Paul Collins - Earthborn The

"I'm going to be a burden to you," Welkin said.

"Enough of that," Sarah said curtly. "If we felt that way we would've left you for Bruick. We're not a charity. Believe me." She replaced the floorboard and made for the trapdoor. "We're outa here and back to base. Con, you coming?"

"Yeah," he said distractedly. "You know, there's got to be a way of taking Colony —"

"Not right now there's not," Sarah said bluntly. Con acknowledged her suspicious glance at Welkin.

"We've more pressing matters on hand. Like survival."

Welkin looked skyward. "Up in orbit you can see millions of stars. Clusters of them, just twinkling like bits of quartz."

"We haven't seen stars for a long time, Welkin." Sarah helped him up the stairs. Below, Con doused the light. "What with the pollution and dust, it's a wonder the moon comes through at all."

They pulled their jackets about them as the chill wind rushed them. Sarah smiled. Even a simple thing like the wind seemed to enthrall Welkin. It was like getting a baby and putting it in a grownup's body and telling it to fend for itself. Just like that! And yet he'd acclimatized admirably. Or so it appeared on the

surface. There was little doubt in her mind that there was a war seething inside him. She would have to watch him like a hawk. She guessed that the elders had systematically indoctrinated their people for genocide using the neural sims that Welkin had spoken of; if that were the case, Welkin might pose a grave danger that even he wasn't aware of.

Sarah suddenly realized she was fond of him, as if he were her own son. Now there was a thought—her first maternal instincts at the age of eighteen.

But she was already a mother to a gang of street kids who had been lost before they met her. A Nancy right out of Oliver Twist.

Con pushed the cellar door back into place.

Sarah snapped back to reality, eyes panning the area. "Hold on, Welkin. Not too fast." She was suddenly aware that he had moved off with more agility than he had displayed earlier. "This is where the fun begins. Shadow me, yeah?" she said, leading them into the chilly night.

Even the slightest sound carried a long way. And the night was deadly still. Welkin had been expecting the soughing of the wind through the trees, the hunting calls of animals, night noises that he had heard in all the vids on Colony. Instead, there was an eerie silence, as though any sound was an intrusion, an anomaly that should not exist.

This isn't the way it should be!

"Quietly, now," Sarah whispered. She pointed to a faintly glowing fire. Dancing amid its glow were shadowlike wraiths. The ferals were still in a festive mood. To their right, the city skyline was lit by Colony's floodlights. And somewhere in between, Sarah reminded herself, were Bruick's jabbers.

At a crouch, Sarah scrambled over some loose rubble and flattened herself behind a crumbling wall.

She reached out to give Welkin a helping hand over the saw-toothed brickwork.

Welkin stepped over it clumsily and almost toppled, but Con caught his arm. Sarah eased him to the ground. She winced at the noise Welkin was making. Play all the sims you like, but nothing prepares you for the real thing, she reminded herself. Her jaw tightened as she pulled him down beside her. "I know it's hard work." Sarah's voice was whisper-fine. "But Sunday strolls aren't in vogue anymore."

Aware of Sarah's agitation, Welkin pulled his arm back from her. He rolled onto his back, his breath coming in short gasps. Concrouched beside him, his glasses spookily reflecting the ferals' campfire.

"Of all the places they could pick," Sarah cursed, redirecting her frustration, "they had to plunk themselves right in front of Flinders Station."

"The stairs might've been a hassle for Welkin," Con said rumi-natively. "Maybe it'd be better to try Platform One?"

"I'm thinking of distance," Sarah said, deep in thought. "But okay. No way past the mongrels here.

Platform One it is."

She got up and blended with the night. Con held on to Welkin until she gave a low whistle. "Not far, Welkin," Con said close to his ear.

But further comment was cut short. A brick exploded into a puff-ball. Welkin fell back in surprise.

The next moment, a barrage of ballistic fire dug up the ground. Momentarily panicked, Con hugged the ground in a fetal position.

Welkin spun around uncertainly. There was a flurry of movement from the ferals' camp. Ululations filled the air. Bullets thudded into the ground so that small tufts of dirt sprung like magical weeds from the debris. Something clicked in Welkin's mind. He took flight toward the only certainty he knew: Colony.

His headlong limping rush into the night tore a curse from Sarah. But she had been spotted. The moment she pushed off after him, a fusillade lit the night.

Something thudded into Sarah's thigh, and for a moment she almost screamed in agony. She staggered, wondering when the pain would strike. But it didn't. She scrambled to safety and quickly patted her utilities, seeking the telltale blood. "The cans," she realized. She pulled the bag of punctured cans from her pocket. "Thank you, God," she whispered.

"S-a-r-a-h!" It was Bruick's mocking voice. "You all right, girl?"

"Just great!" Sarah swore. "Con? You all right?" She sat up and swung the laserlite in an arc. The moment a blossom of light appeared from the jabbers she let off two shots. A bullet whipped past her ear.

"I'm here!" Con yelled. "I'm coming!"

More telltale lights winked in the night. Sarah squeezed off more shots. "Covering!" she called.

Con ducked and weaved across the short expanse of no-man's-land. A feral, face caked with white paint, appeared as though by magic. He screamed maniacally as he rushed at Con.

Sarah swung around and shot from the hip. Nothing. The laserlite was flat.

The feral ran smack into Con, and the pair tumbled to the ground. Sarah saw a knife rise and fall, and she screamed.

Welkin lay on his back in a hollow, swiftly assessing his chances of safely reaching Colony. In his panicked state he was sure he had heard pursuers. The ferals? Cannibals! Or Bruick's jabbers. Bruick's threat to kill him was still fresh in his mind. Colony'?, perimeter had widened considerably. The elders had cleared a huge chunk of land around the homeworld. If only he hadn't been wounded!

He massaged his throbbing leg. Even if he could bypass the ferals and the jabbers, and avoid Sarah and Con, would the elders take him in? Or simply shoot him on sight? Surely they must know by now that Earth wasn't the cesspool of contamination they'd imagined? Or was he still failing to understand their true concern, the "social infection"?

But he knew things! Things the elders needed to know. Sarah and Con had filled his mind with lies and distortions. He felt ashamed that he had been taken in by it. All his training, all his beliefs, had come tumbling down. But now he would make amends. He would be invaluable to the elders as a source of information. He would return a hero. A survivor of the first conflict. A veteran fighter. Lucida would be proud of him.

With these doubtful thoughts in mind, Welkin clawed his way beneath a bone-dry water main and pulled himself up behind it. He listened for sounds of pursuit but found none. Somewhere close, sporadic gunfire smote the night like a drumroll. The ferals were still yelling war cries, or whatever those noises were. But he was sure no one was specifically following him.

Like a beacon, Colony rose up before him. Scarred and war torn, the colossus beckoned him home.

Sarah screamed and ran forward. Her own knife was out now. Oblivious to the gunfire that raked the ground around her, she slid into the tangle of human flesh. The jagged piece of steel in her hand flashed up and down, up and down, all the fury and frustration within her was behind the deep thrusts.