Grendel Unit

by Bernard Schaffer

  "We're sitting ducks in that thing," Buehl said. "We need to upgrade, fast." He looked at the stash of karjarra and said, "I'm guessing we're not going to sell the dope, right?"

  "We're burning it," Vic said.

  Frank looked up, "Burning it? Now hang on. We need to be smart about this. You said I can raise a counter-point and that's what I'm doing. I want to at least discuss it."

  "All right," Vic said. "Discuss away."

  "We could buy a new ship," Frank said. "Any kind you want. One that might even help us survive this craziness, or ˗"

  "I don't want a new ship. I want my ship," Vic said.

  "What?" Frank said, stifling a laugh. "The Samsara?"

  "She's part of this unit. We need her back."

  "Well, that's not going to happen, Vic. They decommissioned her right after you got arrested. Hell, she's probably stripped for scrap metal already."

  "Scrap metal?" Bob Buehl said angrily. "The Samsara was a work of art. She was stacked with more firepower than a Star Cruiser and fast enough to run circles around whole squadrons of pursuit ships. I spent years tricking that ship out for anything we needed, and you think they turned her into scrap metal?"

  "A worthy ship," Monster nodded.

  Vic looked at Frank and shook his head, "You should have done something."

  Frank stared back at him, blinking rapidly as if his circuits were frying trying to process what he was hearing from them all. "Done something? You mean when I was trying to figure out a way to break the two of you out of a maximum security facility? Oh, I'm sorry. Next time I have to decide between you and a ship, I'll make sure I worry about the ship first!"

  "Good," Vic nodded in agreement. "I'm glad that's settled. See that? Our first discussion was a productive one. Now let's burn the drugs."

  Frank hung his head and groaned, defeated. "Listen, we can't burn it. Heating karjarra is one of the most potent ways to release the fumes. If we try burning that much of it, we'll turn this entire region into addicts instantly. Including ourselves."

  "Fine," Vic said, assenting. "We'll take it with us and figure out some other way to get rid of it. Gentlemen, let's grab as much as we can carry and get moving." He fitted the key into the lock on the weapons cage and looked back at them, "We're on a winning streak. I can feel it."

  Frank watched Vic turn the key and winced, covering his eyes as Vic began to pull the door open. Vic looked back at him and said, "What's your problem?"

  Frank looked around the facility nervously. "Just waiting for what usually happens to us, to happen to us."

  Vic reached into the cage and inspected the weapons and cases inside. "You know what your problem is, Frank? You forgot what it's like to win. This is a win, so let's enjoy the moment. A perfect plan. A flawless execution. Everything went right today, so let's celebrate it."

  Vic reached for the nearest rifle and pulled it out of its slot, immediately triggering a loud, wailing siren on the roof. Three more sirens activated in the immediate area, a warning system that the facility was under attack and the weapons cache had been opened.

  Frank closed his eyes and nodded, saying, "Ah, there it is."

  "Shut up, Frank," Vic snapped. He grabbed a handful of rifles and said, "Monster, load up. Bob, get the ship ready to go, now!"

  Frank nodded as he listened to the sirens echoing throughout the valley, "Now, this is what I'm much more used to. Winning? That's easy. Why would we want to do that?"

  Vic dumped a handful of explosives in Frank's arms and said, "Shut up, Frank!"

  Monster had dozens of guns and crates of ammo tucked under both his massive arms, and he lowered his head for Vic to drape several more weapons over it by their slings.

  Lights appeared in the sky above the doorway, casting a pale hue on the desert sand outside. The wind from the turbines scattered sagebrush and dry grass in every direction as Bob Buehl positioned the ship's docking ramp directly in front of the doorway.

  "Go, go," Vic said, pointing at the facility's open door.

  "The karjarra!"

  "I've got it," Vic snapped. "Get to the ship! We have to go."

  "I know we have to go! Get the drugs!"

  "Get to the ship!"

  "I'm getting to the ship!" Frank huffed from the doorway, "Get the drugs!"

  Vic quickly unlocked the narcotics cage and started stuffing heavy packets of karjarra into his shirt and pants, when the sound of low engines rumbling in the distance stopped him cold. Hoverbikes, he thought. Coming their way, fast.

  Vic scurried up the docking ramp, using his hands to spring up the incline as he shouted for Frank to shut the door. He could hear the engines whining, building enough power to get them off the ground as fast as possible. A loud pinging noise echoed from the cockpit, and Bob Buehl called out, "They're locking onto us, Captain!"

  "Get us out of here, now!"

  "We won't make it in time, and they know it, sir," Buehl said, keeping both the throttle and brake pressed down, waiting for Vic's command. "But they're not firing."

  Frank leaned down to look through the ship's starboard window. He could see a dozen hoverbikes equipped with heavy weapons mounted on either side, their gaping mouths aimed at the side of their ship. The bikes were only the first wave. Larger vehicles were arriving in billowing clouds of dust. Armored tracs with anti-aircraft cannons, and dune buggies equipped with missiles were speeding down the road to join the others. They were already close enough to fire. It was just a show of force.

  "They want the karjarra," Frank said. "That's the only reason they haven't killed us yet."

  "They'll kill us as soon as we give it to them," Monster said. "Guaranteed."

  "Maybe they will," Frank said, "but the way they do it's going to be a lot less excruciatingly painful, I bet." He looked at Vic and said, "Well?"

  Before Vic could speak, Bob Buehl turned in his seat and said, "We're not surrendering. Forget it. Jump out if you want, but me and Monster aren't coming."

  Monster's shaggy eyebrow raised and he said, "I was not aware you spoke for me, human. I will fight with my team."

  "No, you won't," Buehl said, keeping his hands firmly down on the levers. "We have to at least try and get away."

  "You are acting like a coward and I will not be any part of it," Monster snarled. The mantipor moved to get out of his seat, and Buehl released the brake slightly, making the ship lurch upwards violently. Buehl slammed the brake back down again, letting them know that at that moment, he was the only one in control.

  One of the hoverbikes fired a warning shot at the side of the ship, missing it by a few feet, but detonating close enough to rock them sideways. Sparks rained against the side of their hull, filling the cockpit with blinding light.

  Vic braced himself against the wall and shouted, "What the hell has gotten into you, Bob?"

  Buehl glanced at Monster and then down at the floor. "I can't say it. Just trust me."

  "I do trust you, but in case you haven't noticed, my plate's a little full here and I don't have time for guessing games," Vic barked. "Now, tell me what your problem is, Mr. Buehl. I'm getting a little sick and tired of the insubordination around here."

  Buehl swallowed stiffly and said, "I know these kinds of people, sir. Human trash. Same kind I was raised with. What do you think is going to happen if they get their hands on Monster?"

  Monster stared at him without speaking, and Buehl looked down. "You can call me a coward, and you can call me insubordinate, and I'll live with that, but so help me God I will fly this ship right into the heart of the nearest star before I hand over one of my brothers to those sons of bitches."

  None of the others spoke, and one by one they all turned to look at their Captain, waiting to hear his response. Vic sighed so hard that his lips fluttered. "I guess there's no way we can outfly their rockets, is there, Bob?"

  "No, sir," Buehl said.

  "And Monster, I'm guessing there's no way you'd agree to hide in the cargo hatch while the rest of us see if
we can talk our way out of this?"

  "They won't talk with you, Captain, and you know it," Monster replied.

  "Well, boys, I guess that's that. It's been a good run. Bob, land the ship. Gentlemen, arm yourselves with whatever weapons you can. It has been an ˗"

  Bob Buehl shot forward in his seat and said, "What the hell is that thing?"

  Frank and Monster both leapt forward to stare through the main port, and Vic said, "Hey, I'm giving you your last orders, you ungrateful bastards."

  Frank waved his hand at him from behind, saying, "Hold that thought, Vic. We've got bigger problems."

  Vic leaned forward over the back of Monster's chair in time to see an enormous ship lowering through the sky, coming down over top of the crowd of hoverbikes and armored vehicles. There were no markings on the ship. No identifying features of any kind. It was a sleek, fierce-looking thing, with golden plating that shimmered in the darkness. The ship was four times larger than their own, with massive, interstellar engines mounted along the back like fiery, demonic mouths.

  "You see that, Frank? That is the kind of ship you should have come gotten us with," Vic said.

  "Shut up."

  "Is it Unification?" Vic said.

  Monster's fingers flew over the controls, but he shook his head, "All our systems are jammed. I've never seen anything like it before."

  "Whoever it is, they had enough money and resources to build their own custom warship," Buehl said.

  A shriek built from the new vessel, beginning like a low-pitched whine that built rapidly into a crescendo of ear-splitting fury, until a bright arc of light burst forth, sizzling through the sky toward the hoverbikes. The bikers looked up, stupefied by the focused purple electricity speeding toward them, all of the hair on their arms and heads standing on end as the systems and dials on their vehicles and weapons crackled and shorted out.

  The beam struck a clustered group of armored tracs and dune buggies first, reducing all living matter to ash at first impact. Vehicles were left nothing more than melted heaps of scrap.

  A second beam fired from the ship's starboard wing, caving in the ledge of the dusty hillside, raining dozens of blackened, twisted hoverbikes down on top of their brethren. The remaining bikers revved their engines and scattered into the hills, crashing into one another in their mad dash to escape. The massive ship hovered patiently, waiting for the rest to leave.

  Frank let out a shallow laugh and said, "Well, that's the thing about being scumbag drug dealers, I guess. You just never know who you're going to piss off."

  "Bob, back us away from here while we still can and get us the hell away from that thing," Vic said.

  "Aye, Captain," Buehl nodded.

  "Slowly, Bob," Vic said. "That's it. Let's just slip out the back door here." He watched Buehl deftly maneuver the brake and throttle, working both levers until they began to reverse ever so softly and ascend. "By the way," Vic said, turning to look at the rest of the men. "I'm really angry with you guys. I had a great speech ready. It would have really inspired you."

  "To do what, die?" Frank said.

  "Well, basically," Vic said. "But to die feeling really, really inspired."

  "I admit, I like this scenario better," Monster said.

  "Me too," Frank said.

  Vic shrugged and said, "See, that's your problem. No appreciation for sentiment around here."

  "Why don't you try to come up with something inspiring for this?" Frank said. "How the mighty Grendel Unit valiantly retreated from certain death. But don't make it sound like we're running away. Call it tactically repositioning, or something."

  "Guys," Buehl said.

  "I'm going to tactically reposition your head, momentarily" Vic said.

  "Guys!" Buehl shouted.

  "What!"

  "It sees us."

  They all leaned forward and watched as the unmarked, golden ship began to turn in place, coming about to face them. The massive ports of its winged laser cannons were large enough to consume them whole.

  "Great. Way to go, Frank," Vic said.

  "What? What did I do?"

  "You just couldn't shut up, could you? All we had to do was make a quiet escape, but you and your big mouth gave us away."

  "Oh, right. Like they could hear me from a whole other ship."

  "It wouldn't surprise me. If we're about to get melted by space cannons, just know that I hold you fully responsible for being dumb, and also for not letting me finish my speech."

  "Go ahead, make your speech now," Frank said.

  "No. Now you don't deserve to hear it."

  The ship began moving forward, coming toward them. They collectively held their breath and gripped the sides of their seats in anticipation of hearing the deathly burst of energy, but none came. It continued moving, until it was centered above them, and stopped. Buehl looked up in confusion and said, "What does it want us to do? Land?"

  A circular port spun in a circular motion along the underside of the ship, dialing clockwise as it opened wide enough to reveal a shining metal disc. There was a loud humming noise coming from the disc, and their ship began to rise.

  Buehl's hands flew over the ship's controls futilely. "We're in full magnetic lock, Captain. I can't get us out of their hold."

  The roof of their ship made a dull thunk as it seated onto the magnet. Once they were secured, the golden ship's engines fired, heading up through the atmosphere, and taking them along with it.

  Bob Buehl stared up at the ship towing them and said, "I bet they're taking us back to the prison."

  Frank shook his head, "Who would have a ship like that if they worked for the prison?"

  "Bounty hunters," Buehl said.

  "Really? Is there good money in that?" Frank said. "Maybe we should think about doing that. If we live, I mean."

  "It could be any one of our enemies," Monster said. "They are not in short supply."

  Vic turned in his chair to get away from the conversation. He felt the urge to stare out the window. In the distance, a thousand stars flickered against the never-ending black of space. Even after all his years riding on spacecraft, he still found himself in awe of how beautiful it all was. From Earth, or any other inhabited world, you were lucky to see a few hundred stars. The atmosphere and pollution and lights of civilization all dulled the night sky, smearing it over.

  Some people developed a sudden fear of space, paralyzed by the idea that if the engines failed and communications went down, all very real possibilities, they would spin out unencumbered for all eternity. Sometimes, military vessels or cargo transports reported seeing one of those ghost ships, a silent, frozen hulk of metal floating in the distance.

  If I found one, I'd thaw it out and trade it for this one, Vic thought bitterly. At least it would probably have some weapons.

  He did not mind the idea of floating away. He knew that if the time ever came where there was no hope of escape, he would open a cargo hatch and go out into the void. He'd drift out into that vast, black ocean, stretch out his arms and legs and let go.

  In prison, he'd fantasized that in death, one was free of the confinement of their own body and allowed to travel peacefully through the universe. To see all the nebula and quasars and pierce the heart of a black hole without any fear.

  It was just a dream, but he hoped that was what it was like in the end. And not just for him. For everyone. Even the people he'd killed, even the ones who'd truly deserved it. He hoped that when they were done with this life, with all of the struggle and conflict and pain, all of them were set free.

  He looked up at the ship towing them. No doubt, they were going to take him and his men someplace awful and attempt to do horrible things to them. In the end, Vic would die regretting only the work he'd left unfinished. But he hoped, with all of his heart, that once he was dead he would be sprung forth into the universe and no longer care.

  If peace is found in death, then I welcome it, he thought. Because life, as I have known it, has only been war. He pre
ssed his hand against the window and closed his eyes, feeling the cold glass on his palm and taking long, slow breaths.

  "We're slowing down," Buehl said. "They must be taking us to that moon over there."

  "Oh, good. I always wanted to die on a moon," Frank said.

  Buehl turned in his seat, "What? Are you serious?"

  "No, I'm not serious, you idiot," Frank snapped. He looked back at the moon, "Actually, I always wanted to die in bed, after being ridden hard and put away wet." He sighed longingly and said, "By your mom."

  Monster's laugh was low and deep, rumbling through the cockpit and sweeping all of them away in it, until even Buehl himself was bent over, howling so loudly that they could no longer hear the engines of the ship above.

  26. Bring It On Home

  The sky was the color of blood orange. Clouds, long and thin twists of cottony fumes, were smudged across the backdrop of crimson and gold. A fat yellow sun was setting over the barren horizon, and Frank looked down through the window and saw nothing but brown flatland. They descended toward the surface, kicking up waves of dust and debris as they settled.

  "Bob, can you get any lifeform readings?" Frank said, keeping his forehead pressed against the glass.

  Buehl tested the controls and said, "Negative. They're still jamming us."

  Monster came up beside Frank, his soft fur brushing the glass as he peered down through the window and said, "What kind of life could survive on such a place as this?"

  "That's what worries me," Frank said. "So far, on this job I've met carnivorous worms, telepathic lizard people, fish-things that wear gaudy jewelry, and cybernetic biker gangs, just to name a few. Kind of makes me wonder what fun things are waiting down there."

  "The Cryndian," Monster said, nodding thoughtfully. "I thought of him often while in prison."

  Frank looked sideways at the mantipor, "Why would you waste time thinking about that jackhole?"

  Monster smiled, so that his lower fangs stuck out over his top lip, "I am craving seafood."

  They were only a few hundred feet above the moon's surface when the ship's magnetic lock released them. The systems in the cockpit kicked back online, humming and crackling to recalibrate their descent, and Bob Buehl flung himself into his pilot's seat and started throwing switches. They were only a short distance from the ground when their thrusters fired, bouncing them back into the air. They careened sideways as Buehl cranked the controls, trying to steady them, but the bottom of the ship scraped the mud and rock beneath them. They skidded in a wide circle, forming a vortex of dust and smoke, until they came to a stop.