Paul Collins - Earthborn The

Then there was Harry, good, old, reliable Harry. It was hard to believe they'd been enemies in Colony's lower decks. Without a doubt, he was the best man to have watching your back.

Within two days of the Committee's decision to send him to Melbourne, Elab squatted on the floor of his hut, surrounded by his team. He'd already drawn up a rough map of their journey as he perceived it.

Sarah's few maps had been incomplete, often illegible, and extended only as far north as a place called Albury.

The faces he saw about him were eager enough. In fact they had shown signs of restlessness lately.

They were anxious to get out past Melbourne before the first of the spring raids on their camp.

Because Sarah's map was irreplaceable, Elab had taken the precaution of sketching out the first leg of their journey. The lines he had made in the hard-packed earth resembled a kid's scribbling, but this was a serious business and no one cared.

"This line," he said, pointing to a broad horizontal band, "is what was called the Great Dividing Range.

According to the map it's just like the Dandenongs, but I think much bigger." Judging by the map it was once the backbone of the eastern states. But the Hum Highway used to go right through it. He shrugged off any doubts. "No telling, but I think before the Great Whiteout people used to go there all the time, which means it's not going to be inaccessible."

"Doesn't look that far away," Zocky said absently. When she saw the others roll their eyes, she said,

"By cruiser, of course."

"Yeah," Lars said sardonically, "I seen you ride one once. Didn't sit down for a week if I remember right." He nudged Devan, who grinned.

"Did too!" Zocky snorted.

"Okay," Elab interjected. "Committee's going to provide us with a laser—"

"One?!" Lars said incredulously. "We've recovered a dozen still charged."

"And we're four and the family is over a hundred." Elab shook his head. "They've got kids to care for, Lars. Besides, we'll be well armed." He looked at them each in turn. "We're possibly the most able-bodied group in the family."

With his knife Elab gouged out the route he intended taking.

"The Hum Highway," Zocky guessed correctly.

"Maybe it sang," Devan joked.

"It's a bit of a hike to get to it," Elab said thoughtfully. "But according to the map it will take us right through the range."

"Will it be safe?" Devan asked. "I mean, we usually keep well clear of the old roads. Colony seems to use them as reference points."

"Colony won't be looking for us any farther than this," Elab said, pointing to a large bend in the Yarra River. Once we're across that we'll just be another small family wandering about. Sure, if they see us we'll lie low till they pass."

"What if the river's still swollen?" Lars asked.

Before Elab could reply, Harry said, "We'll build a raft." A smirk creased his features. "Piece of cake.

We've done that before."

They sat there all afternoon discussing the pros and cons of their journey. By dusk Elab figured they'd

all worked through the various options, as well as Lars's numerous objections. Whatever their chances of finding Colony mutineers, he couldn't imagine doing it with a finer bunch of kids.

"I guess that's it, then," he said. The others stood as he sheathed his knife. "We move out in the morning. I'd suggest getting an early night."

Welkin was annoyed at the predicament he found himself in. He ran a hand through his knotted hair and smacked himself reproachfully on the forehead.

After trekking through the bush for three days, he now crouched outside the walls of the Stockade.

The mottled gum tree he hid behind was no windbreak against the fierce gusts that tore across the range grass. He shivered in his misery and wondered how long he should wait until going in after Gillian.

It would be only a matter of time before he was discovered. Just this morning he'd seen a small party, ten strong, leave the fort at a trot. At first he thought they were looking for him but then realized they had simply been secretive and therefore wary of anyone knowing their movements. They'd dispersed at the forest's fringe and regrouped farther inland.

Welkin had followed them for a short distance. They seemed to be heading west, either toward the united family or maybe beyond. Colony? It wasn't such an unlikely guess.

He felt a strong urge to follow them, find out where they were going and why, but he couldn't leave without making sure Gillian was okay.

Then he spotted Bruick in the group, and the doubt returned. Could he possibly be planning an attack on the family? Surely he would take more fighters with him? So it must be Colony. Welkin wastempted to get Bruick right now, and his hand even went mechanically to his quiver to find an arrow.

But something stayed his hand. Memories of Gillian, her gamin smile and sometimes laconic nature.

"Damn," he cursed and held his head down until the smell of the grass made him sneeze.

He'd been waiting out here a day and a night, reconnoitering. His stomach was knotted tight, and the few insects and berries he'd managed to swallow had made him feel ill—so much so he reckoned it safer not to eat anything.

The festivities in Bruick's Stockade had quieted down. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon, leaving behind it a red sky marked by dark angry clouds.

He didn't intend staying out here another night. Being a Skyborn had its disadvantages. His stocky legs were a dead giveaway, and he had no means of covering them right now. He'd considered joining revelers as they entered the Stockade, but that was too risky.

The gates were closed every night and guards posted. He was confident of dispatching the guards easily enough, but the locked gates, now that was another matter entirely.

His weathered face creased in concern. Why in Space had Gillian gone there in the first place? But then, just about everything about the girl confused him. No chance she'd ever want to bond with him, of course—she treated him much as Lucida did. Even so, they'd slept side by side and shared a lot of good and bad times. He felt an ache in his stomach at the prospect of never seeing her again. And he got really anxious when he saw her talking to Lars or Devan.

Welkin took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He shook his head, undecided how to proceed. Most of the mounting tension slipped from his face. He unclenched his jaw muscles and knew right there and then that tonight was the night to be Starbound, or Earth-bound, or whatever happened to the Skyborn who died on Earth.

He waited an hour after the great creaking iron gates were closed and the sentries lit the torches that

cast flickering shadows. He then moved stealthily forward.

Much closer now, Welkin scanned the defenses. He knew that climbing over the razor wire that clung to the parapets like poisonivy was suicidal. That left the front gate with the sentries. His mind made up, he sneaked forward.

Gillian glared at the guard as he deposited a bowl of gruel under the cell door. Unappetizing as it was, Gillian knew she needed to maintain her strength if she was going to get out of this place. She could expect no help from the family. She'd gone on this one alone, and that was the way it would end.

The green gruel in the basin didn't look as if it held much nutrition, but it was better than nothing. She settled herself against a wall, groaning. Every movement woke a pain in her. She'd come through the ordeal reasonably well, so far. She had a tooth missing and miscellaneous aches and pains, and she knew she had a black eye.

She'd gone over every brick in the dungeon, examined the solid bluestone foundation, and found nothing. There was no way out. The guards never once came into the cell, so any hope of overpowering them was out of the question.