Grendel Unit

by Bernard Schaffer

  Corporal Slavish snorted slightly and shook his head. "You know what? I would probably tell you if I knew, just so I could take bets on how many days it would take you to die once they got their hands on you."

  "He is a vital target!" Vic growled. He leapt upwards, grabbing for the grates above, but they were too high. He fell swiping the air futilely, collapsing on the hard metal surface so hard it jolted throughout his body.

  Slavish looked down at him through the grating like a bored child. Like he was watching an insect struggle to get back up after having its wings ripped off. Vic got up and brushed himself off. When he looked back up, the guard had already unlocked the door he'd been guarding and gone through it, apparently bored of watching all the little insects and all their meaningless struggles.

  The corridors became smaller and emptier the further away you went from the essential areas of the prison. Prisoners clustered around the food dispersing stations and libraries and recreational yards. Strangely enough, they preferred to live among the other prisoners, preferring the constant threat of victimization to the even worse horror of being alone in the darkness.

  Gratersfield had been built to contain the population of entire planets if necessary, and it labyrinth was a never ending series of intersecting corridors and dead ends. But if one was bold enough, there was plenty of room to move around quietly and unnoticed. That was a blessing and a curse. It meant you had a smaller chance of running into other inmates, but also that if you did and they were hostile, you were on your own.

  The lights above the grated ceiling were a muted blue, casting shadowy grids down on the cells below. Vic noted the faces of the prisoners he passed, mentally cataloging the ones he recognized and could identify. Some were considered acceptable targets on Unification's Level Black List before they'd been captured.

  During his time in the prison, Vic had reduced their numbers by four. He had all the time in the world to add to that number.

  He made a series of turns and stopped at a short dead end. He walked toward the last cell in the line and saw a hulking figure within. The beast was pressed against the back wall, slumped forward, pretending to sleep. They'd had to remove the bunks and sink from the cell just to make room for him. His enormous feet almost stuck out into the hallway, the sharp claws attached to the toes were sharper than any of the four weapons Vic was carrying at that moment.

  "Hey," he said. "Wake up. We've got work to do."

  Monster's eyes gleamed in the darkness as he looked up at his former Captain and muttered, "Go away, human. I told you not to bother me anymore."

  Vic kicked him on the foot and said, "Come on, get up, you big ape. It's something good."

  Monster flung his foot at the side of the wall closest to Cojo so hard it rattled the cell door and the floor below, sending a loud echo of quaking steel rattling down the corridor. "I said go away!"

  "I know where Yultorot is headed. I just debriefed a guy connected to the group selling explosive to the Sapienists, and −"

  Monster snarled and shot to his feet so quickly that Vic instinctively backed up. The mantipor lowered his shaggy face to Vic's, his fangs gnashing together in a series of angry growls, saying, "We are not part of Unification anymore! Do you understand? We are nothing now. You led us into ruin. Stop deluding yourself that any of this nonsense you're doing matters!"

  "Listen to me, Monster," Vic said, "This is all just a setback. All right, granted, it looks bad, but if we just stick together and hold our ground, I can figure out a way to get all this information to the right person. They can use it to get Yultorot. We're close on this!" He looked over his shoulder at the long corridor of cells, seeing the distant figures of prisoners that were simply waiting to be asked the right questions, in the right way. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if coming here wasn't something we should have done years ago. It's like a feeding frenzy of high-value targets for our taking."

  Monster shook his head sadly and said, "You are either an idiot, or you've gone insane. Perhaps both. Either way, leave me out of it."

  "Look, would you stop sulking, already. Enough. What we need to do right now is talk this through. We plan it out, acquire what we need, and execute, same as any other operation."

  "There is no operation, you fool!" Monster shouted, loud enough to make the hair on Vic's arms stand up. The mantipor sulked back to his corner and slid down the wall into a great heap. "I don't work for you anymore. Go interrogate as many of your fellow inmates as you want, or at least, as many as you can until they string you up to the ceiling and skin you alive. All I want to do is sit here and wait for death."

  "What the hell happened to you?" Vic said.

  "What happened to me?" Monster said, his eyes opening wide. "I lost my wives. I lost my children. I lost my job. I lost my freedom. I lost everything I had, and it's all because of one person. And now, because the gods are nothing but diseased lunatics, I get to spend the rest of my days trapped in a prison with that same person, and he is deluded enough to think I give a damn what he wants."

  Vic took a deep breath, searching for the right words. He needed something inspirational. It had always been so easy before, back when he'd spoken with the authority of rank and had the security of his team around him. When he'd been aboard the Samsara, leading his men, watching them hang on his every word for direction, he'd been firmly in command. Now, what right did he have to try and order anyone to do anything? He was disgraced in the eyes of all of Unification. Monster was probably not alone in his desire to see Vic go back to his own cell and wait patiently for it all to end. What if that bastard guard really had been telling the truth? What if Frank really said he should just kill himself?

  Vic looked at the mantipor and said, "I'm sorry about your family. I never meant for any of this to happen."

  Monster laughed bitterly, "Do you want to know the most sickening part? I don't think you mind any of this. You have no woman or children. You have no tribe!"

  Vic said nothing.

  "You do not even have a life outside of your service to Unification, and you weren't even good at that."

  "Hey!" Vic said. "Now you're going too far. Grendel was the best in the galaxy when I had it. Nobody could touch us."

  "Yes, yes, it's true," Monster sneered, "You were a great operative. An inspired warrior, and under you we accomplished things no one else cold. But that was not your only job, Cojo. You were supposed to be a member of the organization. To keep us safe from our enemies both below, and above! Yet look at how many times you got demoted and cost the rest of us pay and time with our loved ones. Why? All because you couldn't follow the rules, or play their little game, and now look at where we are. General Milner wanted you to be a spoke in the wheel, but instead, you insisted on being a damned landmine! Well done, captain. Well done."

  Vic felt like one of Monster's massive feet had slammed him in the stomach and knocked all the air out of him. "Did you always feel that way? Did…Frank and Bob feel that way?"

  "Of course," Monster said.

  "So why didn't you all say something then? You could have tried. It was your job to protect me too! A lot of damn good it does us telling me now."

  Monster looked up at him in the darkness, seeing that the man he'd once considered great was becoming nothing more than a pale, shadowy version of his former self. Both of them were dressed in ugly orange prison jumpsuits. They were eating prison slop and breathing fetid prison air. Soon, they'd be as diseased and hollowed-out as the rest of them. There were already patches of fur missing from Monster's back and arms. At least there were no bugs. Every day, the sanitation jets on the ceiling sprayed them all with disinfectant and the Gods-Knew-What-Else. Hell, that was what was probably making Monster's fur fall off.

  The mantipor shook his head and said, "We never told you because you made us believe. In you. In the mission. In doing whatever it took to win. But if there is one thing I have learned, sitting here in this cell, day after day, night after night, weeping for my little
ones who I will never see again, it's that the people who believe are the ones who suffer. It is better, by far, to be a spoke in the wheel, because then you don't get run over."

  Vic stood in the darkness for a while after that, not speaking. Monster closed his eyes and settled down once more, trying to go back to sleep. Vic tapped him on the foot and said, "You could look on the bright side."

  Monster opened his eyes again and said, "Please, illuminate me as to what the bright side of living in this never ending nightmare could possibly be."

  Vic smiled lopsided at him and said, "You always complained about not being to go on away missions with me. Well, here we are. Ta-dah!"

  Monster laughed in spite of himself and said, "Now I'm sure of it. You're definitely insane."

  Vic waved his hand for Monster to come out of the cell and said, "I know what you need. Come on. It's been too long."

  "Too long since what?"

  "Since you had any exercise. I have just the thing. It will help clear your mind."

  Monster squinted at him and said, "I do not feel like going outside."

  "What, you're going to sit there until the rest of your fur falls off? The sun might do you some good, and besides, I don't think I could stand the sight of you bald all over. Come on. Trust me."

  "Trusting you was how I got into this mess."

  "So maybe it will also help you get out. Come on. You'll like it, I promise."

  Monster shook his head and lowered it into his shaggy paws, using them to block out anything else Vic said. As he did so, he looked down and saw a new patch of hairless flesh along the underside of his right arm, revealing the embarrassingly pink skin beneath his fine, chestnut brown fur. He turned his head and inspected underneath his other arm, seeing the beginning of two bald spots. Monster slumped his hands down in his lap and muttered, "Damn you, human."

  21. Rebel Without a Pause

  Sgt. Bob Buehl looked down at the computer console and his eyes widened. There were flashing red dots indicating multiple anti-spacecraft weapons systems on the surface of the planet below, and many of them were now trained on their ship. "I thought he said this place was not well guarded!" Bob said.

  Frank was too busy staring at his own schematics to pay attention to the edge of panic in the sergeant's voice. Maybe he'd just gotten too used to hearing it by then. "He said the guards don't get involved with the prisoners," Frank sighed. "Not that they don't defend it."

  "I'll say it's defended. They've got cannons mounted to every corner of the prison, sir. Those things can punch a hole through the hull of a star freighter, never mind this thing." Bob checked the rest of the readout and shook his head, saying, "Guided missiles, auto-targeting chain guns. We couldn't even Baumgartner jump if we wanted to. The turrets would cut us to pieces before we broke through the atmosphere."

  Frank nodded like he was listening and said, "I guess that rules out the element of surprise."

  "Are you listening to me?" Bob said. "We can't sneak in and even if we could, we'd never make it back out. What are we supposed to do, just land and say, 'Hi, we're here for the two o'clock prison break. Is this a good time?' Where the hell is Milner? I need to show him this."

  As Bob spoke, the captain's door opened behind him and a weary looking General Milner emerged, holding a tablet with both hands. He looked at Bob, but it was as if he were a thousand miles away and ignoring the sergeant's call for him to come over and see all the flashing red dots on the computer screen. "Lieutenant?" Milner's voice rasped.

  "Yes, sir?" Frank said, slowly getting out of his seat, reverting to formality at that unusual moment, sensing it might be something important.

  The General raised the tablet toward him, but still held it with both hands, gripping it so tightly his fingers were white. "I am giving this to you in the event that…in the event that I am not able to confer with Captain Cojo."

  Frank put his hands out to take the tablet and said, "All right. But I don't think that's going to be a problem."

  The General hadn't let go. Instead, Milner looked down at the tablet with a red-rimmed, weary gaze and said, "If, for any reason, Cojo is not able to accept this, you are to assume command and carry it out. Do you understand?"

  Milner looked up at Frank with such desperation that Frank could only nod and say, "Yes, sir. What is it?"

  "Absolute madness," Milner whispered. "A thing that no good General hopes to ever have to instruct his people to do. Remember. Give this to Captain Cojo and him alone. You are only to open it if he is unable to. Do you understand?"

  "I understand," Frank said.

  Milner let go of the tablet and took a deep breath, as if finally unburdening himself of a great weight. He wiped the sheen of sweat from his face and looked at Sgt. Buehl, saying, "I heard you say there are concerns about approaching Gratersfield."

  "I did, sir," Bob said. He pointed at the screen behind him and said, "I'm picking up the signatures of heavy weaponry that will not allow any spaceship to land on the planet without clearance. We cannot force our way in."

  Milner looked down at the screen and said, "Who said anything about forcing our way in?"

  Red lights blinked on the ship's console and Sgt. Buehl shifted nervously in the pilot's seat. "They've acquired us as a target, sir. We have three vitka cannons locked on our position, General. Whatever we're going to do, do it fast."

  "Open a comm, Sergeant," the General said.

  Bob touched an icon on his console and said, "Gratersfield Penitentiary, come in."

  There was static on the line, and then a voice said, "Identify yourselves immediately, or we will fire."

  General Milner came forward to lean over Bob's shoulder and said, "This is General Milner, Unification Command. I am here to conduct an Administrative audit of your facility in compliance with Order 5766. Standby for transmission of my security clearance and withdraw your weapons. I say again, standby for transmission of my security clearance and withdraw your weapons."

  The General pressed another icon on the screen to initiate the transmission of his credentials and after a brief silence, the red lights stopped blinking on the screen. Milner smiled briefly at them and said, "Well, I suppose getting promoted wasn't entirely a bad thing."

  "As long as you don't mind counting spoons and pencils for the rest of your life," Frank shrugged, giving the general a half-smirk. The look on the general's face made it clear he was not in the mood. "Sorry," Frank said.

  The radio crackled again, "We are sending landing coordinates to your mainframe. You are to land on the roof and await further instruction from Warden Drexel."

  "Roger that," Buehl said as he typed rapidly on the ship's screen. He flipped off the comm and looked back at the other two men and said, "Last chance to change your minds." Neither Frank nor the general spoke, and Bob engaged the ship's engines to begin descending. He pressed himself up using the arms of the pilot's seat, lifting himself completely out of the chair, and then lowering himself several inches, but not touching it. He did this several times in a row, getting faster with each rep, until the muscles of his biceps were rippled and tight. His lips were tightly pursed as he breathed and grunted, "Actually, even if you'd said no, both you bastards were coming with me anyway."

  Frank felt tired just watching the pilot exercise and he said, "Look on the bright side, Bob. There's a good chance you'll see some of those Sapienists you grew up with. Maybe you can all catch up on old times. And if we wind up staying, you can probably join their prison gang."

  "Go to hell," Bob said, pressing himself up and down even faster.

  The ship was rocking back and forth as it descended, giving off a loud hiss of white steam as the thrusters engaged and covering the observation windows in fog. The General wiped his hand across the window to clear away the condensation and look out at the green and blue landing lights on the prison roof, but he was distracted by Sgt. Buehl's incessant grunts. "Must you really do that right now?" General Milner said.

  "It's his th
ing, general," Frank said. "He does it when he gets nervous. Or bored. Or angry."

  "Or to keep from ripping your head off," Bob added.

  "That too."

  The ship jolted as it touched down on the hard surface of the roof and the smoke cleared from the windows, revealing dozens of uniformed guards standing on the sides, all of them armed with large rifles. At the center of the formation, a tall, skinny man who stood hunched forward, his large nose aimed at the ground like he was incessantly in the process of sniffing for something. Warden Drexel swept his long coat aside and shook it free of the swirls of dust kicked up by the ship's landing. This is a man made nervous by unexpected supervision, Milner thought. He must have a thousand different schemes running in this garbage dump, and the idea of having to account for his food supplies and medicine is going to make him want to vomit. There are probably three ships arriving with goods for the prisoners in the front door and two ships leaving out the back to go sell the majority of them on the black market. Milner straightened his uniform shirt, pulling it from the bottom to give it clean lines along his chest and waist and thought, I'll be using that to my advantage.

  The boarding ramp lowered slowly to the ground and the three of them descended, squinting in the bright light of the sun that hovered low over the prison. It was scalding hot and the humidity wrapped around them like wet blankets as they covered their faces to shield them, and get a better look at the troops assembled in front of them.

  Warden Drexel swiped a length of long, black hair from his face and tucked it over his ear. He clucked his tongue in preparation to speak, making a loud popping noise that they could hear over the softening whine of their ship's engines. The Warden pointed at the Rangefinder rifles slung across Frank and Bob's chests and said, "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but there are no weapons allowed on Gratersfield. You will have to secure them."