Paul Collins - Earthborn The

Lucida slumped back onto the bunk. "I'm sorry, Welkin. It's justthat . . . just that everything's gone horribly wrong! And they told me you were dead!"

"I was captured by the Earthborn. I've been . . . living with them."

She looked at him with a tinge of horror. He quickly changed the subject. "What about Zedda and En?"

"They're dead, too. I think." Confusion edged her words. "The elders said you were all slaughtered out there. No survivors."

"I saw them escape!" Welkin gasped. "Only Glover . . . maybe three others were shot..."

"You're wrong!" Lucida said. "The elders—"

Welkin held up his hand for quiet—it was a Sarah mannerism. "Why are you in here?" He went to her, knelt and cradled her head. She clung to him, shaking. They stayed that way in silence for several

seconds. "What's happened?" Welkin asked.

"What do you think happened? After they took Harry to the lower decks and questioned you, how long did you think it would be before they got around to me? It seems I'm infected, too, and the prognosis isn't particularly hopeful!" she said bitterly.

Her eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep, and fear. But his were shining.

"Look," Lucida said, awed. "You're crying!"

Welkin shrugged. "Earthborn cry whenever they want to."

Lucida touched his damp cheeks with her fingertips. "What have they done to you, Welkin?"

"Nothing. They treated me okay." In sudden remorse, looking around at his new prison cell, he said,

"And I betrayed them, Lucida. For this!"

"I don't understand," Lucida said. "How could you betray them? They're just animals, aren't they?

You can't betray a sheep or a cow!"

"They're not like that. They're . . . Oh, I can't explain it!" He clenched and unclenched his hands.

Lucida gazed at him. "You seem different. Older."

"And wiser," Welkin said. He smiled wanly. "You learn more than any tutor on Colony could teach you in a lifetime." She punched him playfully on the arm. "So what now?" he asked.

"It will be the lower decks for us," Lucida predicted, her voice shaking. "That's if there are any lower decks left since we crashed."

"We didn't hit too hard," Welkin commented knowingly. "They're still down there."

Lucida sensed his expertise. "Are they?"

"I have . . . friends on the surface, Lucida," Welkin said. "Though I think I've ruined their plans. Their leader is called Sarah. You should see her. She's so ... I dunno. Top rank! Really tall and . . . bright eyes that miss nothing. She seems to know everything. She's terribly smart."

"Really?" Lucida asked cynically. "Then why did she let you come back here? She's as good as sentenced you to death."

"She had a plan," Welkin said. "Look, I know this won't make any sense to you, but everything the elders said about the Earthborn is a lie."

Lucida stared back at him.

"It's all propaganda," Welkin told her. "I didn't want to believe it. I fooled myself into thinking Colony would take me back with open arms. What an idiot I am!"

"That's enough, Welkin!" Lucida cried. She covered her ears with her hands and brought her knees up to her chest, like someone being attacked.

At last she said quietly, "You can't say things like that. It's wrong! You'll have us both brainwiped!"

Welkin was silent for a moment. "The Earthborn need us, Lucida."

"So what? We're going to be thrown to the mutineers. And you know what they do to 'softies' from the upper decks!" She suddenly looked down at Welkin's leg. "What's up with you? You're limping."

"I got shot," Welkin told her, surprised at the degree of pride in his voice. "With an arrow."

If the trial was a farce, the setting was most assuredly not. Only on rare occasions had the vast and cathedral-like General Assembly chamber been used for anything other than ceremonial events or the political deliberations of the ruling elite. The room itself was a perfect octahedron that rose in a series of cascading tiers, called galleries, for some twenty-two stories to a massive octagonal ceiling made of translucent plastisteel. Until recently this "window" gazed out upon the starry universe, but now it

displayed a more modest view of the smoggy nighttime skies of Earth.

Sitting in the defendant's box, feeling very small and alone in this vast space, Lucida peered up at the galleries, searching for a friendly face. She found none. The audience was a cross section of Colony personnel, ordinary crew members, officers, former acquaintances perhaps, here to watch two traitors get their just deserts. Their faces were uniformly hostile, and the great Assembly space was filled with an angry buzz like a hornets' nest. Lucida shivered and looked across at her brother, restrained in a nearby but separate box.

Welkin avoided her eyes, but she could see that his face was puffy and bruised. He had been ill treated and looked dejected. Lucida tried to swallow her fear. How could this be happening to them?

The hearing was as brief as it was staged. Elder Jamieson, one member of a panel of elders, rapped for order. The chamber fell silent. Only the distant hum of air recyclers could be heard.

"Welkin Quinn, you are on this day charged with high treason inthat you did knowingly and with malice aforethought abandon your brethren and your society, and did forge an alliance with the primitive beasts known as the Earthborn, and did further intend, with their assistance, to attack Colony and destroy her crew. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, Elder, sir." Welkin's voice was almost inaudible.

"Let the defendant's plea be recorded thus. Let the proceedings begin, and may God have mercy on your soul, Welkin Quinn."

Elder Tobias spoke next. His voice was grim and tinged with disgust. "Tell us the truth, Welkin," he cautioned, without a hint of irony, "and justice will be served. Lie, and both you and your sister will suffer the dire consequences. Place the defendant in the decoder."

Welkin knew it was pointless to resist. He let a trio of heavies strap him into a limbic decoder. He had already survived two harrowing nights of decoding during which raw data was lifted directly from the glial cells of his brain that encoded his recent memories. He dully realized that the elders were going to use his own thoughts against him, presenting graphic evidence of his betrayal of Colony on the wet-ware display for all to see.

Welkin closed his eyes as a heavy placed metal tabs about his shaved head. He felt a sharp stinging as each tab sank its synaptic needle into his skull.

The screen above Welkin flared with white static.

Elder Zecharia leaned forward in her wheelchair. "Welkin Quinn, have you been informed of your rights? And do you waive counsel?"

Welkin nodded. It was useless to protest that he had waived counsel under duress. "I do, Elder."

Zecharia gazed solemnly around the gallery with steady, unblinking steel-gray eyes. "As is our custom, we shall display memories of your liaison with the Earthborn and allow the court to decide whether or not you are guilty as charged." She nodded curtly to the technician seated beside Welkin. "Proceed."

Welkin's head jerked as power surged through the tabs and into his nerve endings. Images downloaded. The wetware screen became a montage of shifting scenes: Sarah's kindly face, Con laughing at something Welkin had said, Sarah and Con offering him food, Tor and Simone being slain by ferals, Welkin seemingly fleeing. Welkinprayed feverishly that his most heinous crime had not been recorded— the killing of two troopers.

Welkin sensed rather than heard the gallery's collective intake of breath as each scene revealed one of their own—a Skyborn!—consorting with the enemy.