Gods Dogs, Book 3

In the very end, civilizations perish because they listen to their politicians and not to their poets.

Jonas Mekas

The more expansive debrief was at Coyote central. Senior Marshal McIntire released all three teams after the raids on Rhodlast. After a four-week trip, they arrived at Penglai.

The debrief was more in-depth for Quinn’s team, along with Jian and Nina, as they were the ones that engaged in significant action. From the helmet-cam footage and the interviews, the senior staff developed or refined tactics. The technicians wrote new scenarios for the simulators. The empaths drained the combatants of all left-over emotion.

The process wasn’t as grueling as it sounded, though, and the six Coyotes ended the three-day ordeal remarkably refreshed.

When it was over, they met up with the others for dinner at the monastery's cafeteria. A few other Coyote teams were in residence as well, and they joined the three teams. The story-telling began.

C-Sharp, from Gautama’s team, proclaimed with brusque efficiency, “Yo, newbies, you got stories to tell. Let’s get to it.”

Jian looked at Nina, who smirked, “You’re the one who charged an entrenched position. You go first.”

They settled at a long table with their food trays and drinks. Jian began, and hoots from her comrades followed.

The next day, Pax met with Master Lu and began the process to retire. There was the necessary paperwork, a number of exit interviews, and a battery of psychological tests that followed.

It lasted two weeks, but finally Pax took his few belongings to his new home in the empath wing of Coyote central.

There wasn’t much in the way of a farewell ceremony. He ate dinner with his team one last time, received hugs from others, or a slap on the back, and moved onto the next chapter in his life.

Moss handled it. Even though he proclaimed a difficulty with adjusting to this loss, he adjusted to it. River figured his claim was part of his adjustment process.

She wondered who Pax recommended as his replacement. Empaths could do that, of course, and those recommendations were usually followed. She hoped for Jian, but that would cause disruption to two teams. She didn’t think the masters would do that.

A few days later, Master Lu called the three of them to his office. Waiting with Lu was Joseph — one of the recruits Moss tutored who was in the same class as Jian and Nina, whom River tutored.

Joseph was a black young man who grew up on a ranch in the Kwan Yin district of Penglai. The ranch raised horses, llamas and alpacas. The llamas grazed the marginal pasturelands in the diversified farming cooperative his family was a part of. His duties as a child was to care for the llamas and alpacas, since they were gentle and easy to train animals. He helped for the yearly shearing of their long fur, the yearly foaling of the young, called crias, and the initial training for the new group of llamas. As a teen, he moved into working with horses, which were more difficult to train and work with.

His family was mother and father, and two younger siblings, a brother and sister. He did well in compulsory primary and secondary education, both academically and in sports. He threw his name into the hat for Coyote Boot Camp mostly on a dare from a girl. He hadn’t gotten around to thanking her yet, but it was one item on his to-do list.

Joseph was a serious young man with a ribald sense of humor. Quinn recognized it as it reminded him of his revered great-grandmother. The black culture nurtured a sense of humor that was rich and varied, but also expressive and loud.

He also opted for empath training on a whim, although he was encouraged to do so by his instructors. He found the training tapped into a deeper layer of his spiritual depths. In essence, a whole new world opened for him.

The study of emotions, their chemistry, their impact on cognition, their energy, and how they resolved into unique signatures defining a person as well as fingerprints could was, for him, compelling and fascinating. When the course was over, he went back as a supernumerary to an established team and worked with the team empath to learn the operational value an empath brought to each operation.

By now, he was a seasoned Coyote team member with his blood stripe, and he looked forward to a permanent assignment. That it would be with Moss and the team he knew from boot camp was a singular treat.

“Joseph,” Moss called out as he entered Master Lu’s office.

Joseph grinned and received the hug from Moss, Quinn, and River.

“Are you our new empath?” River asked him.

Joseph turned to Lu who smiled and said, “It is our recommendation, yes. Joseph agreed. Now it’s your turn to agree or refuse.”

River chuckled. Moss smirked. Quinn said, “We agree.”

“Good,” Lu said. “You’re going out on an easy mission to get acquainted. It’s a security detail for League senators on a fact-finding mission to the border planets between the old League boundary and the Empire of Man. They will be assessing the lessening of tension among the various worlds in that region.”

“What if the tension isn’t lessened?” Moss asked.

“That’s why you’re going along,” Lu answered. He tossed Quinn the data cube. “Satya will transport you to Central. You’ll be aboard a League destroyer.”

Quinn nodded and led the team out of the room. Once outside, Moss said, “Well, grab your stuff, Joseph. We’re in the blue corridor. You can have Pax’s old room.”

The next day, they left for Central. It was a five-day trip. Once there, they disembarked and met with a squad of station marines. The marines escorted them to the destroyer that was carting the senators around. Moss and Joseph were pulling along the large cases that contained their mobile armory. The master-at-arms took the cases to the ship’s armory and signed them in.

The team was billeted with the marine contingent and never met with the senators when the ship headed out the following day. It was rude but not troubling or suspicious. Some senators didn’t like what the Coyote program represented: an extra-legal, vigilante organization that supported the League Charter while not necessarily adhering to it.

Quinn figured that these senators wouldn’t like anything that was beyond the reach of their control. Adding to that irritation, politicians, in general, made a living off magical thinking: the illusion of control, forcing outcomes, trickle-down economics, money backed by GDP, and so on. Many senators professed the belief that peace was a function of extending peace through respecting differences and making allowances for mistakes. In Quinn’s view, that was a dangerous example of magical thinking.

Marine country was a self-contained series of compartments forward of the engineering spaces on the destroyer. In all cases, entrance to marine country was by invitation. The Coyotes were welcome, but even the marines were uncomfortable with the implied snub.

At dinner in their mess, the gunnery sergeant for the platoon sat with the team and made his views known.

“Gunny Swain,” he said as he sat. “May I join you?”

“Of course. I’m Moss. These are River, Joseph, and Quinn, our team lead.”

Swain settled and said, “You know it’s not right that they stuck you down here. We know it’s not right. The captain and the XO know it’s not right, and I think they will fix this once we’re in hyper.”

“We don’t mind,” Quinn said.

Moss snickered and added, “What are we missing out on? Eating dinner in dress uniforms and making nice with people that don’t like us? They did us a favor.”

Swain grinned. “My boys and girls are hoping you’ll play with them.”

“We’ve got some new simulations,” Quinn offered. "It includes fighting with cyborgs."

“Or,” Moss added, “we could just beat the crap out of them.”

Swain chuckled. “Both would be appreciated. What do you know about this mission?”

“Close escort,” Quinn replied.

“Yeah, that’s the official story, but these senators are out to prove other senators wrong about the integration policy for former empire worlds.”

“What’s wrong with the policy?” River asked as she toyed with her mashed potatoes.

“Nothing,” Swain said. “The senators we are escorting, though, think it’s too harsh, too demeaning, or something.”

“They have a path to full League membership,” River responded. “It’s not harsh. It’s reasonable.”

“These senators think we can dispense with that and things would be fine.”

“Because?” Moss prompted.

“Treat people good, and they respond in kind.”

Moss snorted. “The empire thugs would see it as weakness and start pushing to see how much they could get.”

“I know. You know. The majority of senators know. This minority caucus, though, thinks differently.”

Joseph spoke up, “They want to grant favors to those worlds to gain advantages.”

Swain nodded as he slurped down some spaghetti.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Quinn said. “Granting favors to autocrats is a good way to get run over.”

During the night, the ship and its supporting vessels hit the hyper-limit and transitioned to hyperspace. The following morning, the ship’s XO, a matronly woman with strong facial features and short blonde hair, asked permission to enter marine country.

She strode into the mess area, and Swain gave her a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, gunny. Would you introduce me to the Coyotes, please?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Swain led her to the table where the team was at breakfast and said, “Quinn, Moss, Joseph, River, this is Lieutenant Commander Jan Liddell.”

The team stood and responded with, “Good to meet you, ma’am.”

Quinn offered, “Would you like to join us?”

“Thank you, I will. You are dismissed, gunny.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Swain said and withdrew.

The commander sat and began, “We do have a problem. Protocol is that you are eligible for flag accommodations and honors. This caucus of senators, however, wants you out of sight. How do you propose to solve this protocol breach?”

“Truth be told,” Moss answered, “we’re more comfortable here.”

Quinn went on, “The problem will come if they try to deny our involvement when they meet with the leadership of the former empire worlds.”

Liddell grimaced. “They already let us know you won’t be welcome.”

“Unwelcome or not, our job is their protection,” Quinn said. “They do not have the authority to countermand our orders.”

“We told them that. They burned up the airwaves with calls to god-knows-who, and now they are sulking.”

River smiled. “Then we would really prefer to stay in marine country.”

Liddell’s face twitched into an uncertain smile. Then she said, “The best we could offer them is that you would travel to the ground in separate shuttles.”

“That’s fine,” Quinn replied. “As long as we get there ahead of them to coordinate with ground security.”

“That was our thinking as well. So it’s settled. You can abuse my marines, and we can entertain our esteemed guests. What happens on the ground is your affair.”

Quinn smiled. “We won’t abuse them too badly, ma’am. We might need them to come rescue us.”

Liddell chuffed a laugh and stood. “I doubt that. I worked with Coyotes in the war, Quinn. So did the captain. We were shocked and embarrassed by the senators’ request to billet you here. We’ve lodged a complaint with Fleet.”

Quinn stood and offered a simple bow of his head. “Thanks for that, commander. We’re adaptable. We’ll make it work.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. Carry on,” she smiled and left.

When Quinn sat down, Joseph said, “There’s a lot going on here — currents, counter-currents, cross-currents.”

Moss chuckled. “You noticed. Politics can be a twisted river of emotions. Just wait until we are on the ground. It will be worse.”

River added, “Stay in Observer Self and wait for our signal. When it happens, it happens fast.”

“When what happens?”

Moss laughed. “We can’t predict exactly what will happen, but it will be obvious.”