Grendel Unit

by Bernard Schaffer

  He watched the multi-tentacled Squiddites mopping the courthouse floors instead of swimming in their native ocean planets. There were several massive mantipors standing guard in front of the courtrooms instead of roaming the caverns and ancient ruins of the once-great temples and coliseums of their home world. Now, they've become our low-paying janitors and security officers, and all of them have human supervisors to answer to. Somehow, that's called progress, he thought.

  For all Unification's speech-making about alien integration, the only people working on any floor above the main lobby were human. All of the faces in the photographs outside his father's office, or any other judge's office, to be certain, were human also.

  Frank watched another alien push a maintenance cart into the nearest bathroom to clean it and thought, Is this what the Sapienists are so upset about? Humans weren't even applying for that kind of work anymore. They considered it beneath them.

  Actually, I wonder how much those jobs pay. I'll have to find some way or another to afford medical school.

  He got into line to be funneled through the main exit, waiting behind a dozen others to be buzzed out the doors. He watched the people stepping into the body scanners and raising their arms, or wings, or tentacles, or whatever they had, waiting for the light on the scanner to turn from red to green. When he got tired of that, he saw a kiosk nearby with Unification Works! printed across the front and sides. He ran his finger along the pamphlet titles until one caught his eye that said, "Military Service - Securing Your Future, and Ours."

  The line continued to move as Frank scanned through the folded scroll, touching each image to make it come to life. There were short clips of sharp-looking uniformed men and women jumping over barricades and running to the rescue of some emergency with lots of smoke in the background. There were training montages of young men doing pull-ups, and women performing hand-to-hand combat moves. A starship pilot pulled up his display visor and gave Frank a wide smile and a thumbs up. The last image reflected Frank's face as he looked down at the scroll and he saw a soft red light blinking in his eyes and knew it was scanning him. The scroll was scanning his name and identity and personal history in order to find the most attractive, alluring image it could.

  Suddenly, a picture of Frank appeared on the scroll. He was walking into a court room wearing a suit, carrying a briefcase. The image dissolved to read, "THIS CAN BE YOU FRANK KELLY. UNIFICATION MILITARY SERVICES WILL PAY FOR LAW SCHOOL."

  Frank folded the scroll pamphlet and put it back in place in the information kiosk. "Wrong guess," Frank said.

  Just as he crossed through the threshold to leave, he saw a beggar walking toward the front door who looked at him and nodded encouragingly. "Keep going, friend," the man mumbled as Frank walked past.

  "I will, thanks," Frank said instinctively, thinking that somehow this poor man, this complete stranger dressed in clothes so baggy they were falling off of him, had seen the look on Frank's face and recognized the need for a brief affirmation. A little pat on the shoulders telling him not to give up.

  Frank picked up his pace as he walked into the warm summer sun. It felt good to be outside, breathing clean air instead of the tightly-controlled and sanitized oxygen of the courthouse. What did his father know anyway? Frank was half tempted to go back and grab some of the pamphlets from Unification Works! and slide them under the judge's chambers door.

  He looked back at the courthouse from the sidewalk, trying to get one last glimpse of the man who'd told him "Keep going," and saw that he was just about to walk into the scanning booth. In that moment, he saw that what he'd mistaken for a beggar's baggy clothing were actually oversized and loose enough to conceal hidden equipment. The man lifted his arms to enter the scanner and Frank looked in horror at the belt of thick plastic squares tied around his waist.

  Sirens erupted from the scanner just as the man cried out, "Humans forever!"

  There was a bright flash of light and everything turned white like Frank was looking straight into the sun. He heard a low, dull whumping sound that sounded like distant cannon fire and the next thing he knew, he was pushed backwards like someone shoved him in the chest. The force of the explosion sent him tumbling end over end, sending him onto his back and head, skittering across the sidewalk like a stone skipping across flat water.

  A Unification soldier came to visit Frank in the hospital later that week.

  The soldier was only a few years older than Frank, but his face was already weathered and lined with deep, furrowed marks along both sides of his face. The ballistic vest covering his uniform shirt read Unification Investigator in bright letters across his chest. Frank saw the outline of sizing stickers that still remained on the man's uniform and said, "Brand new outfit?"

  The soldier smiled and said, "I've never been big on wearing it. I try and spend as much time in plain clothes as possible, fitting in with the locals and gathering intel. But Command wanted us all down here in uniform just to show the flag, I guess."

  "Show the flag?" Frank said.

  The soldier tapped the word Unification on his chest and said, "You know, giving the panicked locals the reassurance that your government is here and everything is going to be okay."

  Frank laughed bitterly and said, "Is everything going to be okay?"

  "No, absolutely not," the soldier said. "Not for a really long time. But in the meantime, it's my job to find the people who did this and bring them to justice. Would you mind if I asked you some questions about what happened?"

  Frank shrugged and said, "Sure. Go for it."

  "The man you saw, the bomber. He said something to you in the courtyard as you walked out. I saw it on camera. What was it?"

  Frank closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to focus. "He said, 'Keep going,' and he called me friend," Frank said.

  "Keep going? As in, get the hell out of here?"

  "I don't know," Frank said. "Probably, but at the time, I was thinking he meant something else."

  "Like what?"

  "It sounds stupid."

  "I've heard stupider, I promise," the soldier said.

  Frank sighed, "I thought he meant, like, hang in there, or something. I'd just had a fight with my dad and probably looked like it."

  "I see," the soldier said. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, obviously taking his time with the next thing he needed to say. "Has anyone spoken to you about that? About your dad I mean?"

  "That he's dead?" Frank said. "Yeah, the doctor told me. I guess that lets you off the hook from doing the death notification, huh?"

  "It's not something I enjoy," the soldier said.

  "I bet it isn't."

  "Do you remember anything?"

  "After that lunatic told me to keep going? Just that when I looked back I saw him lift his hands and there were all these plastic packages attached to his waist, like some sort of belt. Then I saw a bright flash and heard a low thump. There wasn't any big sound of an explosion."

  "It's because of the materials in the bomb," the soldier said. "Certain metals burn faster than the speed of sound, so they don't register to the human ear. You just hear the initial burst. They do it on purpose, so people nearby aren't alerted. It helps them raise their kill count." He frowned slightly and said, "Sorry, I guess you don't care about the details. I probably wouldn't."

  Frank sat up a little and said, "Actually, you're wrong. Obviously the bomber's dead, but somebody had to send him in there. It was the Sapienists, right?"

  The soldier looked over his shoulder at the door to make sure there was no one listening. "We're thinking the Sapienists are almost finished. They're breaking up into smaller cells that operate independently. They've adopted some sort of religious fanaticism about the whole thing that's driving people crazy. I'm working on a lead."

  "You are?" Frank said. "Really?"

  "Yeah. Not much of one, but it's something." The soldier pulled a tablet computer out of the side pocket of his vest and placed his palm on the screen to authorize
access. "We got this video right after the explosion." He went to hand Frank the tablet, then stopped and said, "Are you sure you want to see it? I should probably leave you alone and let you get some rest instead of bothering you with all this."

  Instead of responding, Frank reached up and took the tablet out of his hands and laid it down on his lap. He watched as the screen filled with the digitized face of a man who muttered, "The human God has given us power over you, wicked servants of the Beast." The camera backed away to reveal fifty other men standing behind him, and all of them were dressed in dark robes with scarlet symbols of skulls printed across them. "The Beast shall be known by its hoof and fang, by its non-corporeal form, and slithering tentacles. Death to all sludgesuckers and those that would enthrone them. Today, you saw the flames of God's decision to punish you. We are his punishment. We are the cleansing fire."

  The video cut off and Frank lifted the tablet to hand it back, saying, "Cleansing fire. He sounds like another wackadoo I heard on the news before."

  "They all sound like that now," the soldier said. "I miss the days when it was just the regular old crazy people who thought aliens were getting all their jobs and food supplies. These terrorists are something else, though, and we've got to stop them before it gets worse."

  He looked at the soldier's vest and said, "Is this what you do all the time? Hunt down terrorists?"

  "No," he sighed. "Not yet anyway. For now, I put the cases together so other people can go hunt them down. Based on my findings, command can issue a capture/kill order on dangerous criminals."

  "So who kills the bad guys?" Frank said. "Who are the ones who actually get to pull the trigger?"

  "There are a few, but the group I want to get in is called Grendel Unit," the soldier said. "They're the baddest of the bad. They're the ones hunting the bastards that plan these kind of attacks."

  "And how do you get into that?"

  "I'm hoping it's by working as a Unification Investigator putting cases together until command finally approves the transfer. That's my plan, anyway. From what I hear, there's also a certain amount of kissing up to General Milner, the guy in charge of the unit."

  "It sounds worth it if you get to kill those scum. I hope you get in."

  "Roger that," the soldier said. He picked up the medical chart tablet sitting next to Frank's bed and said, "What about you? I saw you just graduated school with a Criminal Law degree. You going to be a lawyer or something?"

  "Doctor," Frank said. "I want to be a doctor. I changed my mind. That's what my dad and I were fighting about."

  The soldier looked at him over his chart and said, "A doctor? What made you change your mind?"

  "I want to help people."

  "You know, Unification is looking for officer candidates. They'll put you through better medical training than you can imagine, and you won't be some local doctor either. You can be a tactical medic. That's like a doctor who gets to do covert operations. Hell, I bet you'd get assigned to a special unit right out of the academy. In a few years, you might even make it to Grendel with me."

  Frank looked up at the ceiling and said, "I'll have to think about it. I've got a lot on my mind right now."

  "Sure, I get that," the solider said. "Anyway, that's all I need. Thanks for your time, and not that it helps any, but I'm sorry for your loss."

  Frank nodded and said, "What's your name, again? Just in case, you know, I need somebody to call if I want more information about this tactical medic thing."

  The soldier came around the side of the bed and stuck out his hand, "Vic Cojo. I hope you decide to do it, too, because when I make it to Grendel Unit, I'm going to need somebody to watch my back while we're out there killing every terrorist in the quadrant."

  9. New Jack Hustler

  Two years later, Frank Kelly was sitting in a classroom at the Unification Military Academy, looking at a naked man. The man had been standing there when the class walked in and neither acknowledged them or responded to questions. He seemed to have no awareness that he was naked, or that he was there, or of anything else. It was all he could do to just stand there at perfect attention, arms at his sides, staring straight forward.

  After a minute of looking, Frank realized the man had not blinked or breathed.

  Before he could alert the rest of his class, the instructor came hurrying in, carrying a black gear bag. He apologized for being late as he came around the front of the room and dropped the gear bag in front of the naked man, and said, "This is the HUGO 7, a fully anatomically correct bio-robotic training dummy."

  Frank's eyes widened as he leaned forward to get a better look.

  "The HUGO is almost perfect in terms of human design, down to its very hair fibers. The only difference is that if you examine the HUGO's blood under a microscope, you will not see any cellular activity," the instructor said. "It's my understanding they are working on that for next year's model. However, there is one slight difference between the HUGO and you and I."

  The instructor reached into the gear bag and pulled out a thick, silver dagger, showing it to the class like a magician demonstrating that there was nothing up his sleeves. This was no trick, though. The instructor flipped the knife in the air and caught it upside down by the handle and with one, practiced spin, he turned and plunged the blade directly into the HUGO's heart.

  The HUGO's face contorted in pain and it said, "Ow!" just before it clutched the knife handle with both hands and collapsed on the floor.

  The instructor looked down at where the HUGO had fallen and said, "Restart training scenario."

  The HUGO rose up off the ground and reached up to pull the knife out of its chest. It dropped the weapon on the table and resumed its pose, while the divided flesh of its stab wound molded back together and sealed shut.

  "You can do anything to this device short of blow it up and it will reconfigure," the instructor said.

  To demonstrate, he picked up the knife and sliced the HUGO across the stomach, opening a wide rend in the flesh to expose the squirming organs inside. The HUGO said, "Ow!" and reached down to clutch its wound, then collapsed to the floor.

  "All right, it's not perfect as far as the 'Ow' thing goes, but it's as close as you'll get without being in the real situation," he said. He looked down at the HUGO and told it to restart the scenario again. The HUGO stood up and began scooping up any of its spilled insides and packed them back into its open stomach, holding the flaps shut until the skin sealed back into place.

  "Are there any questions?" the instructor said.

  Frank raised his hand, "That seems pretty realistic, sir."

  "Like I said, the only difference between the HUGO and a real person is at the cellular level. That, and it doesn't need to eat, or create bodily fluids, or anything like that. Otherwise, it is a perfect simulation."

  "Is that the only version they make currently?" Frank said.

  "I believe so. Why?"

  "I was hoping they made a female, sir. Some of the guys in here look pretty desperate to me." Frank looked around the class at his classmates as they rolled their eyes and he said, "In fact, some of them are looking at this HUGO in a strange way. I don't think you should let them near it."

  The instructor held up a scoped assault rifle, a large knife, and one electrostatic grenade to show the small group of students left in Frank's class. This was their final test, and a grueling pace, injuries, grades, and just plain giving up, had whittled their numbers away like sniper's bullets. They were warned it would happen. Unification Tactical Medics were a rare breed for a reason. You needed the skill of a field surgeon and infantryman combined. Most just gave up and went back to their former assignments.

  The instructor pointed at the three items and said, "This is what you have for this assignment. This is all you have for this assignment, so don't waste anything."

  He then picked up a black bag with a shoulder strap and tapped the dark red cross stitched across the middle with the tip of his finger, "Most importantly, this i
s your badge of office. It is the universal sign of relief to all field operatives. When the good guys see this, it fills them with hope and relief. When the bad guys see it, you become an immediate target. This bag does not get captured by the enemy, do you understand? It does not leave your side. Many men and women have given their lives for it and you will treat it with the due respect."

  The class barked, "Hooah," in response.

  The cadets were standing in the hallway in front of a large door that lead to the simulation arena. It was the size of a small stadium, with glass windows built around the top of the room where various assessors could watch and evaluate the trainee's performance. This was the last thing they would have to do before graduation. Anyone who failed was removed from the program. Anyone who passed was getting an assignment to the next available unit.

  The instructor looked at them with pride and said, "I know you'll all do great. Now, which one of you maniacs wants to go first?"

  Frank thrust his hand in the air.

  The instructor handed him the rifle and grenade and then, finally, the medic bag. Frank slid his helmet and face shield on and adjusted the chin strap. His tactical vest was tight around his collar and waist, but it needed to be, depending on what the enemies were going to be throwing at him. He didn't need any liquid phosphorous pouring down the inside of his vest and chewing him apart from within. His instructor slapped him on the helmet and said, "Are you ready for your orders, Kelly?"

  "Ready, sir!" Frank shouted.

  "Your commanding officer has stopped responding to his radio and you suspect he is injured. Your ship's systems report enemy activity in the area and they are closing on his position. Go get your man!"