Grendel Unit

by Bernard Schaffer

  He took his bloody paw and pressed it flat against Vic's so that the wounds touched and their blood flowed against one another's. "From this day forth, my tribe is yours, and your tribe is mine. Together, we will stamp out this great evil. So it is said by Wuotan on this day."

  The rest of the mantipors murmured in agreement. The Chieftain walked over to Monster and grasped his son by the shoulders. "I renounce everything I have said against you. If Bismaht would see fit to appear to this…this…" he looked at Frank in slight disgust and muttered, "creature…then it would seem your place among them is his will."

  Monster nodded and said, "I will do my best to honor you in our battles to come."

  "I know you will," Wuotan said solemnly. He straightened himself and said, "Perhaps, the next time I see you, we will be in the hall of our ancestors, telling one another of our deaths."

  "May they be glorious," Monster said.

  Wuotan clapped him on the arm and said, "May they be glorious, indeed."

  They watched the mantipors withdraw to fall in behind their Chieftain, a column of immense, fearless warriors, and Frank said, "It's a shame we couldn't borrow a few of his men. No offense, but the idea of just the four of us against all of Unification does not fill me with confidence."

  "We'll be fine," Vic said. "We've made it this far."

  Monster was staring sideways at Frank, waiting until he was sure the other mantipors were out of earshot. "You lied to my father."

  "About what?"

  "About your vision. The Great Elder shows the future to those he deems worthy. What did you see?"

  Frank looked up at Monster and said, "You know what he told me? He told me we make our own future." He turned to Vic, "Speaking of which, we need to figure out what to do with ours. I believe we have an operation to plan."

  "We do," Vic said. He saw Bob Buehl coming toward them over the sand dunes. Buehl's shirt had been ripped and he had several scratches along his chest, but he appeared unharmed otherwise.

  "I was in the middle of getting the ship ready when these two really big mantipors came and grabbed me. What the hell happened?"

  "We almost died," Frank said.

  Buehl inspected the pieces of his frayed shirt and said, "Again?"

  "Is the ship mission-ready, Sergeant?" Vic interrupted.

  "Aye, sir. I've plotted in a course for Gratersfield. We can be there in two days."

  "You think the President will still be there?" Monster said.

  "It was just a thought," Buehl said.

  Frank stopped them, "First order of business is we need a new ship. Wolmar knows we're coming."

  "We're not going after Wolmar," Vic said quietly.

  The others turned and looked at him.

  "I thought you said he was our new target," Frank said. "All that stuff about Tango Down," he said in his best Vic impersonation. "Remember?"

  "Every word," Vic said. "Wolmar's not the only open target this unit has. We took on another one, before that, and I consider it a personal embarrassment that son of a bitch is still breathing. Did you forget Andoho-Sky?"

  Frank stiffened and said, "No. Of course not."

  Vic looked at Buehl, "How about you, Bob. Did you forget those dead babies?"

  "No, I did not," Buehl said softly.

  Vic stopped in front of Monster. "And I know you didn't forget, Big Man. Did you?"

  Monster's fists tightened. "Never."

  Vic looked at his men, "They'll call us many things from now on, gentlemen. Traitors. Assassins. Usurpers. Terrorists. But one thing they will not ever call us, not as long as I live and not as long as I have command of this group, is forgetful." He put his hand out in front of them and said, "Roger that?"

  The others immediately slapped theirs down on top of his and shouted, "Roger that, sir!"

  29. Houses of the Holy

  They did not move General Milner's charred corpse, other than to roll it over on its back to remove the electronic shackles. By nightfall the animals would come down out of their caves and drag the body off. Or, if the electrical stench of his charred flesh turned the animals away, the prisoners would find some way to amuse themselves with it instead.

  Yultorot looked at the corpse's face, seeing a scream etched there permanently. His eyes were gaping wide toward the sun. Bugs buzzed in and out of the mouth now, laying eggs that would soon produce tiny gray maggots. Yultorot closed his eyes and offered a short prayer for the man, whispering, "The life of the non-believer is forfeit, but all souls are given back to Him. Go, and take joy in the truth that you have learned at last. Amen."

  Even a man as wicked as Milner, who'd oppressed the faithful, would be given the chance to earn a place in paradise. He would serve the angels for a millennia, and if his service was deemed fit, be allowed to join their ranks. Yultorot took great comfort in the Lord's mercy. It filled him with joy to think of the thousands of lost souls he'd sent into the afterlife, allowing them the chance to begin their heavenly service and atone for their sins.

  He imagined the children he'd spared from a life of wickedness greeting him upon his entrance to paradise. He would take as many of them as his own servants as he could, and be a good master to them, teaching them the ways of the Human God.

  Most of the other dignitaries had fled the planet already, escaping to their territories as if war might break out at any moment. As if they were anything to fear, Yultorot smirked. Three men and a sludgesucker. They were nothing compared to the forces of Unification, or the faith of the believers, all of which was nothing compared to the might of the Human God.

  The President approached him and put his arm on Yultorot's shoulder, "Did you enjoy your moment in the spotlight, young man?"

  Yultorot lowered his head, "Anything that spreads the word of my Lord is a good thing, Mr. President."

  Wolmar nodded and said, "Of course, of course. Come with me, I have something to show you."

  Yultorot followed the President and his security detail into the row of ships parked behind the prison yard, looking up at their gaudy decorations and banners. Flags rippled in the wind, displaying a crest of Unification.

  Parked behind the others was a different sort of ship. It was small, and sleek, like something smugglers used. As they approached, Yultorot's eyes widened. The ship's engines and armaments were like nothing he'd ever seen. It was as if the person who'd designed her had taken the best Unification designs and enhanced them with any black market technology they could find. President Wolmar stopped in front of the ship and looked back at Yultorot, saying, "Do you like her?"

  "What is it?" Yultorot whispered.

  "A gift, to you. It should make your travels a bit easier. I believe you know the former crew of this ship."

  Yultorot grunted with delight and said, "This is the Grendel Unit vessel, is it not?"

  He extended his hand to Yultorot and said, "Let it be the first of many trophies you acquire in our united fight."

  "With the Human God, all things are possible," Yultorot said.

  He watched the President's security detail file toward his own ship, and saw the stooped-over figure of the Warden standing off to the side. The Warden looked like he'd been trying to get the President's attention, but no one stopped, or even looked in his direction.

  Warden Drexel shook a dirty strand of black hair out of his face, smearing it behind his left ear as he turned to admire Yultorot's new ship. "I see that your allegiance to Unification is serving you well, already."

  Yultorot ran his hand along the Samsara's hull, admiring it, then paused and said, "I hold allegiance to no one but the Lord. I seek no treasures in this life, only in the next."

  Drexel glanced over at him, his thin lips cresting into a sickly looking smile. "Ah, yes, of course, you're right."

  "Tell me, have you heard the good word, brother?" Yultorot said.

  "I've not heard anything good in quite a long while," Drexel sighed. The thrusters beneath the President's ship fired, and it rocketed up through
the atmosphere, leaving nothing but a streak of smoke across the sky.

  Yultorot reached inside a pouch strapped to his chest and removed a small tablet. "Here, take my copy," he said, walking around the General's body. "All of the answers to all of your questions are in here." He stared deep into the Warden's eyes and said, "What a man gives you, he can take away. But even the smallest hovel in God's kingdom is greater than any palace in this life. Or any President who lives in it. Remember that, my brother."

  The Warden looked down at the tablet briefly, then said, "Tell me, why do you all call him the Human God? Shouldn't it just be God? Isn't there just one?"

  Yultorot smiled at the man and said, "You are insightful. The Lord has blessed you with wisdom." He could tell Drexel was pleased with himself. All the man needed was a little encouragement. He was clearly craving it. "There are many things in this universe that are for God alone to know. The wonders of his creation are multitude. But of them all, he alone is ruler. And we alone are his chosen kind. You can do great things, Warden. I sense it within you."

  Drexel leaned forward over the book to say into Yultorot's scarred and mutilated ear, "And how do you know that, exactly?"

  Yultorot placed the tablet against Drexel's chest and said, "Because our God alone has brought us to the edges of existence, and our God alone wants us to claim it in his name. Take that, my brother. It will show you the way. Take your rightful place among the chosen few."

  Yultorot watched the man slink off back toward the prison's closed gate, holding the tablet close to keep anyone else from seeing it. Those who needed the word were easy to spot. The drunkard, the addict, the broken-hearted, the destitute. All were desperately seeking the strength and resilience to continue living. They only needed the right person to show them the awesome truth. For, who could despair knowing that they were the anointed children of the most magnificent being in all of existence?

  No wonder the Sapienists ranks had swollen so.

  Anyone reading the scriptures would immediately see the folly of mankind when it excluded God. They'd allowed the beasts of the galaxy to join them at their dinner tables and marry into their families. They'd elevated animals to the same status as humanity, in direct violation of the highest commandments, and God was punishing them for it. Poverty. Drug infestation. Lawlessness. Corruption. Disease.

  It was their duty, as believers, to restore the natural order. The scripture said that once God was pleased with mankind, he would unseal the divide between paradise and the living world. It was sad to watch his fellow humans struggle to hold on to their meaningless lives, on a meaningless plane. The sooner God blotted out this existence, the better, he figured.

  He entered the ship and looked around, seeing the four seats in the cockpit. There was a small children's toy strapped to the co-pilot's controls, a doll for a little girl. Probably something to remind one of them of their children, Yultorot thought. He powered on the engines and stood for a moment, listening to them rumble with power.

  "My Lord, thank you for blessing me with this vessel," he said aloud. "We are going to do some fine work with this. I swear it. Some very fine work, indeed."

  He went to the communications console and entered the encryption sequence to access his secure network. There was a message for him the moment he logged in, flashing red with urgency.

  "Strange," he said, as he pressed the button to activate the message.

  Someone was waiting for him on the other side of it. A nun's face appeared on his screen, seated at a table in front of several tall marble columns. "Greetings, Brother Yultorot," she said.

  "Greetings to you as well, Sister," he said, not knowing her name.

  "His Holiness would like a word with you."

  "His Holiness…to whom do you refer?" Yultorot said.

  The flat line of her lips did not so much as crease when she said, "Why, the Pontifex, of course."

  "Of…of course, Sister," he said, feeling his voice give way. "It would be my deepest honor to speak with His Holi ˗ "

  She touched the screen and it went dark for a moment. Yultorot closed his eyes and attempted to steady himself. He'd seen the Pontifex only once, on a visit to the Holy City. He'd heard from several Clerics that the Pontifex knew of him, and approved of his efforts, but to receive a personal communication from the head of the Holy Church was unheard of.

  "God, you are truly great," Yultorot whispered as the screen blurred with digital fragments until clarifying to reveal the face of the Pontifex himself. A thin man, dressed all in white, with fine silver hair. He looked small on the screen, his pale skin beset by rosacea that left his nose swollen and cheeks bright red. Yultorot lowered his head and gasped, "Your Holiness. I have no words."

  "You won't need them," the Pontifex said. "After all, perhaps I should be bowing to you. Calling you, His Holiness?"

  Yultorot looked up in confusion, "Forgive me, what, sir?"

  "No, forgive me," the Pontifex said. "I had not realized when I awoke this morning and put on my vestiges of authority as the head of the Sacred Church that I'd been supplanted by one such as you. For, that is the only reason that I should see you at the side of the President of Unification, speaking on our behalf. You must be a very great man. In fact, you must place yourself higher than the Church, itself."

  "I-I-I sent several messages," Yultorot stammered. "I told several clerics I'd been invited and they assured me I had your blessing."

  The Pontifex lifted his head and tilted his neck slightly, "Do I look like a cleric to you, boy?"

  "No, Your Holiness," Yultorot said. "I assure you I meant no offense."

  "Perhaps your time amongst the infidels has swayed your faith."

  "No, of course not!" Yultorot said. "I swear it! I will do anything to prove it."

  "I am the first servant of the Lord, our God!" the Pontifex thundered, leaning forward in his chair far enough that his spittle sprayed the camera lens. "I receive my power from the greatest authority in all creation, and you will not dare speak on behalf of this glorious church unless I specifically command it!" After a few moments, he sat back in his seat, breathing heavily. He nodded at Yultorot and said, "Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, perfectly," Yultorot said.

  "You will make penance for your hubris." The Pontifex looked over Yultorot's scarred face and said, "Have you any skin left that's free of blemish?"

  "Yes, Your Holiness. My thighs. My stomach. My back."

  "Good. You will send me two square inches of unmarred flesh. That should suffice."

  "Thank you," Yultorot whispered.

  "Now, I believe you were dispatched to Pentak 1 to spread the joyous word of our Lord to those…primitives. Is that not correct?"

  "Absolutely, Your Holiness," Yultorot said. "And I will do whatever it takes to make sure the luddites receive Him. I swear it."

  The Pontifex's eyes hardened on the servant, "I expect not to be disappointed again. We have great need of that planet. The Lord has tasked me with turning them toward the light, and I have chosen you. Do you understand that, Yultorot? I have chosen you."

  "I do, Your Holiness," Yultorot said, nodding quickly.

  The Pontifex smiled then, saying, "You are said to have great faith, young man, and have been rewarded with a great amount of trust in return. Now, you must earn it. Do you hear me? Earn it."

  "Yes, Your Holiness. Thank you for your understanding."

  "It is not my understanding," the Pontifex said. "I am merely the vessel for Him." He raised two of his fingers and drew an X across the screen, "May the light of humanity shine forever, in His name, amen."

  "Amen," Yultorot said, but the screen was already black.

  He dove for his toolkit and rifle through it until he found a sharp-enough blade. He considered using a duller one to prove his remorse, but decided the Pontifex would want a better looking piece of skin with fine, smooth edges, than something jagged and torn. He stripped off his shirt and decided on a chunk of skin over his left breas
t that would do.

  On one occasion, Yultorot had heard a drunken cleric remark that the Pontifex had schemed and murdered his way to the top. It was the last thing he'd said before Yultorot choked the treasonous bastard to death. As he touched the tip of the blade to his skin, doubt pecked at his resolve like a hungry bird. He closed his eyes and allowed these thoughts to flow through him freely. The scriptures taught that it is not the blind adherents who receive the greatest fruits of paradise. "Blessed is he who doubts and follows the path, regardless," Yultorot whispered.

  He gasped aloud as he pierced the blade into his skin.

  "Pain purifies me and cleanses me of my sins," he grunted, and started to slice.

  The Pentak System's outer atmosphere was littered with ship wreckage and antique satellites that no longer functioned. Old tech. Built with parts so outdated, not even the junk scowls wanted them. They blinked uselessly in the darkness as they circled around Pentak 1, the system's sole planet, existing on solar-paneled batteries that would not let them die.

  Each of the devices emitted its own frequency, forming an impenetrable wall of static interference for any approaching ship. The navigation panel on the Samsara struggled to untangle the distorted mess, but it was useless.

  Yultorot was unfazed. He reconfigured the instruments to ignore the static, using a computation so precise that any passing ship would have turned around and left rather than attempt it. All of the interference made it impossible to scan the surface of the planet below, or to attempt approaching it without the engines failing, and that was just how the inhabitants intended it.

  Yultorot maneuvered around the sharp spindles of an ancient warship's engine and began his descent toward the surface. His measurements had to be exact as he entered the coordinates of approach. Once the ship was on its trajectory, there would be no recalculating. The light outside his cockpit turned bright as he penetrated the atmosphere and he shielded his eyes from the blue haze.

  The circuit panels on his ship blurred and scrambled, rendering his controls useless. He was prepared for that. He'd already rigged the ship to calibrate for hard descent. Yultorot buckled his safety harness and gripped the sides of his chair, trying to remain calm even as the engines died and he began spiraling down through the sky.