Broken Tenets Read online

  **

  “Get up,” Scarab said again, shaking Tenet's shoulder.

  “Mmmph,” he grumbled, cracking open an eye. “Why can't you ever wake me up during a bad dream, huh?”

  “Sky's cloudy today. We're in luck!” She grinned at him and stood up, already dressed for the day and raring to go.

  Tenet sighed. “It was a nice one, too,” he said as he sat. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and held his hand our for the water and mystery food he knew she had waiting. He took a sip of the water. “Wish it was coffee. Mmmm. Coffee.” The very thought was heaven.

  “You'll have coffee at base camp. Get up and we'll be that much closer.”

  Tenet gnawed on the food and drank down the water, then stood and stretched. “Boy, a full eight hours of sleep really makes a difference, eh? I feel great.”

  “Good,” she said, tossing him his suit. “You're gonna need the energy.”

  “Still wish I got to finish that dream.”

  “Pretty girl, eh?” she asked with amusement as she puttered around to set everything right.

  He shook his head. “No, actually. I dreamed I was a bounty hunter in Winter.”

  Scarab rolled her eyes. “Hasn't this taught you anything?”

  “Yes.” He pulled on his boots and locked them, then pulled on the gloves. The task had seemed almost impossible just a week before. Now, he felt like a pro. “It taught me that I'm tougher than I thought.”

  Scarab sighed and snatched up his blankets. “Don't go getting cocky on me again. I'm just starting to be less annoyed with you.”

  “I'm not being cocky. I really mean it. I had no idea I'd be able to do anything, let alone survive in Summer.”

  “Then...” Her curiosity almost got the better of her. She never asked her bounties their reasons. She was sure they had them, and equally sure she didn't care. In the end, did reason ever really matter? No. She still had to save them...or not. And the whys of it all were pointless. She almost asked. “Well, good. You'll need that energy,” she said instead. “It's actually cloudy.”

  Very rarely, usually not even once a Summer, some huge storm would blow in and cover the sky with a beautiful blanket of blessed clouds. They never lasted long. The arid land would suck up the moisture all too quickly. But it was a wonder when it happened, and they needed to take full advantage of it.

  “How's the foot?”

  She felt the heat creep up her neck and was glad she was looking away and he couldn't see. “Fine. You ready?”

  Tenet looked around. “We're not cleaning up more?”

  Scarab shrugged. “Do you really think they'd notice if we did?”

  Tenet laughed then, the first real laugh in many days. “No, probably not.”

  She actually smiled back at him. “Good. Let's go.”

  They enjoyed the morning stroll. That's what it felt like to Tenet; they were taking a break from the endless plodding in the scorching heat and taking a refreshing stroll in the shade. It was amazing to him how everything seemed different. Less of a death trap, and more serene. It was like night without the spookiness, and he found that he was truly enjoying it. The break in the heat also meant that they could move faster. As in night, the only temperature to truly worry about came from the sand. They kept on the masks, at Scarab's insistence, only because the sun could show itself without warning. Overall, it was a very pleasant morning.

  They stopped for another dose of water. During the day, they had to drink it through the masks. It had been tricky to learn how to get the water in the mouth and not down the front of the mask to be gobbled up by the thirsty ground, but Tenet had gotten the hang of it. They even found a rock that was mostly in shade to sit on. It wasn't terribly hot, and Scarab said they could have a decent break. “Need any food?”

  Drinking water through the mask was hard enough. Tenet had yet to master eating. Besides, he didn't feel that hungry. “No, I'll pass.”

  “Just checking.”

  He looked up at the cloudy sky. The clouds looked thinner by the minute. “They're leaving,” he said, in a voice so dejected that Scarab laughed.

  “Aw, just be grateful we've seen them at all. I've gone entire Summers without a single cloud.”

  “How do you do it?” he asked, still looking at the sky.

  Scarab frowned. “Do what?”

  He looked at her and waved his hands around. “This. The off seasoning. How do you do it year after year?”

  The thought to not answer him flashed through her, but for some reason, she ignored it. Maybe it was the pleasant morning. Maybe it was the knowledge that she still had to tell him how close the wraiths were, and how far they still had to go to be safe. Maybe she really was just slipping. For whatever reason, though, she wanted to answer his question.

  “I do it because it's what I know.”

  Tenet sighed. “Well that's not a real answer. Or, if you ask me, even a legitimate one. Certainly you could do something else. Everyone can do something else.”

  Scarab sighed. He was right. It wasn't really an answer at all. “I do it because it's what I like. Is that a better answer?”

  He looked at her and cocked his head. “You like this? You like the heat and the cold and the constant mission of saving screw-ups like myself?”

  Scarab didn't even know how much it took for him to admit that he, the son of the exalted Leader, head of his class and head of every other class to boot, was a screw-up. It made her suddenly feel like admitting something herself. “That's the problem with people,” she said seemingly out of left field. “They say something big and grand and then expect you to do the same.”

  Tenet was truly confused. He didn't say anything big and grand, just said the truth. “So you're saying you don't like people?”

  “Yes, I guess. I don't like people. There. That's why I do this.” It wasn't. They both knew it. But before he could reply, a terrifying sound cut through their peaceful moment. Tenet had never heard anything like it. His life of privilege had left him little to be afraid of. He had never been hunted, nor truly in danger. In that moment, though, some primal part of him knew that noise, recognized the danger, and screamed “run”.

  Tenet bolted up and began to run, with Scarab hot on his heels. “Slow down,” she yelled. He didn't listen, couldn't hear her. His racing heart was all he could hear. “Run, run, run,” it beat in his ears. “Run...for....your...life.”

  After nearly half a mile, Scarab finally caught him and yanked on his arm. “Stop!”

  He wasn't expecting the tug, and instinct took over. For a mad moment he struggled and tried to fight, until her voice made it though to him. “Stop now!”

  He stopped and looked, panic clearing from his eyes. Scarab. It was just Scarab. He stood there and tried to catch his breath, while she swore at him.

  “That,” she said panting, “is the call of a wraith. A pair, actually.”

  Tenet shook his head, his heart still racing, trying to regain control. He calmed down and tried to get a hold of himself. Never in his life had he reacted so...so...cowardly. Shame filled him, and it must have shown on his face, because Scarab shook her head.

  “Don't. Don't feel bad. Happens to everyone the first time they hear the calling.”

  “I...I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry...”

  “No. It's alright. It happens to everybody. Usually I do a better job preparing, and usually the first call they hear is from behind a sealed door or when we're already on the move. You caught me by surprise is all.”

  “Everybody?” he asked skeptically. It was hard to imagine the criminal element she hunted reacting with such humiliating lack of bravery.

  But she nodded and said with certainty, “Everybody. I don't know why. The toughest outlaws to the most scared Forgottens, everybody's first reaction is to run far and fast. Must be an ingrained survival instinct or something.”

  Tenet's breathing had slowed and his heart beat returned to almost normal. “What exactly was that? Wraiths c
an't scream.”

  She shook her head. “No. Maybe that's what takes everyone by surprise. They can't scream, exactly. It's more of a whistle. They use it for long distance communication. Listen. We're bound to hear it again.”

  Tenet stood and listened, scanning the horizon as he did. They were on a ranch far from his own, now, one he had never seen in his life. The hills rolled gently, and there were no signs of trees. They weren't even near enough to any structure to offer even a measure of comfort. The second call ripped through the air, and his heart started again. The combination of the most horrific sound of something hunting him and the knowledge that there was absolutely nowhere to hide made his feet twitch to take off again. The only thing that held him steady was Scarab's gloved hand on his suit. He couldn't feel the pressure, but just knowing it was there locked him in place.

  “It's alright,” she said, frowning. “We're alright for at least another day.”

  “How can you tell?” To Tenet, it sounded as if they were hot on their heels and closing in fast.

  “Practice,” was all she said. “Let's go.”

  They picked up the pace just as the sun burned off the last of the blessed clouds. They didn't talk all afternoon, Tenet out of fear, Scarab out of determination to get them to a safe place. As evening approached, instead of taking their usual rest before the last push to whatever barn they could find, Scarab offered him his meal and water on the move.

  “No. I'll wait.”

  “You sure? We'll be on the move awhile.”

  But Tenet couldn't eat. He stomach was a fist of fear, and he doubted he'd be able to eat even safely in a barn. They pressed on.

  The moon rose over the horizon, but this time Tenet didn't take any comfort in either the cooler temperatures, or the surreality of the scenery. Every shadow made him jump, every dip over the horizon in the dark brought apprehension. They walked for hours in the dark before coming upon any sort of structure.

  It wasn't a barn, it was an outpost. The ranch they were on was obviously sheep land. Wide and mostly flat, with no rows that indicated Agro. The outpost was just another clue.

  “We're in the Meatlands already?” he half asked, half stated with surprise.

  Scarab nodded, surprised herself at his observations. “Yeah. Crossed into it today.”

  He tried to do the math in his head. “We've walked that far already?”

  Scarab chuckled. “Amazing how fast you can move if you have to, eh?” They reached the outpost and Scarab quickly unsealed the door.

  Outposts were a necessary part of a difficult profession. The lands not fit for farming food were used as grazing lands for sheep, cows, and chickens. The meat ranches tended to be large, with enormous herds of animals free to roam wherever they wanted. Because of this, every corner of the land, and many spaces in the center, had to be carefully watched. Every meat ranch had a team of highly trained staff, mostly ex military, whose sole mission in life was to kill anything that threatened the animals. Set up like military bunkers, the outposts housed the men around the clock. Many never entered a proper town again once they signed on, having everything they needed in one place and a solitary attitude to match. They had their own transports to the Winter lands, with the animals. It was a nasty, dirty, messy job. It was awful, but necessary. Tenet never felt too badly for those stationed in the outposts. It took a certain breed of man to be able to handle such a job, and anyone fit for that life should probably remain away from society.

  The inside of the outpost shocked Tenet. Outside it looked like a bunker. Inside, it was downright cozy. Unlike the barns they'd been camped out in, these were homes. Couches, sets, dishes, photos... This was someone's home. The though of trespassing in it made Tenet shudder.

  Scarab glanced at him and knew what he was thinking. “Don't worry. Unlike the owners of the Agro ranches, these guys know we're here.”

  “They do?”

  “We have a pact. It's necessary. This particular outpost is the home of Burt.”

  Tenet quirked an eyebrow. “Burt who?”

  Scarab shrugged. “That's all I know. Burt. And,” she said, moving to the kitchen area, “if I know Burt....” She rummaged around the cupboard for a minute and gave a whoop of delight. “Yes!”

  Tenet smiled at her exuberance. “What?”

  “Coffee!” She took a little chip taped to the top of the can, then plugged it into her com. A rough old voice crackled through when she played it. “Here ya go, girlie. Sugar's in the tin on the counter. Hope your outlaw ain't givin' ya too much trouble now. If he's a rough one, don't share.” The voice cackled into laughter, then said, “I left some goodies for ya. Real classic stuff. Don't forget to check you know where before you leave. Really, Scarab. When ya gonna give this up?”

  Scarab smiled through the mild admonition, then recorded her own message on the chip. “When you do, old man. And thanks.” She removed the chip from her com and taped it back on the lid. She turned to Tenet with a grin. “See? Told you he knew I was coming.”

  “How did he know it would be you?”

  She shrugged. “This is my connection. Anyone else wouldn't have made it in the door.”

  Tenet was about to ask what she meant, but let it go. Burt obviously had an arrangement with her, so he relaxed and removed his mask. She did the same, but warned him not to get too comfy yet. “We can't stay long, but damn do I need coffee!” She got her gloves off in record time and easily found her way around the kitchen. When the coffee was ready, she jumped up out of the kitchen chair and almost ran to the pot. She filled two mugs, then dumped sugar in both. Tenet was about to object to the sugar, but who was he to complain? Coffee. In the middle of nowhere. Sugar or no didn't really matter. She reached up into the cupboard and removed two white lumps.

  “What's that?”

  “Try it,” she said, plopping one in each cup.

  “But...”

  Scarab sighed and handed him the mug. “Just try it, alright?”

  Tenet sat at the table with the coffee and took a sip. Heaven. That's what it was. A little slice of normalcy in an otherwise absurd situation. And Scarab was right. Whatever she put in the cup made it even more wonderful. He doubted any other cup of coffee for the rest of his life would ever taste so perfect. They may be great, but they would never live up to the pleasure of this unexpected oasis.

  “Good, no?” she said, grinning and reaching for her second cup.

  He decided to savor his, swirling it around in his mouth. “You have no idea.” He watched her once again add the mysterious white lump into her cup. “So what is it, anyway?”

  She looked at him for a second before mumbling an answer.

  “What was that?” he asked, leaning forward.

  “Cow's milk. Dried cows milk.”

  Tenet froze with the cup halfway to his mouth. “You've got to be joking.”

  She sighed. “Oh here we go.”

  “You...you fed me...cow's milk?” He was absolutely stunned that she would do something like that without his knowledge.

  “You liked it before you knew what it was.”

  Tenet Bradwin, IV, had just eaten cow's milk. He slowly put the cup on the table and looked around for the sink. “I think I'm going to be sick.”

  Scarab rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of...”

  He jumped up and leaned over the sink, sure that the coffee would come back up at any moment.

  “Tenet, millions of people drink cow's milk.”

  He opened his mouth and waited.

  “I bet you've tried it yourself.”

  He gagged a little.

  “Come on. You mean to say that at your fancy parties they don't serve cheese?”

  Tenet shook his head. “That's not the same. It's been treated.”

  “It's still animal product.”

  “Drinking the milk,” he said trying to control his building anger, “is barbaric. It's stealing from babies.”

  “Ah ha. There you go. Cheese, as treated as it
may be, is from milk, which is for the babies. Your kind eats cheese.”

  “As a rare novelty harvested from cows whose young have died or been weaned!” His temper was boiling now. How dare she accuse him of harming an animal for his personal gain? “It's a matter of not letting it go to waste, not stealing it from a poor defenseless baby, and I'll have an apology for the accusation!”

  Scarab sighed and leaned back against the counter. It was far from the first time she had heard the argument, and she knew it wouldn't be the last. “I'm not accusing you of being anything but the most respectful citizen. Satisfied?”

  But Tenet was not, and he refused to pretend. “You've had a tone of condescension about me. Fine. I understand that. I'm used to that. You get a pretty thick skin when you're a constant target. You want to think I'm high and mighty, that's just fine by me. But I'll not have it be said by anyone that I would ever, ever harm an animal. That has nothing to do with breeding or fancy dinner parties or anything other than a solid moral fiber that being wealthy does not negate!”

  Scarab threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Forgive me for lumping you in with the rest of society's elite. Pardon me if most of your kind spend their days making a bad name for all!”

  “And what it that supposed to mean? My kind?”

  Now she was the one getting heated. “You high and mighty, you rich sitting on your thrones and spitting on the working class. You're all the same on almost every level...”

  Tenet crossed his arms over his chest. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said 'almost' every level. So you don't eat meat or drink milk. Fine. Good for you. I'll give you a friggin' gold star for your imaginary contribution to society. But I'll take it right back again when you dare to have the audacity to look down on those whose only option for survival is to use what nature has supplied.”

  Tenet shook his head, dropped his arms, and took a step closer. “Oh, no. No. You're not giving me that garbage about cost of living a good and moral life! I've heard it before and I summarily reject the implications.”

  Scarab scoffed and took a step as well. “Summarily reject? How can you summarily reject the truth? You Agros with your friggin' power...you drive up the cost of what should be given freely and sit on your thrones built by the sweat and tears of those less fortunate.”

  Tenet leaned in. It wasn't necessary. There was no chance his words would be hard to hear. But in that moment, he was angrier than he had ever been in his life. “First off, missy...”

  “Missy?” she squeaked, her face burning with rage.

  “You have no idea how hard my family works for all they have. Bone weary, incredibly hard work. Secondly, we do not, in fact, drive prices up on anything. The prices are set by the global market and it is the consumer who is to blame for whatever value there is.”

  “And by 'the consumer', of course, you mean large corporations and the elite of society which...”

  “...are the ones that do all the buying!”

  “Exactly!” she said, throwing her hands in the air again. “You just made my point. You cater to you, and the ones like you, and screw whoever can't keep up!”

  Tenet leaned back and threw his own hands in the air. “Oh, and that's my fault? It's my fault I work hard and produce a desirable product for all the others who do the same? What, I'm supposed to earn nothing for my efforts? What would you have me do? Give it all away?” He gave a bitter laugh. “Where's the fairness in that?”

  “You tell that to the young father who's been doled out a crop by this sainted government of yours and busts his ass on friggin' alfalfa around the clock just to try and make ends meet. You look him in the eye when he has his first heart attack at thirty from all the stress and pressure and effort and you tell him that he just didn't work hard enough to get to eat your blessed corn.”

  The words hung in the air between them, and Tenet's anger instantly disappeared. Those weren't the words from someone societal outcast. Those weren't the words from someone speaking in the abstract. Those words were filled with too much pain to be someone else's story. He had no idea what to say.

  Scarab swore softly to herself and slumped back in the chair. Too much. This annoying kid, this spoiled brat had gotten her too heated, let her defenses drop. Professionalism. She needed to regain her professionalism. “Look,” she said, with an evenness she didn't feel. “Let's drop it. You're an Agro. I apologize about the milk, even though I personally find it ridiculous that you won't drink it. Doesn't hurt the cow a bit to use its milk.” She raised a hand to stop the argument that was about to rekindle. “We don't see eye to eye. That's fine. Everyone has a right to their opinion.”

  Tenet swallowed a lump in his throat. She looked...defeated. “Scarab, I...”

  “It's fine. No more milk. Got it.” She took his cup and drank it down, both to prove her point and not waste it. She filled it again with just coffee and handed it over. He took the cup and tried to drink, but the coffee left an incredibly bitter taste. It really was better the other way.

  They sat in silence for a while, the only noise an old-fashioned clock above the antique stove. He tried another sip of the coffee, but almost gagged. Silently he got up and added sugar. That was better, but nothing like the milk. He couldn't believe he even thought it, and didn't doubt that he'd never actually say it. But damn, that milk sure tasted good. He couldn't help but chuckle with the thought of the look on his father's face if he ever told him.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.” She turned back to her careful study of anything but him, and he went back to his own thoughts. So she was a milk drinker. He wondered if her addiction to animal products ended there. Oh, now, he couldn't be faulted for the few times he had tried cheese. He had it first hand from the meat farmers that it was cast off milk, that some calf had died or something and left the mother crying to be milked. What was the worse sin? Using it, or letting it go to waste?

  And she was wrong about the economy, so very wrong. People were assigned the crops they could handle, and that was a fact. If her father was given alfalfa, there was a reason behind it. It wasn't a lottery. Skills were assessed, and the career carefully chosen to highlight those skills. Most often alfalfa went to someone who insisted they wanted to be added to the Agro pool, but didn't quite measure up. It wasn't a death sentence. It wasn't even a punishment. It was simply the best system they could come up with. Her father had choices. He could have chosen to be a laborer. Or an accountant. Perhaps he was even highly intelligent and would have made an excellent addition to the science pool. People tended to stick with what they were best at, but sometimes their desire to be better at something else got the better of them. Was it an ideal situation? No. And, when you got right down to it, it placed the government in a real pickle. They couldn't force a born scientist to enter the science pool, and they couldn't make a scientist become a good farmer. If you couldn't decide where you fit in life, how was that the fault of the government?

  And, to be even more honest, he'd never point out the glaring fact that a career is not a life long sentence. He knew of many people just in the Agro League alone who had swapped crops. One scandalous individual actually gave up top wheat to be a day laborer in their communications center. It wasn't impossible to change. It wasn't even that difficult. You submit and application to the Career Director's Board and they review your qualifications. He refused to feel any guilt at all that Scarab's father was too lazy to fill out the paperwork. He felt bad for her, sure. He never thought her life was easy before, and her inadvertent confession certainly added to her the picture. But he wasn't to blame. Those like him weren't to blame. And most certainly the government wasn't to blame. He felt bad, but it wasn't his fault.

  “So, uh...how long are we here for?” Time to get on a safe subject.

  “A little while longer. I'm waiting for the moon to set, then we'll continue.”

  “In total darkness?”

  She shrugged. “It's safer. And it's not
actually total darkness. Beacons come on late at night.” Tenet reached for more coffee, but she shook her head. “No more.”

  “Why not?” he asked in a deeply disappointed tone.

  “Goes right through you, and we can't stop to dump the bags.”

  Tenet cleared his throat, still embarrassed because of his upbringing at the very mention of something so personal as “the bags”. Waste collection bags. It was a disgusting, but necessary, part of the suit which he normally tried to clean out of her sight. “Oh. Yeah.” He cleared his throat again. “Beacons?”

  “Yes, for the bounty hunters. They come on late, after the moon has set or on nights where there is no moon.”

  “Wait. If there are beacons, then the grid has to be on.”

  She shook her head. “Beacons run on a different system.” She stood and grabbed his empty cup, rinsing it and the coffee pot in the sink. “It's actually an emergency system. The wiring for it is the old style...actual wires in a grid, both in the Winter and Summer lands.”

  Tenet had no idea such a system existed. “Real wires? How do they hold up in the heat?”

  “They go very deep underground, encased in thick tubes designed to block out temperatures of up to 1,000 degrees.”

  Tenet whistled. “Wow. Now that's hot!”

  Scarab gave a small smile. “You can say that again.”

  “How do you know so much about it?”

  She shrugged. “Your life depends on it, you learn all you can.” And with that understatement, she turned and walked toward a door in the back. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Burt said he left me a treasure. Let's go on a little hunt.”