Grendel Unit

by Bernard Schaffer

  "I'm going back to the ship," Buehl said, stifling a yawn. "You coming?"

  "No, I'm staying right here," Frank muttered. His mouth was dry and he paused, wondering if he was slurring his words. He forced himself to concentrate and said, "I'm sick of spaceships. I am going to sleep under the stars. With my people."

  "Your people?"

  "Yes, my new people. From now on, call me Frank of the mantipors."

  Buehl looked around and laughed, "Well, I hope they realize how lucky they are."

  Frank held out his hands, embracing the air like he was trying to hold all of the warriors around him in a wide embrace. "My people," he said.

  Buehl was gone by the time he looked again, vanished into the night, beyond the glow of the fire. Frank leaned back unsteadily on his elbows and lifted his head to the stars, inhaling deeply to take in the fresh air. It was turning cold and he did not mind. There was dirt in his teeth and he did not mind that, either.

  He wondered about the mantipor females. Were they as big as Monster? Were they shaggy and hairy like the warriors around him? Yikes, he thought. He closed his eyes and pictured them as sleek, softly furred women. Something feline. Ferocious, yes, but with long, slender tails that curled up behind their shapely backsides. That was good, he thought. And if female mantipors weren't like that, surely some species out there was.

  That was the wonder of the modern era, he told himself. If you didn't like your home world, leave it. There were thousands of others to choose from. If you weren't attracted to anyone from your own species, find a different one, there were plenty to choose from on that end as well.

  The galaxy was a playground at everyone's disposal with limitless things to explore and enjoy, and for some damned reason, all they ever did was fight over meaningless nonsense. Race. Religion. Money. Power. It was history all over again.

  For all humanity's posturing about being the most advanced species in existence, the ones who had colonized the rest of the galaxy in the name of peace and advanced technology, they were no better than any of the ancient empires of Earth.

  And just like then, we have a mad King to contend with, he thought.

  He laid his head back against the ground and folded his hands across his chest, wiggling until he'd dug himself into the dirt enough to be comfortable. He could hear himself breathing deeper and deeper until it sounded like a soft purr, wishing he was curled up against the furry warmth of one of the feline-human hybrids he'd imagined.

  She had bracelets on her arms that jingled as she stroked his hair and face, running her claws gently across his chest, and lower. The bracelets jingled in his ear like bells, loud enough so that he could not hear what she was saying to him, purring to him, her whiskers tickling the sides of his face.

  "What did you say, sweetie?" he whispered.

  The voice was creaking and raspy when it responded, "I said get up. You're sleeping in the dirt like a worm. I thought you were the healer."

  Frank's eyes fluttered open and he saw an old, gray-haired mantipor standing over him, looking down with narrowed eyes. He was skinny, scrawny-looking, with the patchy fur of a stray animal, and his fangs had long since been worn dull and flat. As he stood there, tiny metal bells tied into long braids from his beard tinkled in the wind. He nodded to Frank and said, "You are the healer, are you not?"

  "I'm the medic," Frank said, struggling to sit up. "I guess that's sort of the same thing." He shivered with sudden cold and wrapped his arms around himself. There was nothing but swirling dirt and darkness as far as he could see. The mantipors had fled the open sky to find shelter and left him there. So much for my new people, he thought.

  "Come sit with me by my fire. Quickly. The dust devils are angry tonight."

  Frank struggled to get up, still feeling the effects of the drink, but the little bit of sleep had done him good. He covered his eyes to shield them from the swirling dust and called out, "We should get to the ship. It isn't far from here."

  The old mantipor ignored him and sat down beside a small, flickering fire. He folded his legs and leaned forward, peering directly into the flames. Dirt and pebbles whipped Frank's face as he turned to look for the ship, but could not even see the boarding lights. Frank lowered his head and hurried toward the mantipor, dropping in front of the fire in a heap.

  "The fire will protect you," the creature said. "The devils dare not approach it."

  The swirl and roar of the wind was all around him, but Frank realized he was no longer being pelted with stones. He looked up and flinched at the vortex of dirt spinning past their backs, convinced he could see angry-looking creatures within it, glaring at him, desperate to pull him away from the fire.

  "Who are you?" Frank said.

  "You may call me Bismaht." The mantipor produced a small pouch hanging from his neck and reached inside with balding, crooked fingers. The skin was pale white beneath his fur and the claws at the tips of his fingers were black and jagged. He pinched a drop of glittering grey powder from the pouch and threw it at the fire, making the flames flash high and bright. Frank raised his hands to cover his face and felt the sting of the flames on the back of his arms.

  "What do you see?" Bismaht said.

  Frank turned back toward the flames, realizing that the orange and yellow hues seemed to be shifting and forming into shapes. Frank squinted, trying to discern the patterns, seeing a circle here, the dim outline of a figure there, but the heat stung the skin on his face and he cried out and reared back.

  Bismaht put his hand on Frank's shoulder and squeezed it gently, saying, "You must be strong. Look again."

  Frank lowered his hands and looked again, careful not to lean too close.

  At the center of the flames, the outline of the figure reappeared and began to move. It was a heavily-armored warrior, standing on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a vast army. They were uniformed soldiers, carrying banners and waving flags in celebration over the remains of a massive battle. The warrior stood over them on the edge of a cliff, and reached up to remove his helmet. Its metal surface was scarred and dented as he twisted it free and tossed it aside. Frank let out an audible gasp when he saw the scarred and twisted face of Vic Cojo revealed.

  Supreme General Cojo thrust his arms in the air and the soldiers below him fell silent instantly. His eyes shined brightly within the flames, and he called out, "For many years, we have waged war to secure peace in the galaxy. We have faced our enemies with dignity, and honor. Things which they knew little of. Each and every man who has fought under my banner shall forever be known as one of the finest warriors of our era. You, and all of our brave brothers who have perished to make this day a reality."

  The soldiers' cheers echoed throughout the valley, some of them singing, "Cojo! Cojo!" in triumph. The Supreme General raised his hand for them to be silent once more and he said, "I know you have longed for the day when we would finally put an end to the wicked crimes of our enemies. Today is that day, my brothers. Today is that day. Bring me the prisoner. Lay him low before the glory of the united allied forces he tried so desperately to destroy. Let him look upon his absolute defeat before his sentence is meted out."

  The soldiers turned expectantly toward a large cage positioned at the base of the cliff. The creature inside railed at them, roaring viciously and swiping back and forth with its claws. Electro-whips snapped the cage's bars, forcing the beast back as they opened the front gate. The air filled with the stink of ozone as they whipped the creature again and again, filling the cage with sparks and flashes of blue flame, until the mantipor finally staggered out.

  They jeered and cursed the mantipor, reaching down for rocks and handfuls of dirt to pelt him with. They'd rained fire on the enemy camp and most of the creature's chest and face was blackened fur.

  "Make him kneel," Cojo said.

  The mantipor turned and looked up at the Supreme General and snarled, "Come and make me do it, yourself…old friend."

  Cojo's response was lost under the crack of the whips
striking Monster on the legs and back, leaving wide gaps in the mantipor's skin. Finally, he lumbered to one knee and the beatings halted.

  "As an enemy of the citizens of New Unification, I sentence you to death," Cojo said. His mouth trembled as he spat out the last word, "Traitor."

  Monster raised his head, shouting, "And I sentence you to the crime of genocide! How many planets have you razed? How many civilizations have you decimated?"

  "As many as it took to bring you to this point. I would have blotted a thousand suns from the sky and all of their planets in order to end your reign of terror."

  Monster struggled back to his feet, his massive arms and legs trembling under the weight of the chains and the injuries covering his body. "I only did what it took to oppose you! Someone had to. I regret nothing."

  "Kill him," Vic said. He scowled in triumph as several of his men moved forward with their weapons raised.

  "Wait!" a voice screamed from the rear of the assembled troops. A haggard looking man tore his way through the crowd, shoving past the soldiers. He was dressed in little more than stained rags, the same filthy gray as his long, tangled beard. "Captain! Vic!" he cried out hoarsely. "Let me through! Get out of my damned way and let me through!"

  Monster lifted his head at the sound of the man's voice and his eyes widened. "No," he said. "What are you doing here? They'll kill you."

  "I don't care," Bob Buehl panted, forcing himself toward the prisoner. One of the guards lifted his whip and Buehl said, "Put that down, boy." He looked up at the Supreme General, gathering his courage and said, "Permission to speak, Captain."

  The Supreme General looked down at the man and his face seemed to soften for a moment. He nodded slightly and said, "What is it, Bob?"

  "You can't do this, sir," Buehl said. "You can't let it come to this. Please. For me. For us. I beg you, let Monster go."

  "Save your breath," Monster said.

  "Be quiet," Buehl hissed. "Both of you. Enough already. After all those years together, and look what's become of us."

  Cojo took a deep breath before speaking, then shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, Bob. It's too late."

  "It is not too late!" Buehl said. "We still have time, Vic. Please."

  "You know what he did!" Cojo shouted, his voice echoing throughout the valley. It cracked slightly when he said, "You know who he did it to. I want you to leave, Bob. I don't want you to see this."

  "Frank would not want this, Captain," Buehl plead, tears filling his eyes "He would not allow you to do this, and neither will I."

  "Leave, Bob. I'm ordering you to leave. I'm begging you. You have a full pardon. Go in peace and never return. Please."

  "I won't. No. I refuse."

  Bob Buehl stripped off the rags and threw them aside, taking his place next to Monster. Monster tried to push him back, "Get away from here, you fool."

  "No," Buehl said, knocking the mantipor's paw away. "You'll have to kill me too, sir. But you can't, can you? You are still a Grendel, and so are we. I know that means something to you. It has to."

  Supreme General Cojo looked at his two former officers, going back and forth between them both, before he finally said, "Things have changed, Bob. It saddens me you're the only one who doesn't see that." He nodded at the soldiers holding the rifles and said, "Kill them both."

  Frank reared back from the fire, shaking his head violently like he was coming out of a nightmare and trying to clear it from his mind. He clutched the sides of his head and gasped, "What the hell was that?" He felt the rough pads of the mantipor's paw rest against his arm reassuringly, the fur was warm against his skin. He shuddered and tried to breathe. "It was so real. Was that a vision of the future? How does everything go so wrong?"

  "Can you hear me?"

  "Tell me what that was," Frank whimpered, still covering his head. "Why were they fighting? Why were they talking about me like I was dead?"

  "Frank?" the mantipor beside him said.

  "Mmm?" he muttered, feeling the cool breeze blowing across his face. It tickled his eyes and made him blink. The ground before him was blurry and hard to make out, a mass of never-ending green. Trees above them clustered together so thickly the sun barely broke through, and no birds called out in song. No animals skittered through the brush. There was only the soft, slithering sound of Nyular.

  His hands shook upon the wheelchair's armrests, a palsied, uncontrollable violation of his motor skills that he'd long ago given up fighting. His legs continued to move under the blanket covering his lap, but at least he could no longer feel them.

  "The spray has almost worn off," Monster said, staring at the ground and checking for worms. "The little beasts are coming closer."

  Frank did not care.

  The damp made his bones ache. It was time for his medication soon. Lately, it had always been time for more medication. He no longer knew what it was like to exist without the fog of painkillers and a thousand other chemicals floating through his system, and he no longer cared to. Even if the worms were coming, he would not be able to see them. If he squinted hard enough, he could barely see the small assembly of stones in two piles. The piles were set up next to one another, just a few feet apart. Exactly the way they'd left them all those years ago.

  Monster sighed heavily, "I do not think I will come to this place anymore."

  Frank scowled at him, working the nubs of his teeth together and sputtering as he tried to force the words out, "H-h-how can you say that, after all they did? You'd just leave them here, would you? Alone. Abandoned?"

  Monster looked back at the graves and sighed wearily. This was an old debate. His eyes had turned milky and his fur was now white and wooly like cotton. Some mantipors lost their coats in old age, looking like worn out rugs, but not Monster. His once-massive arms and chest were still thick, but he moved slowly and groaned when he stood for too long. "You know what Emperor Wolmar would have done to their bodies. It was for the best that we brought them here."

  "They deserve m-m-m-monuments," Frank spat. "Statues!"

  "Only the winning side gets statues, Frank. You know that." He patted Frank's curved back gently and said, "You must release your guilt. Vic knew the risks of what he was doing. So did Bob. They died as warriors. We must use whatever time we have left to honor their sacrifice by living, Frank. By living. After all, what good is it to mourn the loss of life if we value it so little?"

  Frank sputtered vile things that he could not stop his damned jaw from trembling long enough to spit out, and Monster turned away from him. He turned in his chair to watch the mantipor lumber down the path back toward their ship. The creature turned his head and said, "The worms will be upon us soon. We must leave."

  "I don't care!" Frank managed. "Let them-m-m-m come!"

  Monster shrugged, "Fine. Stay with the dead if you want. I am leaving, and I will not wait for you."

  Frank remembered what the worms had done to Sonjiin's crew. How they'd bored through their bodies and brains until the living beings were nothing more than humanoid hosts for their carnivorous guests. It was the reason he and Monster had buried their fallen comrades here, knowing no one would dare visit Nyular. And now, I will rest by both of your sides, Frank thought. Perhaps the worms would not hurt when they forced their way into his body. Perhaps it didn't matter anymore.

  He forced himself out of the chair and collapsed forward onto the jungle floor. He dug up grass and dirt between his fingers, trying to keep his face up. He was going to crawl to the graves and wait. Wait for the worms, wait for death, wait to see his old friends once more.

  He heard footsteps coming up the path and said, "No! N-n-n-n-n-o."

  "You crazy old fool," Monster grumbled. He wrapped his paws around Frank's wrist and ankle and scooped him into the air like a child.

  "Let me go!" Frank screeched, fighting helplessly against the mantipor. "Let me go, you hairy son of a bitch! You don't have the right!"

  Monster carried him over his shoulder, one arm curled around the s
mall human's waist, pinning him down but careful not to squeeze too hard. For the violence of Frank's fists, they were weak and easy to ignore. "It will be all right, Frank," Monster said calmly. He grabbed the handles of Frank's wheelchair with his free paw and pushed it down the path, holding the sick man tight against his chest.

  "Let me go," Frank whimpered. "I want to stay. I don't want to live anymore, Big Man. Please."

  "I promise. It will be all right. Just a little further, old friend. Just a little bit further now. "

  Frank could hear someone saying, "It will be all right," but he ignored it and kept his eyes closed. He was lying flat on his back in the dirt and could feel the fire at his feet, but he did not move or give any indication that he was listening. He kept his eyes shut tight, refusing to open them.

  "I know you can hear me," Bismaht chuckled.

  "No I can't," Frank said.

  "Stop being a child and sit up."

  "No way."

  "You have no trust, for a healer. Open your eyes."

  "Is any of this real? Are you even real?"

  "Are you? Is anything?" Bismaht said. "And how can you be sure? In the old days, your kind believed that time was made of sand. That it passed through an hourglass and could be counted off by the grain. They believed it could run out."

  Frank exhaled deeply and tried to swallow. His throat was dried out breathing in so much dust. He could taste it on the back of his throat. The dirt and stones were digging into his back and he shifted, trying to move them aside. He could hear the whirling dust surrounding the fire and the muted howls of the creatures within it. Bismaht's soft fur whispered against his arm, warmed by the heat of the flames in front of them. "So what is time, then?" Frank finally said. "Fire?"

  "Mmm, some would agree with that. A powerful force consuming everything in its path. Bright, and ferocious while it lasts, but in the end, leaving nothing but ashes."

  He put his fingers on his throat to feel himself swallow and said, "No, not fire. Water."

  The old mantipor grunted with approval and he said, "Yes, young healer, time is exactly like water. It ebbs and flows like the tide, always bringing as much with it as it takes away, but where it begins and ends, no one can say."