by Beth Reason
Chapter 4
Tenet sat and twirled the gun over and over in his hand. Two guns, more of those mystery dinner lumps, and a gadget he didn't understand but Scarab was extremely excited about. That was the treasure. She assured him that the gadget was great, and he knew they needed the resupply of food. Those things, he could consider treasures. But at the moment, his curiosity over the gadget and his excitement over the food were tempered by the feel of the stone cold killing machine in his hand.
“I don't even know what to say,” Scarab babbled in her excitement. “I owe Burt...well, I probably owe him the soul of my firstborn child by now!” She was pressing buttons on the little machine, oblivious to his inner turmoil.
A gun. A real gun. Empty, she assured him as she handed it over. Empty for now. Soon it would contain little hunks of metal that would be used to kill. Because of his anticipated military career, one of his main courses at the Academy focused on weapons handling. But not even the military used death weapons anymore, even in the poorest areas of the globe. The weapons he used stunned and incapacitated the opponent, but caused no lasting harm. To kill, to use a weapon that actually killed...he wasn't a bot. He wasn't a meat herder. He wasn't a barbarian. It sat heavier in him than the now curdling milk in his stomach.
“I won't shoot a person,” he said quietly.
“What?” Scarab looked up from her new-found toy and saw the look on his face. She took the gun from his hands like it was just another hunk of junk and stuffed it in her sack. “You're damned right. You're not getting near that thing when it's loaded.”
“I mean it,” he said, not listening to her. “I will never take a human life.”
“You would if you had to.”
He wondered for an instant if she ever had to, then quickly left the question unanswered. He honestly didn't want to know. “How did Burt get those things?”
“The guns?” She shrugged. “He'd have to have some lying around. I mean, he's an outposter. Gotta kill for a living, and he's not going to get the job done with a screamer.”
“But those...those aren't regulation.”
“No. They're classics. In case you hadn't notice, Burt has a thing for antiques.”
Tenet shuddered. “How do you program it to train on the right animal?”
Scarab looked up from her sack, once again astounded by how naïve he truly was. “You don't.”
Tenet got up and tried to shake off the willies. “That's wrong. That's just wrong. What if you shoot the wrong thing?”
“Well, hopefully you're good enough not to.” She finished putting the rest of her bounty in her sack and hefted it. “It's a little heavy. Don't suppose you want to take one of the guns in your sack?”
Tenet jumped back and put his hands up. “No way.”
With some of her bounties, she hid the fact that she was armed. She knew just looking someone in the eye exactly what kind of criminal they were. Most were more of the pickpocket brand. Harmless, really, just lock everything when they're around. But there had been a few that had that look, that gleam in their eyes that said clearly they were just waiting for the opportunity.
Tenet couldn't even stand holding a gun. She could give him one fully loaded, and she couldn't imagine a situation in which she'd actually have to worry he'd pull the trigger. His aversion to weaponry was not surprising, but it was also not the relief it should have been. The wraiths were farther north than they should be, by easily a week. Chances were looking better and better that at some point, she'd have to arm her bounty. The look on his face told her that she had a lot of work to do in that department before the time came.
“Come on, Tenet. It's not even loaded. It's just heavy. I'm carting around the food and the water...”
“I'll take that. You keep the guns.”
Scarab didn't like that idea one bit. Food and water were her responsibility, supposed to be under her control. This bounty was getting out of hand. “Take the gun.”
He shook his head. “Hand me the food.”
She reached in her sack and took out a gun, then sat there holding it out to him. “Take it. You're not controlling the food.”
He laughed then. “What do you think I'll do with it, hm? Wait till you're asleep and choke it all down? My guts would kill me if I even tried!”
“I'm not worried about what you'll do with the food,” she said coldly, “but what someone or something will do to you to get it.”
That stopped his laughter. Without another word he snatched the gun out of her hand and shoved it as far into his sack as possible. She stood up and grabbed her new gadget. “Put your mask on. We're moving.”
“I thought you said we'd be here till the beacons are on?”
“Don't need to now. I've got a tracker.” She waggled the little machine for him to see, then sighed with relief. It felt great to have one in her possession again. Her last one had given up the ghost two seasons past, and she hadn't been able to afford a new one. Even though it wasn't even close to new, it looked to be in good shape and she knew she owed Burt big time.
Tenet glanced over. Trackers were useful items that Tenet had the rare opportunity to use on the few occasions when he volunteered with the migration efforts. Trackers contained information and displayed it. What kind of information depended on the type of tracker. The ones he used contained DNA analysis for everyone in the different sectors of the population. You got “tagged” when you got on the transport, and tagged again when you got off. The data was compiled, and it made it possible to ensure that everyone who was supposed to migrate did. But that didn't explain what she was doing with a tracker, or how it helped them.
“What good's a tracker in the dark expanse of nothing?”
“This is a Unit Two Off Season Special. UTOSS, in the biz.”
“Fancy.”
“Very.” She secured the lock on her mask and motioned for him to do the same. They made their way back upstairs, and once she made sure the seal on the outside door was intact, they began to walk. “Look," she said, holding the screen towards him. "A UTOSS assesses the terrain in front of us and shows direction, obstacles, and any forms of life.”
He looked at the small screen and could see...well, he could see nothing distinguishable actually. “You get all that from those blobs?”
“Yep. And a whole lot more. If we come close to an animal, we can tell what type by the heart rate. Well, mostly what type. What general species, anyway. Look. Over there's a coonskunk.”
He peered at the screen, then looked off in the direction she pointed. He couldn't tell anything from either one. “I'm lost. What blip am I looking at?”
She sighed. “It doesn't matter if you know what it says. I know. And right over there is a coonskunk. Which tells us what?”
It obviously tickled her to play teacher to such an accomplished person. It did not, in fact, sit well with Tenet. “I don't know.”
She clucked her tongue in annoyance. “It tells us, Brainiac, that their mating season has begun.” She frowned and looked back at the gadget. “Wait a minute. That's clearly a coonskunk.”
“Yeah...so?”
Her frowned deepened and she picked up the pace. “So, either we've just lost two weeks of time without noticing, or they're here too early.”
Tenet still didn't understand. “What's the big deal? So they're getting busy a little early. Can't fault them for rushing. They're harmless, overall. I mean, sure they're known to bite. But that's only when...”
“Will you stop babbling and think for a minute?” She took deep breath and counted to ten. “If the coonskunks are two weeks early, and we already know the wraiths are early. Of course, I haven't seen any signs of raptor yet and thankfully no gilla...still...”
“Now who's babbling? So the animals are early. So what?”
“You frustrate me,” she said simply. “Animals aren't like us. They have no calendar. Their time line is nature. If they're here early, they know something we don't.”
It mad
e sense. Still, it seemed like a silly thing for her to worry about. “So it's going to get hotter earlier.”
“Exactly.”
“I still don't get what the big deal is.”
Scarab shook her head in disgust. “That screws up everything. If the nasties are early, then the bots...”
It all hit him at once. “Will be early,” he said in a stunned voice.
“Exactly. And all the guns in the world can't fight them off.”
“What are we going to do? Walk faster?”
She shook her head. “Can't possibly walk that fast.” She bit her lip running through the list of options in her head. It was a frustratingly short list. “Okay,” she said slowly after much thought. “This is the plan. We can't do anything tonight but walk. I need us to end up at a beacon, but we can't be anywhere near it in the dark.”
“Why?”
“Unsafe. Coonskunks are attracted to light, and wraiths and bots are attracted to coonskunks.” She fiddled with the gadget in her hand, then pulled out her com. “I'm going to have to tap in.”
“Tap in? To what?”
“A beacon. I need to send for help.”
“You can do that?”
She cleared her throat. “Haven't had to before,” she admitted grudgingly. “I'll need to watch the UTOSS through the night.” She handed him her com. “Hit that button and repeat what I say into it, alright?”
“Why?”
“Do you always have to ask why?” she snapped, more at the situation than at him. “Sometimes stopping to ask why will get you killed,” she added in a kinder tone. “But this time, I'll answer. I need to record any life we cross in this sector. It's useful information the league will need.”
“Ah,” he said. “Got it.”
They spent the rest of their night carefully picking their way through the dark. They made a wide circle around a beacon, and Scarab assured him they'd cross another by morning. He looked at it carefully as they passed. No wonder he'd never noticed them before. Though tall, they were tucked in among the trunks of trees. He imagined where the seasonal growth would come in, and unless you really knew what to look for, the leaves would almost hide the beacon completely. He added it to the long list of things most people never knew, and kept score in Scarab's com.
At the end of the night, they came upon another beacon as Scarab predicted. Just like she said, he could see a wiggle of movement in the hazy glow. He could also see the sun coming up in the horizon.
“Should we try to get to another?”
“No. He'll scoot on out of there to sleep when it gets a little lighter.”
“How about wraiths?”
She shook her head. “I would have heard them if they were around.”
“Still, if they catch scent...”
“Look, Tenet. I know you're trying to be helpful, but let me do my job, okay? We can't risk wasting another day without sending a message. We just can't. As dangerous at it might be to hover around a coonskunk sprayed beacon, it's definitely dangerous to waste any time.”
Tenet nodded. “Alright. If you say it's safe.”
His faith in her was still rock solid. She couldn't believe it. Had he not been paying any attention at all? She failed. Miserably. So miserably, in fact, that she had to call for help. And yet, he had faith in her. She shook her head and sighed to herself.
They waited until the coonskunk shuffled off, then gave it a half hour more to be sure. No wraith calls, no signs of movement. Scarab stood up from her perch on the rock and started to walk slowly towards the beacon, Tenet hot on her heels and looking in every direction. When they reached the beacon, Tenet was surprised at how very simplistic it was. It was nothing more than a long, thin pole with a light at the top.
Scarab removed her unitool and waved it around until a panel on the spire popped open. Inside was a cluster of buttons, and a flashing display which read, “Input unknown.”
“There's a message here,” she said.
“How do you know?”
She looked at him like he was an idiot, but didn't answer. She asked him for her com back, and clipped it into the circuit board. In a moment, a voice came through. “Early reports show peak three weeks earlier than expected. Report.” Scarab swore softly under her breath.
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. And, looks like we're not alone out here.” It had been a long time since Scarab had sent a message through the beacons, and it took her quite some time to remember exactly what buttons to push. After a few tries, the message on the screen said, “Enter Input”. “There,” she said. “Finally. Man they make these things hard.” She pressed a button on her com and in a moment, the message on the screen showed “Input received. Enter input.”
“Okay. That's the info on our furry little friends. Time for our plea.” She pressed a different button on her com and spoke clearly into it. “Scarab 03321 requesting immediate assistance. Sector 4B-22, bounty acquired. Food and water levels acceptable, animal population dangerous. Will check beacon 4B-28 for reply. I repeat, immediate assistance requested.” She pressed the button and unsnapped her com. “That's that. Let's hope it works.”
“What exactly are we hoping for?”
“A ride.”