Broken Tenets Page 5

  Chapter 3

  Days passed. Since the night in the barn, the two only spoke when absolutely necessary. Tenet was deeply embarrassed at his own foolishness and lack of preparation and thought. He brooded for the first full day about it before the humbling thought of how quickly this woman helped. True, she criticized every step of the way. Even when she was healing, she was tearing open another kind of wound. But, the fact remained that she did help him. Was it to keep her investment safe? Did it really matter?

  So Tenet resolved to follow her lead. He decided he had no choice, since she was right. He had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, if he'd been thinking at all, when he embarked on this half-baked scheme to prove...what, exactly? Before the migration, it all seemed so clear to him. He wanted to prove himself to be a man in his father's eyes. Not that he admitted it, not even to himself, back then. Then, he did it to be one of the few who had, and that was all he thought drove him. The next level in his lifelong crusade of daring. But as he walked in silence, every step sending shards of pain through him in spite of the clothing Scarab supplied, the purpose of his journey became more and more clear.

  He wasn't out here for himself. When he got right down to it, nothing he had ever done had been for himself. He did it all for his father. His kind father. His loving father. His demanding father.

  At one point in the endless days of walking, he tried to bring it up to Scarab. “Do you want to know what it's like to be the son of the exalted Leader?” But she had answered with a curt "no", so he continued his self assessment alone.

  True, he had everything. Mostly everything, anyway. He was a loss with the ladies. But his mother constantly reminded him that his own father suffered from the same bad luck until they met when his father was well into his forties. That actually didn't concern him overly. His mind rarely wandered in that direction, and when it did, he shut the thoughts down as quickly as possible. He wasn't interested in settling down with a family, so women weren't a top priority. He'd have plenty of time later.

  He also had no interest in government. Oh, he tried. He went to the meetings with his father, knew all the heads of the world by first name even. He grew up with them, Council members as his godfathers and “uncles”, gifts on his birthday from those who helped rule the world. His holidays were filled with global hotshots, and the heads of Agro. He was born into it, even if he always secretly longed for something different. His father reminded him over and over what was expected. So he went to the Academy and excelled. He graduated top of his class, though whether it was because of his own accomplishments or his status, he questioned several times. He enrolled in the military service and would have no doubt been some high ranking general in no time had he had the opportunity. Early into service, though, his mother's heritage was scrutinized and he was honorably discharged for “reasons beyond his control”. His mother's family hailed from a small band of outlaws who attempted to settle off border. He didn't know the details, as it was quickly brushed under the carpet. The press never even found out. And though it was in no way his fault, his father still looked at him with contempt whenever the military was mentioned.

  His mother never explained. That bothered him greatly. Several times he had asked her why it was such a bad thing, why it was enough to keep him out of the military. She'd simply laugh it off and tell him not to worry about it. “It's nothing you or I can change, so does it really matter?” But it did. It did matter. Tenet wanted the gossip of it, true. But he also felt that it could explain his own streak of independence and defiance. His entire life had been spent secretly rebelling against everything his father wanted for him, and he never knew why. This ill-fated journey was simply the culmination of all those regressed incidents where something said to rebel, and he didn't.

  Long days passed, then finally, when they were breaking into yet another barn, Scarab broke her code of silence. “Tonight we get about eight hours. You made good time today. Maybe there's hope for you yet.”

  He felt a pride he had never known. Over the days of thought and introspection, his body started to adapt. The footsteps that once made a clear trail right to him had changed into a more sporadic pattern, lessening with every step he took. He was getting the hang of walking. Not a great accomplishment, the very basic. But it was something.

  His stamina was growing by the hour as well with her constant pushing. He never passed an opportunity to eat whatever it was she kept feeding him, and part of him actually began to look forward to it. Whatever it was boosted him, and that's all that mattered. Truth be told, he was starting to even like the taste. Another subtle change was how willing he was becoming to listen to her curt directives without arguing back. In one of her more talkative moments the previous night, she said simply, “Wraiths will be hunting soon. Be alert.” He was shocked to catch himself actually doing that.

  She opened the door and he walked inside, no longer shuddering at the idea of trespass. As she had done for every barn they stayed in, she made an autonote about what they used. He didn't have to ask to know that meant she'd be replacing the items. They always spent a careful hour combing the barns before leaving to make sure there was absolutely no sign that they had been there, and not once had he caught her snooping. This hunter, at least, respected the owners' privacy.

  As had become the routine, Tenet walked past her while she sealed the door and found the emergency bin. He removed the supplies for her foot baths, which seemed to be her one indulgence in life, and his bedding. She never used bedding, sleeping upright in any chair she could find to remain half alert. What a horrible life, in Tenet's mind. If Summers were this rough, he couldn't imagine how bad the Winters were.

  She slid her feet into the water, then swore softly.

  Tenet finished getting out of his suit and walked over. “What's the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she said testily. “Go to bed.”

  Tenet sighed. “Back to silence, huh?” Scarab said nothing and tried to wave him off. Enough was enough. “I said, what's the matter?”

  “And I said go to bed!”

  Tenet rolled his eyes and pulled her feet from the water. She squirmed and punched him, but when push came to shove, he was stronger. In an instant he saw what she was swearing about and his eyes went wide. The entire sole of one foot was a nasty burn. “Oh my god,” he said, half to himself at the shock of such an extensive injury.

  Scarab pulled and tugged, but eventually the pain of fighting when he had such a strong hold on her was too great and she sat brooding and deeply embarrassed. It was one thing for Tenet to have such injuries. He had no idea what he was doing, a complete newbie to off seasoning. She, on the other hand, was supposed to be a professional. Scarab was humiliated to the core. “It's not as bad as it looks,” she said bitterly.

  Tenet looked at her and cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing. He went to the first aid bin and removed what supplies were there. “Understocked,” he said, setting the items in a pile next to her chair. “We'll have to do the best we can.”

  “I'll do it myself, thank you,” she sniped at him.

  He refused to let her foot go, just calmly held it until she settled back down. “Fine,” she huffed.

  Tenet looked at the wet burn and tried to decide what to do. He actually knew a lot about doctoring as his mother was their ranch healer. Even after she wed such a powerful man, she refused to give up the practice. “We can hire a laborer to do that!” his father had raged over and over through his life. But she insisted there was a touch that any old day laborer couldn't master. When his father wasn't dragging him from one political function or another, Tenet could be found learning from his mother. He didn't want to be either a doctor or, of more status, a ranch healer. But he was fascinated by it nonetheless.

  The burn was bad. There was no doubt in his mind it was the worst he'd seen. Still, a burn was a burn and should be treated like any other, just on a larger scale. The first aid kit had been lacking in a lot of medicinal basics. The only s
alve it contained was for abrasions. A simple silver compound would have cured her foot in a matter of days. He cursed softly under his breath as he rifled through the supplies on hand.

  “What?” she asked, acid still in her voice.

  “I was muttering about fining whoever owns this place. Not even a silver salve. Can you believe it? How irresponsible can people be?”

  Scarab scoffed. “Said by the kid who came on this mission half-cocked.”

  Instead of arguing, much to her surprise he agreed. “True. But I'm not responsible for an entire ranch of hands. I'm not putting anyone else in danger.” He finally settled on a basic antibiotic ointment and gauze. It worked in the old days, it would have to work now. Surely the owners of the next barn they invaded would be more responsible.

  Scarab crossed her arms over her chest. “You're putting me in danger.”

  Tenet shook his head and smiled. “Oh no. I admit I don't know a lot about bounty hunting, but I'm quite sure that you've done this to yourself. You didn't have to take this bounty. Your choice.”

  His words stung because they were true. She did this to herself. She lead this rough life out of choice. Scarab set her jaw and sulked in silence while her bounty worked on her foot.

  Tenet probed the burn and shook his head again. “Look, there's nothing I can do until it's drained.” The words were said sympathetically, and that added to Scarab's rage.

  “Then drain it.”

  Tenet stood and said, “Let me just see if they have an anesthetic or a...”

  “No. Just do it.”

  Tenet was about to object, but saw the determination in her eyes. Damn fool, but what could he do about it? Fine. Let her pretend to be tough. Carefully he took her foot again and began to probe. To her credit, and much to Tenet's admiration, she didn't even flinch. Though it had to be incredibly painful, Scarab remained stoic through the entire process. When it was finally done, and her foot bandaged as best as could be with the lacking supplies, Tenet started to apologize for having to do it, but she cut him off sharply.

  “Save your apologies. Never apologize for doing what has to be done.”

  She didn't thank him, but she didn't yell at him, either. Tenet figured it was about as much of a display of gratitude that he was likely to get. He gathered up the unused supplies and headed back to the emergency bin, while Scarab made a note in her com about the ranch and supplies she would need to refill.

  Tenet returned with his blanket and spread it out near her chair. Instantly she was offended at the protectiveness of the act. “Move.”

  Tenet sighed. “In case you hadn't noticed, this place is not only lacking in supplies, but incredibly filthy. The pen hasn't been cleaned in years, by the looks, and the empty grain cube's even worse.”

  Scarab turned to look and he was right. The place was a mess. She sighed and resigned herself to the fact that they'd be sleeping close for the night. “Hand me your suit, at least.”

  He lay down on his blanket and shook his head. “Already set it to charge. Yours too.”

  When had he done that?

  “I've got to look at that boot, at least.”

  “Boot's scrap. I think you should use your spare.”

  How did he even know she had a spare? Did he actually have that much faith in her even after she let herself get so badly injured? “I can fix it,” she said, growing more annoyed by the second. She thought he was going to ignore her, and started to stand herself.

  He sighed. “Fine, I'll get it. But if it burned your foot that badly, it's ruined and you know it.”

  She didn't like his new-found competence. Just what had he been brooding about for days that brought it about? He tossed her the boot, then turned over on his blanket and went to sleep. She glared at him for awhile longer, then investigated the boot.

  The boots were a simple design. Though the suits had wiring and required charging, and the masks ranged from basic to rocket science depending on the quality, boots were pretty much the same. Sure the newest ones were constructed of a fancy material to make them lightweight, but the design itself was the same. Make enough layers to withstand the heat, and add some locks that others couldn't break into easily. The locking mechanisms had been added when bounty hunters were found scorched from the feet up. As subhuman and appalling as it was, it happened. Bounty hunters would turn on each other and commit the most despicable acts simply because they could. With no law to stop them, no one to hold them accountable, bounty hunting did attract a certain sect of the population that abused the freedom. Every bit of a hunter's suit had some type of lock, but the locks of the boots were nearly impossible to open illegally without destroying the boots themselves. Even the most basic of equipment had it.

  As Scarab inspected the boot, she discovered it was that lock that had failed. The mechanism looked like it failed simply because it was used too often. There were hunters that insisted on never removing their boots until they needed a new pair. Scarab always thought that was sheer paranoia. Now she wasn't so sure. Sighing to herself, she flipped it over and checked the soles. They were fine. It was definitely the lock. Sand had worked its way in through the broken lock, and probably for quite some time. She was lucky she got this far with them, but it didn't make her feel lucky. It just made her feel incompetent. She should have noticed a broken lock right after it happened. But at the end of a long, hot day, the thoughts of the cool foot baths she indulged in made her rush. Tenet shifted in his sleep, and she looked up to make sure she wasn't caught once again failing. He settled back down and resumed his soft snoring.

  Scarab stood up and limped towards her sack. Damn but it hurt to walk! She knew that tomorrow morning would be better, especially in the new pair of boots she'd been saving. Tenet's doctoring skills had been surprising, and just added to her growing curiosity about him. He pretended to know everything he didn't, and kept secret what he actually knew. And despite the curt words born of embarrassment, she was truly grateful for his skill. She herself only knew the basics, and truly felt fear when she saw the condition of her foot. Still, it bothered her to no end that she actually had to rely on a bounty to come to her aide. Was she slipping?

  She reached in her sack and removed the new boots, tossing them back towards her chair for lock programming. Then she limped on to the door with both of the old boots. Some hunters sold their old equipment to be refurbished, a practice Scarab thought was just plain wrong. Some new hunter with very little startup would get the equipment, and she knew first hand how truly second rate it was. Refurbishment weakened an already weakened product. Period. Lives depended on the equipment to be solid, no matter how old. In the past few off seasons, the practice had grown, and several young hopefuls had paid the ultimate price. She refused to be part of that shady business.

  Scarab unsealed the door and tossed the boots as far as she could. Within a few days, the constant heat of the sand would break down the majority of the material, and the rest would be buried deep under the blowing dust or carried off by curious critters. The process was beginning already as she watched by moonlight. The insides of the boots weren't meant to handle any great temperature and as the baking sand filled them, they began to smolder. She watched them for a minute before a sound in the distance cut through her like a knife.

  Wraiths. On the hunt. Two by the sounds of it. Tenet was correct when he said they had no vocal chords. Most of their communication was done by gestures and a series of huffy breaths. But that was when they were together, close and in sight. They had developed a way of long distance communication, a sharp and terrifying whistle. Their shrill calls back and forth could be heard for miles. She listened carefully, trying to judge their distance. It was difficult to tell how far away they were. With no trees or plants to muffle sound, it carried and echoed. Only her years of hunting had taught her how to pick out where they were, but even that took time. The hairs on her neck stood up as the calls went on for nearly half an hour. In the end, she determined that they were quite a dist
ance away, and traveling in the other direction. They should be safe here, but just for the night. When the wraiths didn't find anything alive, they'd be heading northeast, just like Scarab and Tenet. She hoped that they didn't discover the tracks, and was tempted to get Tenet up and get moving.

  But the breeze that night was strong, and she knew that any tracks that had been made would be blown over. She may be slipping as a hunter, but she still knew the basics. Eat when you can, sleep when you can, and push hard when you have to. She could go right now. Her bounty could not.

  She closed the door and limped back to her chair. Wraiths. She stared at Tenet's back and wondered just how he'd take the news. A few days ago, she would have bet he'd run screaming for the hills, the whole time professing to know exactly what to do if he saw one. Now, she wasn't so sure. It was tempting to wake him and let him decide for himself if he was up to pushing through, but she shook the idea off. She was the hunter, it was her call. Let him sleep. Another bitter reality would be on him soon enough. She closed her eyes and drifted off into her half sleep.