Grendel Unit

by Bernard Schaffer

  Vic grabbed the edge of his chair and tried to catch his breath, looking around to make sure everyone was all right. Through the cockpit's windshield, he could see the larger ship descending in front of them, its massive winged cannons aimed squarely at them. They could vaporize this ship and everyone on it in less than a second, Vic thought. But they haven't done it yet, and they brought us here, so maybe they want to talk.

  Vic straightened his uniform shirt and said, "Everybody gear up. One rifle, one sidearm."

  Frank looked at him in confusion, "Are you nuts? They just wiped out a well-armed militia with two blasts and hijacked us like we were the all-girl glee club. What good is a rifle and a sidearm going to do?"

  "It's the principal of it," Vic said, taking a pistol from the pile of weapons and checking it over before he slid it into the holster on his side.

  "It's an exercise in futility and will only get us killed that much quicker."

  "Well, look on the bright side, Frank," Buehl said, rolling back his shoulders and showing off the thick, sinewy tendons in his neck. "At least you'll die having finally gotten some exercise."

  They exited the ship and assembled at the bottom of the ramp, each of them staring directly ahead. The massive ship's landing lights illuminated the canyon so brightly that all they could make out was its outline, and the silhouettes of a sea of figures assembled in front of it.

  "Here goes nothing," Frank muttered, and the group of them began to walk.

  The group assembled in front of the ship was coming into greater focus as they approached. There were at least twenty of them, maybe more. They stood upright, not hunched over, Frank thought, gratefully. No tails. At least they aren't lizards, he thought. If this was it, he wanted it to be humans. Not for any racist reasons. Just that he was fairly certain humans wouldn't eat them. At least not alive, anyway.

  He made out the occasional eye, piercing through the dark. The momentary flash of a weapon. Nothing more. He shielded his eyes, trying to get a better view of the group assembled before them, but winced at the harsh reflection of light on their shining, plated armor. They were massive creatures, that much was sure, he thought. Much too big to be human.

  "Hold up," Vic said, raising his right hand. "That's close enough."

  No one from the other side moved.

  "My name is Captain Victor Cojo of Grendel Unit," Vic called out, addressing the shadows. "This is my crew, and that, while it pains me to say it, is our ship. I request to speak with your commanding officer and to know what business you have with us. We are in the middle of a rather important mission."

  A deep voice rose up from the dark, booming across the deserted landscape, "And what business is that, Victor Cojo, of Grendel Unit?"

  Vic's rifle was slung across his chest and he folded his hands down on top of it, resting them there, and said, "Grendel is tasked with eliminating the enemies of peace and justice."

  "Untrue," the voice replied. "Your unit is outlawed by your own government. They want you dead."

  Vic's jaw set firmly and he called out, "We do not serve governments. We serve those who believe in the truth of Unification. Now, if you are citizens of that great dream, I tell you to stand down and let us carry out our mission. But if you are its enemies, pay great attention, because those of you who live will tell stories of this day for a long, long time to come."

  The four of them grabbed hold of their weapons and braced themselves, ready to fire at the first sign of aggression from the shadows. Each of them felt as if time slowed, and the moment seemed eternal, waiting for someone to raise their weapon and fire.

  Instead, an enormous creature stepped forward from the center of the group, his fine, shining fur reflecting in the lights of the ship, and he said, "I see you are not all dirty little humans. Tell me, what is that weak, frail looking thing that stands with you? Your pet?"

  Monster's soft moan of dismay made the rest of the group turn and look at him. The mantipor lowered his head and said, "Please, no."

  "What?" Frank whispered urgently. "Spit it out."

  "Anyone but him."

  "Who him? Him who?" Frank snapped. "A good him? A bad one?"

  "The worst one," Monster groaned, then sank down to one knee in the dirt. He looked mournfully at the rest of the team and said, "Please kneel, my friends."

  Vic and Frank looked at one another warily, but lowered themselves beside Monster. "Who or what am I kneeling to, exactly," Vic said.

  "Wuotan," the voice from the center of the crowd called out. His armor rattled as he moved forward, the plates on his chest as large as sections of a ship's hull. He smacked himself on the chest and thundered, "Chieftain of the Mantipors."

  Vic's eyes widened as he looked up, now able to see the enormous, shaggy figure coming toward them, his shoulders so wide that it blocked the bright lights of their ship. The mantipors filing in behind him towered over all of them.

  Frank turned his head toward Monster and whispered, "What happened, are you not full grown yet or something?"

  "Shut up, human," Monster grunted. His large green eyes were aimed at the dusty ground, refusing to look up. "Well met, Wuotan," Monster said. "We are in debt to you. Your arrival was most fortuitous."

  Wuotan stopped in front of Monster, the fine chestnut shade of their fur nearly identical, save for the swathes of gray running throughout the Chieftain's large arms and face. He smiled whimsically at the smaller mantipor and said, "No, it wasn't. We have been searching far and wide for you, little one. Stand up."

  Monster slowly rose to his feet, coming to his full height which did not bring him as tall as the Chieftain's chin. Wuotan's eyes narrowed on Monster and he said, "It has been a long, long time."

  Monster did not move.

  "I heard you let yourself be taken prisoner by the humans."

  Monster nodded silently.

  "And it was these…creatures…who came to your aid?" Wuotan said, his lips curling in slight distaste.

  Monster waved for Frank and Buehl to get up. "These two men gave up their standing as soldiers and risked their lives to save mine."

  Wuotan looked down at Vic and said, "And what of him?"

  Monster turned toward his Captain and said, "He tried to sacrifice himself to spare me, and even while imprisoned, continued to fight as only the rarest of warriors would. As a leader, I have never, in my entire life, seen his equal."

  There was shifting and murmuring among the ranks of soldiers standing behind Wuotan as they looked at Vic. Wuotan snickered slightly as he regarded the tiny human and he said, "Any one of these warriors behind me would give his life at my slightest word. Tell me something, brave leader, would your men do the same for you?"

  "No, they would not," Vic said evenly.

  Wuotan was about to make a sharp remark, when Vic nodded at the rest of the Grendels and said, "Because they know exactly how many enemy lives are worth one of their own to me. I would never throw them away so carelessly."

  "Is that right?" the Chieftain said, glancing back at his warriors, showing Vic that there were multitudes to choose from. He waved his hand at them and said, "And tell me, just how many of your enemies lives are worth just one of your precious soldiers?"

  Vic's eyes narrowed on the massive Chieftain and he said, "An infinite amount."

  Wuotan's maw peeled back to reveal a thin, sharp-fanged smile as he muttered, "Bold words." He crossed toward Monster, looking the smaller mantipor up and down with clear disdain and he said, "I am sure human warriors such as the men at your side are worthy of such confidence. But not this wretched, puny thing." His hand snapped forward into Monster's chest with a deep thud.

  Monster staggered back on his heels, causing the rest of the mantipors to jeer at him and call out. Wuotan moved in to strike him again, but Vic shouted, "That's enough! I don't care who you are, but touch one of my men again and I'm going to learn something I've always been curious about."

  Wuotan's eyes were fixed on Monster, daring him to move, to d
o so much as look at him. He did not bother to look at the puny human who'd foolishly placed himself between a Chieftain and one of his subjects. "And what is that?" he grunted.

  Tink tink tink.

  The mantipor Chieftain stopped moving and Vic cocked an eyebrow up at him.

  Tink tink tink.

  Wuotan's snout twisted in anger when he looked down and saw a large pistol in Vic's right hand, the weapon's barrel making the dull tink tink tink sound against the metal armored piece covering his groin.

  "I've always wondered what a female mantipor looks like," Vic said. "Touch him again, and I'm going to find out."

  Wuotan looked down at the pistol aimed between his legs, then back up at Vic and he let out a slow laugh that began like a pebble rolling down a hillside, one that picked up speed until it grew into an enormous avalanche of sound. The Chieftain threw back his head as he laughed, stepping back to better regard Vic. He pointed at the gun, still leveled at his crotch and tried to speak, but burst into laughter again, sputtering out the words, "Female…mantipor…"

  Finally, he collected himself and wiped his flat nose with his furry arm and he sniffled, "I like you, Captain Cojo. Often I have wondered what would drive a Prince from his people and home. Perhaps I begin to see why."

  Vic looked at him in confusion and said, "Prince?"

  Wuotan waved his hand dismissively at Monster and said, "Yes, yes, that weak little thing standing behind you. My firstborn son." He draped a shaggy arm over Monster's neck and pulled him away, dragging him toward the crowd of warriors, crying out, "Look who has come back to grace us with his presence! And still no bigger than when he left!"

  The fire raged in the moon's fading light. The tribe of mantipors surrounded the fire, and the Grendels sat hidden in the crowd, their boots digging into the dirt. It smelled like copper, Vic thought. Like blood.

  Strange stars flickered beyond the mountains, fat and full, closer than he was used to. All around him, deep into the shadows, were other kinds of flickering lights. The eyes of mantipor warriors assembled around their Chieftain.

  And Prince, Vic reminded himself.

  Monster was seated at his father's right, and the two of them were leaned close to one another, both of them clutching long, curling horns that spilled wine over the rim every time they moved. Wuotan clutched his in one hand and nearly drained it every time he raised it to his mouth.

  Plates of food were passed from hand to hand, until Vic was given a large metal dish holding some kind of roasted bird. He smiled and bent discreetly to smell it, trying to determine what it was. Several mantipor warriors were close enough to wave for him to hurry and eat, laughing at him for hesitating. One of them pointed behind him and Vic turned to see Bob Buehl tearing through a chunk of meat with his teeth and gnawing on it. Grease was dripping down Buehl's hands onto the dirt, and he was trying not to get any on his pants.

  "Is it any good, Bob?" Vic said.

  Buehl grunted and said, "It's protein. So who cares?"

  "It's probably better than half the junk he normally eats," Frank said, grasping a miniaturized horn in both hands. He struggled to keep it from spilling as he lowered his head to take a sip. "This was one of the smallest ones they had," he said. "They told me it's what they give to their children."

  Vic nodded, only half-paying attention. He was too focused on the creatures surrounding them. Warriors, larger and shaggier than any that Vic had ever seen, but unmistakable. Whether human or any other species, the tribe of brothers who fought together, who had seen death up close and lived, was universal. Vic listened to their laughter and jests and the way they bickered and could not help but smile.

  Frank navigated around Buehl, spilling drips of wine on the ground that caused the pilot to yelp in fear that his perfectly shined boots might get smudged. "Move over then," Frank said. "It's not like you weren't going to polish them a hundred times tomorrow morning anyway. God forbid you look like a field agent for once." He plopped down next to Vic and offered him some of the wine in his horn.

  Vic waved it away and shook his head. "I want to stay sharp. There's a reason they've brought us here, but I'm not sure what it is yet."

  Frank shrugged and nodded his head toward Monster. "They came to rescue the crown prince. Daddy obviously doesn't like the idea of Son Number One running all over the galaxy with filthy humans, but he still loves the little furball, I'm guessing."

  "There's more than that," Vic said. "We're not out of the woods yet, here."

  "Spoken like a true victim of prison paranoia."

  Vic looked sideways at him, but could not bring himself to disagree.

  "Speaking of paranoia," Frank said slowly. "Did you read it yet?"

  "Read what?"

  "You know what. The last orders from the General."

  "What General?"

  Frank tipped the horn slightly so that a cupful of wine splashed down on Vic's lap. Vic cursed and slid back, and Frank said, "Oops."

  Vic swiped at his crotch and muttered, "Way to make a good first impression on our new friends, you idiot."

  Frank raised the horn to his lips again to nonchalantly take another sip. When he finished, he wiped his mouth and said, "Hey, remember that General we used to work for? The one who helped break you out of prison, and gave us some final orders? The ones I handed you on the ship and you told me you'd read. Ring any bells, or would the rest of this wine over your head help?"

  Vic sighed, "Yes, I read them."

  Frank lowered his head slightly, waiting for Vic to continue. When he didn't, Frank said, "And? What the hell were they?"

  "They were confidential," Vic said.

  Frank tipped the horn again, spilling more wine on Vic's legs. Vic grabbed the rim of the horn and said, "If you do that one more time, I'm going to beat you to death with this thing."

  "You're a real hypocrite, you know that?"

  "Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

  "Oh, knock it off. You cling to this make believe fantasy of military order and regimentation like it means something, but only when it's convenient. The second you don't like the orders, or you've got a better idea, all ranks go out the window and it's just Lone Gunman Vic off killing whoever he wants to kill, doing whatever he wants to do. If I followed orders the way you wish I did, you'd be dead right now. At the very least, you'd be rotting in Gratersfield while I'd be on some cake assignment, surrounding by women and warm oceans. Oh yeah, they offered me that, Vic," Frank said. "Order. Rank. Let me tell you about the people at the top of those ranks, the ones looking down from on high, deciding which platoon they can blow up next just for their own amusement. They're maniacs. Entitled, vicious, vindictive maniacs. I couldn't give a wet crap about whatever made-up rank they wear on their made-up little uniforms." He took another sip, having to hoist the horn high in the air to drink the last of it, until it dribbled down from the corners of his mouth. He lowered the horn and belched loudly, drawing the cheers and applause of a few surrounding mantipors. Frank waved to them, then looked at Vic and said, "Screw you. Captain."

  "You done?" Vic said.

  Frank closed one eye and peered down into the horn. "I thought this was wine, but I see some kind of clumpy cabbage, or swamp grass, at the bottom. At least, I hope it's cabbage. Hell, is that fur down there?"

  "I'm going to be sick if you keep drinking that."

  Frank picked at the bottom of his glass and said, "You know what your whole problem is? You never stop to smell the flowers. It's always some damn mission with you. You never unwind. It's made you a rotten bastard over the years, really."

  Vic looked around the dry, brown landscape and sniffed several times. "There, I tried. There aren't any flowers to smell. Stop bugging me."

  "I'm serious, Vic. One of these days, do me a favor. Just stop whatever it you're doing, take a minute, and shut everything else off. It's important."

  Vic grunted and shook his head, knowing it was pointless to argue. He leaned back on his elbow and said, "You were with Gene
ral Milner at the Presidential compound, right?"

  Frank nodded, "Wolmar, that bastard. You can add him to top of the heap of entitled, vicious maniacs."

  "The General shared your assessment of the President," Vic said, then turned to look away.

  Frank cocked an eyebrow at him, trying to suppress a hiccup. "Wait. You mean Milner's orders had something to do with the President of Unification?"

  Vic's eyes were fixed on the Chieftain of the mantipors, watching him roar with laughter and hold court, lording over the others. Their affection for him was obvious, as was their deference. "Do you know what it means to kill a King?" Vic said. "Any idiot can do it. Throughout history, small men with cheap weapons have killed important, powerful leaders. But what then? A thousand petty warlords rush to divvy up the lands. Anarchy and devastation that can last hundreds of years. The people suffer just as badly as they did before. It's a matter of what evil you prefer. Who has the right to make that decision?"

  Frank tried to keep the fear out of his voice, but it crept through. "Vic, did Milner tell you he wants you to kill President Wolmar?"

  "No," Vic said. He turned to look at Frank said, "He told me how to."

  27. Kashmir

  At midnight, Wuotan summoned Vic to counsel, so that they might speak in private. Frank had emptied two horns and was working through a third. His eyes were heavy. The fire blazed in the darkness, casting long shadows over the large, hairy creatures that surrounded him at every turn. Many of them were stretched out on the dirt, snoring like chainsaws. Frank snorted at the way their mouths opened to reveal their fangs and long tongues, reminding him of a dog he'd owned as a child.