Paul Collins - Earthborn The

"Don't start, Sarah," Gillian said. "He saved my life." She threw her arms around her sister. "And the idiot told me you'd got shot!"

Welkin was the first awake. He immediately limped to the window. During the night his leg had suffered a cramp, but apart from that mild discomfort, he was surprised at how well Sarah's poultice had worked.

He hadn't slept well. The troopers' brutality had shocked him. That sort of animal behavior simply didn't exist on Colony. That's how lower deckers behaved, not Skyborn. Clean, efficient extermination was one thing, but this was uncivilized.

Throughout their ordeal back to Platform One, Gillian had told him of many more Colony atrocities.

His mind whirled in doubt. If he hadn't seen with his very own eyes . . .

Through the ever-present smog he could vaguely make out the sun low on the horizon. It was an uneven mass of pale luminance that barely smudged the skyline. Bold in daylight, Colony towered above the tallest gutted buildings. Its very presence made everything else seem insignificant.

Aware of his own confused feelings, he looked around him. Con had his back to Sarah's. He was snoring heavily, but Sarah seemed oblivious to the erratic snorts. Gillian had stayed outside on night shift.

Sarah's sharp voice startled Welkin.

"We don't linger by the windows."

Welkin moved back obediently. He had thought she was asleep.

"Sometimes snipers take potshots at anything that moves. Keeps us on our toes. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing, I guess."

"Really?"

Welkin looked back to the square of sky. "According to the holographic records, there used to be planes flying overhead, birds making noises, traffic jams, horns blaring. People talking. It's weird that it's all gone."

"I guess technology got away, then. Did you know that from the Wright brothers' first aircraft to the first moon landing was about sixty years? Then another sixty years till interplanetary travel. Not long after that Colony was conceived. Fifteen or twenty years later it was a reality. But we didn't stop there." "The war."

Sarah nodded. "Didn't last long. It was a pushbutton affair. Like three or four chess players stuck deep within mountains where they can't be got at. They kept playing till there wasn't anything left to play for."

"But I thought you had neutron bombs or something. Wasn't it standard practice to destroy the spirit of the people and leave the country in one piece? Otherwise there wouldn't be any point in conquering a country. Not if you demolished it."

"There's no such thing as a textbook war," Sarah said. "This was the granddaddy of them all. We never even found out what it was all about. The world just went crazy."

"All your lives you've lived like this." Welkin's mind rebelled at the idea. "On Colony, we're all the same. Everyone knows what has to be done, and does it. 'Everything is for the good of the whole,' " he quoted an elder maxim.

"That's all very well in a safe environment like Colony, Welkin, but down here on Earth it's a different ball game. We're too busy surviving. And holding on to a dream of contacting others and ending our isolation." Her voice trailed off.

"Others?" Welkin thought of space. "Extraterrestrial life? That was Colony's secondary objective."

"I really meant other Earthborn, Welkin."

"Oh." Welkin shook his head. "There's no one out there, anyway."

Sarah looked skyward. "Colony made a big effort to find ETs, didn't it?"

"There's nothing out there," he snapped.

"What, you visited every planet from here to Tau Ceti?"

"Colony maintained a constant radiometric scan throughout thevoyage. We were looking for any planet with a mean temperature of about seventy-seven degrees Fahrenheit, something with maybe twenty percent oxygen in its atmosphere, with an orbit not too elliptical and the planet's axis not too inclined."

"Textbook stuff," Sarah snorted.

"Colony tried," Welkin said.

"Colony's part of the old world, Welkin. There's no room for it here. I'm sure we could use its technology to get us back on our feet, but with your elders in control, all we've got is another warring faction—a better-armed and -equipped one at that. A superpower, almost."

"It isn't really Colony's fault," Welkin protested.

Sarah put up her hand for silence. "Forget it, Welkin. Eyes open." She went over to Con and shook him awake. "Time for a quick look-see."

Con jerked awake. He shook his head and got to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. It was itching like hell.

They said that was one of the good things about being hit by laser fire. The beam actually cauterized your wound and stopped the bleeding. That is, if you were still alive after being hit!

"Sorry. Forgot about your shoulder," Sarah said. "Judging by your snoring, you slept well enough."

She lifted his jacket to make sure the wound wasn't infected. "It was only a scratch anyway," she said

dismissively.

Con scowled. "Next time you can get scratched," he said, bleary-eyed. "And you're right. I did sleep bloody well. Thanks for asking."

Sarah made a face behind Con's back. "It's called old age, Welkin. Hits you at fourteen or so. Blokes get kinda grumpy when they wake up in the morning."

"My sister's like that now" Welkin said. He blanched at the thought of her. He never thought he'd miss her snoring, either. Until he'd heard Con's during the night.

"Don't worry about your sister," Sarah said, obscuring any sign of their being there. She kicked at the rubble and messed up where they'd slept. "She's going to be all right."

They collected their few belongings and left the room.

"This is our fortress," Sarah said to Welkin. "It's got to be kept safe from outsiders. We often find gimps living in some of the offices."

"I thought you had a deal with them?"

"We try. Some of them are religious fanatics who claim God saw what we'd become and was displeased. So he, in his wisdom, wrought havoc to show his displeasure. Another Sodom and Gomorrah piece of fiction. Anyway, they're harmless enough, but we don't want them here. We need to protect ourselves and that means no freeloaders. And no, the deal is for food only as a rule—nothing else."

"So what happens when you leave? Will the gimps take over?"

Sarah and Con exchanged a smile. "I'm sure Bruick and the rest of them might say something about that."

"Then why hasn't he killed them all?"

"Because gimps will often ferret around in the daytime, while we're generally holed up. They don't give two hoots whether they're shot at—life means so little to them."

"Consequently," Con said, "they come up with some good stuff, which we barter for. Like food and herbs."

They met Budge five minutes later on the second floor. He was about Welkin's age but three times the size. Welkin had noticed him earlier when he'd first met Sarah's family.

Budge waved a beefy hand. His bulbous cheeks were flushed from recent exertion.

"No problems?" Sarah called.

"N-n-nah," he stammered. "Bu-but w-we got other . . . problems."

"Calm down, Budge," Sarah said mildly. "It's all right. Take your time."

"I-I'll sta-start again," he said and smiled sheepishly. "Rea-son Fed- Pedros di-di-didn't answer your call las-t ni-ni-night was that he'd taken off wi . . . th most of the guns and some other stu-uff, too."

"Like what?" Sarah asked icily.

"Trans-mit-ter equip-equip-equipment. Few tools. Prob-prob-probably every-thing he cou-cou-could car-ry. Ill-Ilija and Gree-en are miss-missing, too."

Sarah's facial muscles tightened. "That's going to set us back years. Damn!" She hit the wall hard with her clenched fist. "Damn them to hell. Why our transmitter gear, for chrissake? They wouldn't even know which end to stick in the bloody ground!" She spun from one to the other then, looking for an answer that didn't exist.