He looked around his cell and sighed bitterly, dwelling on the irony of that notion.
He was not tired, but knew he must sleep, so he planted his feet on the edges of the toilet and lowered his head into his hands, sleeping sitting up and hunched over. He slept in polyphasic cycles, forcing himself to nap for half an hour every six hours. It left him plenty of time for his work.
Vic closed his eyes and his senses folded in on themselves, one by one, like a crumbling house of cards. First, he could no longer smell the fumes from the toilet or the musty stench of the corridor and cells where a thousand horrors had occurred and never been cleaned. Then he could no longer hear the pipes hissing and water trickling or rodents scurrying from behind the walls and above the ceiling, or the distant screams of yet another prisoner who'd fallen victim to one of his peers for some meaningless slight.
The final card to fall was his ability to feel anything. He was lost inside a dreamland then, floating through the sky, looking down on the prison, as if he'd just done a Baumgartner Jump but instead of landing, he was sailing along the current, letting it carry him wherever it wanted.
It was peaceful in the sky, far above everything, and Vic wanted to go higher. To see if he could break through the atmosphere and reach space. He wanted to look for a ship up there. His ship. His crew. He wanted to tell them to let him on board and get him the hell out of there, as far and as fast as possible.
A voice spoke to him from the sky, as loud and clear as a deity, and it said, "Hello, Victor Cojo. I heard you've been looking for me."
Vic's eyes flew open and he saw a man sitting across from him in his cell, sitting on the bed with his back straight and his hands folded serenely in his lap. His long neck was craned toward Vic, as if he were posing for a portrait and had been instructed not to move. The man's hairless face, with nothing but a thick fold of skin over his narrow eyes, and a field of gold-studded earrings decorating his cheeks and chin, was unmistakable. The Sapienist Commander called Bal Ghor raised his eyebrow curiously and said, "Tell me, Victor Cojo, why have you sought death?"
Vic leapt from the toilet with tiger-like quickness, diving for the bed to reach the man, but before he moved, Bal Ghor spoke one word and a dozen prisoners flooded through the entrance and dove on top of him. Vic managed to grab the front of the man's shirt, twisting it in his fingers as he slammed down on the edge of the bed with his chest, clutching it as long as he could until too many fists and knees rained down on him.
"Stop hitting him," Bal Ghor said. "I want answers. Lift him up." They grabbed him under the shoulders and hoisted him up to look Bal Ghor in the face. Vic tried to look away, but someone grabbed him by the back of his head and forced him to look.
The Sapienist folded his hands behind his back studiously as he admired Vic, looking him up and down. "You know, I find you extremely interesting. I always have. You have quite a reputation, as I'm sure you can imagine, Captain Cojo. There are even some who would offer you a kind of begrudging admiration for your tactics if, as I'm sure you can understand, not your philosophies. So when I heard you were being brought here, I told myself that this was a rare opportunity. That I would finally be able to rid the galaxy of one of its most vile scourges. But then, I came to realize something."
Bal Ghor moved closer to Vic, close enough that the two could smell each other's breath, and he whispered, "I realized that you are one of us."
Vic spat with laughter and said, "I'm far from that."
Bal Ghor wagged his finger in Vic's face and said, "We are the outcasts, Captain. The great unwashed. We are hated for our different ideas and refusal to conform."
"You are hated for attacking innocent women and children, you son of a bitch!" Vic shouted. "Do not ever think I am one of you. Do not sit here and clothe yourself in fancy terms to justify murder. I am glad for every single one of you I killed. I am glad for every single one of you I put in this godforsaken place, and my only regret is that I did not find you sooner. I serve Unification. I am a Unification citizen and soldier, and I will die one, whether it's today in this cell or a hundred years from now."
Bal Ghor chuckled and leaned in toward Vic, "Tell me something, Captain. How is it that you do not see the terrible comedy in all of this yet? You do not serve Unification."
"The hell I don't."
"You serve the Sapienists."
Vic raised his head and shouted, "Never!"
Bal Ghor grabbed him by the face and clutched his chin, hissing, "Unification is the Sapienists, you damn fool. They are one. At the highest levels they are two snakes twisted around the same pole, using one another to their mutual advantage for so long that they are now permanently entwined. The agendas are the same."
Vic laughed at the insanity of the idea, saying, "Your people would wipe out every other species in the name of a Human God, and then you turn around and kill any humans who don't agree with you. Tell me how that is anything like Unification."
Bal Ghor shook his head piteously and said, "Poor, delusional, Captain. While the so-called Sapienists are instilling terror and fear, your government is subjugating all those races in the name of protecting them. They are casting a net so wide across the galaxy that it will enslave us all before we even realize it exists. Tell me something, for all the thousands of species you've brought into your little social experiment, how many sit on the government's High Council?"
"Every species has its own representative government," Vic shot back.
"Of course they do. But at the very top, looking down, it's all homo sapiens, isn't it? For all the Unification Federal Courts imposed throughout their territories, how many non-humans are there? How many governors? How many Generals? I'll tell you, Captain. The answer is none. Unification allows all of its pets to live in its houses and receive scraps from its tables, but who do you think they send to discipline their animals when they bite their masters? The answer is clear, is it not?"
Vic looked down at the cell floor and said, "No. It's not true."
"They send us," Bal Ghor said, suddenly smiling. "You are beginning to understand now, aren't you? Yultorot, the man you've been chasing all this time, he's just a pawn in a much larger game. So are you. And so am I."
"Just kill me and get it over with," Vic muttered. "I don't want to hear any more of your filth. You're boring me and you're wasting good time you could spend getting this over with. Let's go."
"Not quite," Bal Ghor said. He waved his hands at the prisoners holding Vic and they let him go, dropping him to the floor. Bal Ghor looked down at him and said, "I want you to live knowing how much of your life has been wasted. I want you to live with the knowledge of how futile all of this has been." The Sapienist lowered himself to Vic's level and his voice softened, "I know what you are feeling right now, Captain. I truly do. I felt the same things myself after I was sent here, after I realized that the people I'd served so faithfully had turned me over without so much as a passing thought. You are not the only one who has been used, and you are not the only one who has been cast away. As I said before, you are one of us."
Bal Ghor stood up and left the cell, followed by the others. Vic listened to them go, their footsteps echoing on the floor and walls of the never-ending corridors, deep inside the guts of an endless prison. He backed up to the far wall of his cell and collapsed, unable to breathe. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his face, sinking down as deep as he could into his arms and legs, burrowing into himself so that no one could hear him weeping.
Bob Buehl was running then, following the dim beeping circle on his screen, saying, "Come on. This way."
Frank cut right, then made a sharp left, doing his best to stay behind Bob, cursing the bastard for all his stupid exercising. Bob darted down a dark tunnel, racing forward into what looked like nothing more than a black wall, but as Frank ran in, he saw they were simply inside another corridor, carved into the wall haphazardly and unmarked. It was ingenious, in a way, Frank thought. If the prison were organized and segmented, va
st gangs would form and soon be able to threaten the guards. By housing everyone in the dark and in such a confusing fashion none of them would easily be able to find one another, it kept them disoriented and disorganized. One false turn down the wrong corridor and you might suddenly find yourself in hostile territory with no possibility of escape.
"He's in there," Bob said, stopping suddenly. He pointed at the farthest cell at the end of the corridor, a faint light casting shadows on the open entrance. Bob's voice cracked a little as he stumbled forward and whispered, "Monster? You in there, buddy?"
"Go away," the mantipor muttered. "I am not in the mood for humans."
"We can if you want to," Bob said, just as he swung himself around the entrance to show himself. "But that wouldn't make for a very good prison break, now would it?"
The creature's roar was deafening, so loud it made Frank's teeth rattle, but all he saw was a pair of massive, patchy-furred arms snatch Bob out of the doorway and squeeze him so hard, Bob grunted, "Wait…not so tight…I'm serious…"
Frank heard Bob gasp with relief and then saw Monster lower his head under the entrance to emerge into the corridor, filling it with his form. He glared down at Frank, saying, "Come here."
Frank held up his hands, saying, "It's okay, really. I just−"
Monster scooped him up and crushed him to his chest, making Frank's ribs creak and his spine crackle and adjust. Frank heaved in air as Monster let him slip back down to the ground, then felt the beast's hand on his shoulder, shaking him, "How in the hell did you get here? Have we been pardoned?"
"Not exactly," Bob said. "We'll explain later."
Within minutes, they were running down the hall, chasing Monster as he crashed through narrow entries and rattled the grates of the steel mesh ceiling above. It was if the mantipor had been set free of chains and was now running for his life, snarling back at Bob and Frank when they fell too far behind that if they could not keep up, he would carry them. "The Captain is ahead," Monster shouted over his shoulder.
"There!" Monster said, aiming his clawed finger at the open door. The three of them looked at one another, none of them moving, until Monster said, "It should be one of you."
Frank clapped Bob on the shoulder and said, "You go ahead, Bob. You've known him longer than me."
Bob shook his head softly and said, "Stop being an idiot. Go get our Captain so we can get the hell out of here."
Frank felt his hands shaking with nervous anticipation as he walked toward the cell, his legs suddenly made of cement. He peeked in and saw a man that he barely recognized sitting on the bunk of the cell. Physically, Victor Cojo still looked much the same, but it was as if the fight had gone out of him. He was sitting slumped, staring at nothing, not even looking up when Frank called his name and walked in.
"Monster?" Frank called back into the corridor. "What's wrong with him?"
"I do not know. He was not like that the last time I saw him. Is he sick?"
Frank opened his medical kit and removed a diagnostic wand. He waved the wand over Vic's forehead and temples, shaking him on the arm to try and get him to respond. "It's nothing I can see. His temperature's normal. Blood pressure is elevated, but that's to be expected." Frank snapped his fingers in Vic's face and said, "Hey, Dummy. The Cavalry is here. Stop kidding around. We gotta go!"
No response.
Frank shoved him on the shoulder and said, "Knock it off, damn you. We have to get out of here. We broke into this dump to rescue you and you don't even have the courtesy to say hello?"
Vic suddenly turned his head toward Frank and said, "You're not real. You're just another trick, but I won't fall for it."
"This is unbelievable," Frank said.
Bob checked his scanner again and said, "The immobilization virus we used on the guards suits is starting to wear off, Frank. If we don't extricate in the next five minutes, they'll be able to make radio contact with their command. Plus, my scanner is almost dead."
"And then what?" Monster said.
"Then we're all going to be spending a lot more time together," Bob said dryly.
Frank pictured the hatch closing on top of him once more, burying him deep in the prison, making him just another occupant of one of its dark corridors. Frank shook his head violently to clear the panic away and said, "Not today. Monster, grab the Captain. Let's move!"
"Roger that!" the mantipor said, charging forward and scooping Vic up with one arm. He cradled Vic to his chest like a child, and Vic pounded and kicked and screamed out, "None of this is real! None of you are real! I don't believe you!"
Frank handed Bob his scanner and said, "Sgt. Buehl, take point and get us back to the hatch. Double-time."
Bob punched in their coordinates and said, "Your hatch is just two clicks south of here. Run you bastards."
They bolted together through the darkness, following the scanner's glowing screen with a blinking red dot to show them how far away they were from escape. When prisoners moved into their way, Bob shouted, "Move! Move!" and they automatically retreated into their cells, not knowing what was happening and not wanting to find out. Those too stupid to move suffered Monster's loudest roar, or the side of his fist smashing them into a wall. Frank ran as he never had before, but Monster was too fast behind him and the mantipor reached down at several points and grabbed Frank by the belt, lifting him off his feet to carry him as well.
All of them were sucking wind when they reached the hatch. Bob aimed his scanner at it and typed in a command to open it. The hatch did not respond.
"What's wrong?" Frank said. "Is it blocked already?"
"No," Bob said, smacking the scanner with the side of his hand. "This one is dying too. These weren't meant for this much sustained use."
Vic was still yelling that none of them were real, and Monster pressed his face against his furry chest to muffle the sound and said, "You two had better not have come this far just to blow the operation over dead scanner batteries."
Bob looked at Frank stiffly and said, "We don't have the power to open the hatch. We're stuck."
Frank looked up at the closed hatch, drenched with fear, but he found himself uttering a command anyway, saying, "Use whatever is left to send a message to the General. Tell him he either finds a way to open the hatch, or we're done."
Bob punched in the message and sent it, holding the scanner up to the ceiling as if it would make a difference. As he held it, the light of the screen began to fade, leaving them all in complete darkness.
"We'll find another way," Frank said.
"Thousands of inmates have tried to escape since this place was built," Monster growled. "None have survived."
"Well they're not us," Bob said.
"You sound brave now, because you have not lived here and slept here and been forced to eat the rot here," Monster said. "You have been free, and you cannot fathom being anything other than free, but in time, you will see." He looked up at the dark hatch once more and then said, "I will show you where I sleep. After tonight, you will have to find your own cells, though."
"I can't believe it," Bob whispered. "We came this far."
"Just hang on a second," Frank said.
"Even if the hatch opens, the guards will be mobile soon. We'll be fighting a squad of Sentinel armored guards. It's over," Bob said simply. "It's…just..." his voice grew quiet as the ceiling creaked above them and the magnetic locks bracing the hatch began to vibrate and snap open.
"Unbelievable," Monster sighed. "Thank the gods and goddesses."
"Go, go!" Bob shouted, grabbing the ladder with both hands and scurrying up it like a monkey.
Frank was right behind him, laughing as he climbed, saying, "You should have seen the look on your face. You were scared as hell."
"You're damn right I was scared," Bob said as he dove out of the hatch onto the floor, taking a deep breath of clean air. He reached into the hatch to grab Frank by the arm and heave him up. "I was terrified I'd have to spend the rest of my life staring at you."
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Frank rolled his eyes and said, "You'd love it in prison. A bunch of guys who always work out, no tempting foods to mess up your diet."
Monster passed Vic through the hatch to them and both Bob and Frank grabbed on, pulling the Captain up onto the second floor. Frank tapped Vic rapidly on the cheek and said, "See? We're out of there. Smell that clean air? It's time to snap out of it, Vic. Come on, man. We are not out of this and we need you! Grendel Unit needs you!"
Vic blinked several times as he looked up at the lights on the ceiling and the color began to return to his face. He stared at Frank, but still did not speak, but when Monster had finally forced his bulk out of the hatch, Vic was able to walk on his own and followed the rest of them as Bob shouted, "If I remember the map, there's an elevator down that hall."
They raced past the food processing room where Frank had immobilized the guards and saw that some of them were starting to move. They were flexing their fingers and inching their armored torsos sideways to try and look at them. The one with the open face mask, Corporal Slavish, cried out at the sight of Vic and Monster and screamed, "Help! Help! Prisoners are escaping! Ring the alarm."
"We still have time," Bob said triumphantly. He clapped his hands and started to run down the hall, when he realized Vic had broken away from the rest of them and was staring at the guards through the glass. "What the hell is he doing? Monster, grab him again."
Before the mantipor could reach him, Vic suddenly snatched Frank by the collar and yanked him forward, forcing him into the office. Frank tried to pry Vic's fingers away, shouting, "Get off of me! We have to get the hell out of here! What are you doing?"
Vic fought with him and dragged him across the floor, moving past the rest of the guards who were desperately trying to work the controls on their suits to grab either of them, until Vic stopped in front of Corporal Slavish.
Grendel Unit Page 26