journal, Con." She hefted herself onto the table and watched Welkin, not wanting to meet Con's pleading eyes. "That way, when the time comes, one of you lot can keep it going. I've nominated you, actually.

You'll have to keep the journal, and all the books and CRCs we've stashed away. That way future generations will always have knowledge of our past—what we were and what we can become again if we avoid all the pitfalls."

"But Colony isn't going to let us live. They want Earth for themselves. Don't they, Sarah?"

"They've come back as invaders, Con. Sure. They don't want to assimilate with what they consider their contaminated inferiors." She considered for a moment. "Much like what Hitler did to the Jews back in the first Holocaust. I told you guys about it. Remember that story?"

Con nodded slowly.

Sarah spared him a quick glance. "The Jews survived, Con. And so shall we. It's just going to take a lot of thought and some good old-fashioned luck. That's all."

Sarah realized that Welkin's eyes had fluttered open. She shook her head. "If the jabbers call us

'Sarah's Squirrels,' I wonder what nickname they'll come up with now."

" 'The Walking Wounded,' " Con said. Then with a smirk he nodded to the laser lance on the workbench. "Welkin scored well."

Sarah ran her fingers fleetingly over the laser lance. "Where'd he learn to throw like that? Certainly not in the back corridors of Colony."

"Bruick went down like a ton of bricks!" Con said with glee.

"It was nothing," Welkin said distantly. He had come to moments before. The itch in his leg was driving him to distraction. "It's a game called bowling. We play it on a neural sim, but you still have to throw, even though you don't actually throw anything from your hand. You can skip things across the water by throwing sideways, or even target bottles lined up on a wall." Welkin's eyes were suddenly bright, his waxy face alive. "I sometimes beat Lucida!"

"Leave your leg alone. If it's itching, that means it's healing," Sarah said seriously. "Lucida was pretty good at bowling too, huh?"

"I miss her," Welkin whispered. His stomach suddenly cramped.

"I think I might be allergic to something," he said. He rubbed furiously at his eyes. "I'm bleeding!"

Sarah pulled his hands gently from his face. "You're not bleeding, you silly duffer," she said quietly.

"These are tears. It's okay to show emotions. Let them come."

But Welkin fought the feelings inside him. He felt as though everything was toppling in upon him. He didn't need these Earth-born! If it hadn't been for them in the first place, he'd be safely on board Colony right now, probably asleep, or sharing study skills with Lucida!

Sarah regarded him with compassion. "If all this is about Lucida, then it's okay. We know you want to be with her. And we're going to do our best to make that come true."

He looked at her, surprised by her words.

She suddenly put her arms around him and hugged him. He tried to push her away, but for a brief moment tears blinded him and he thought of his mother, long dead. He sagged against Sarah, who rocked him gently for a few minutes before he gruffly pulled away, wiping his tear-stained face with his forearm. This was wrong. Sky-born didn't show emotion, especially in front of inferiors!

Sarah said nothing. Con busied himself with some minor chore. They both pretended not to notice Welkin's sniffles.

"I forgot. You said you were a bit cold before." She found an old flak jacket for him, then handed them both an opened Meals in a Can. "So we're celebrating, Con." To Welkin she said, "What does the lance do?"

Welkin knuckled his eyes to clear them. "It has a minifusion pak. They're outdated now—something

we call raw power—but if the laser optics are sealed, and there's been no leakage, it's still a heavy-duty laser. The plug at the back is for more concentrated power, but its usage means greater loss of fusion life." He hesitated, then went on. "This model comes equipped with a solarbat for light use—should pierce a hole through just about anything at close range."

"You're of more use to us than any solarbat, and any other three kids, for that matter," Sarah said.

"That's for sure!" Con agreed enthusiastically.

Welkin reacted oddly. He was unfamiliar with flattery. A tingling rose on his cheeks. "I feel awfully hot all of a sudden," he blustered.

Sarah and Con were equally puzzled. They knew what was happening but not why Welkin didn't.

"You were saying the circuits are slightly damaged," Con said and turned to Sarah. "Welkin needs a sonic drive to fix it."

"A what?"

"A screwdriver should do it."

"Oh." Sarah withdrew one from her flak jacket. At the look on Welkin's face she said, "Stone Age version of a sonic drive. It's the best I can offer."

While Sarah prepared a splint for his leg, Welkin worked on the lance. It took an hour to connect the damaged optics.

The searing pain that throbbed in his leg was also a distraction that he fought to control. More than once he wondered how the Earth-born had survived without such basic equipment as medkits and sonic drives. It was beginning to dawn on him that he was useful to them. It was a strange feeling. He wasn't sure if he liked it.

Can I live among these people? Welkin wondered. They're so different from . . . us. They're unclean, and they have no technology — they really are degenerates, just like the elders said. And it's so cold and I'm hungry all the time ... He forced himself to stop thinking. The Skyborn and the Earthborn were so different from each other that any comparisons between the two were bound to end in confusion.

Finally Welkin had the lance set up for a demonstration. He depressed a keypad, and a cobalt blue finger of light pierced a neat hole in the brickwork.

"All right!" Con said. He pumped the air with his fist.

"But leave the cellar in one piece," Sarah said good-naturedly.

Welkin switched it off. "You pull this bit down to disconnect the battery," he said, demonstrating.

"Doubt that it will recharge down here, but in the sun it should."

"We don't get much sun anymore," Con said. "Though Sarah says it's getting better."