Gods Dogs, Book 3

How do you listen? Do you listen with your projections, through your projections, through your ambitions, desires, fears, anxieties, through hearing only what you want to hear, only what will be satisfactory, what will gratify, what will give comfort, what will for the moment alleviate your suffering?

Krishnamurti

Quinn’s Coyote team was in residence at Shentong Temple. They were in the wing of that massive monastery complex known locally as Coyote central. The routine while there was a sedate but full day of training six days a week.

Their team training now included a supernumerary. Jian had completed her formal education as a Coyote candidate and was assigned a team for her final year. She first met the team during boot camp. Then the team served as guest instructors during her third year. It was a natural extension that she, or one of the other three of her class that knew the team, would be assigned to them as a supernumerary. Jian was a wiry, strong Asian young woman that was much too serious about getting everything right. She modified that during training but when it kicked in, her determined scowl warped her naturally pretty face and darkened her brown eyes to smoldering coals.

She felt comfortable with the team but also intimidated at the same time. They accepted her as their equal, and expected her to perform close to their level – which, for the most part, she could, but the expectation gnawed at her confidence.

She joined them for the OpFor exercises that lasted a couple of months. Now, in resident training, the pace and expectations were slower and less demanding. It was giving her a chance to catch her breath and begin to sort out her feelings.

In service of that, she asked for River to talk with her in the walking garden outside the main Coyote complex. It was after lunch, and the sun was high in a blue sky. The summer heat forced the insects and animals into a somnolent lethargy. The lazy buzzing of bees accompanied them through the garden.

“I’m embarrassed to even bring this up,” Jian began. “To be blunt, I am falling in love with Pax.”

River suppressed a laugh and replied, “Well, he does have certain qualities that are loveable.”

Jian’s brow scrunched into seriousness. “I thought I was more emotionally mature than this.”

River took a breath and let it out. “What are you projecting?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. How do you understand projection?”

“We unconsciously give to others what we can’t own about ourselves.”

“Textbook perfect.” River smiled. “And we will project both our good qualities as well as the bad.”

“I’m projecting good qualities and falling in love with myself through him.”

“It looks like. Probably because he has owned and developed those qualities.”

“What are they?”

“I don’t know, but you could ask him.”

“That would be too embarrassing.”

“I know,” River said and stopped to admire a blooming flower. “Hero worship is something we all deal with. We do it, and others do it to us. Pax knows how to invite you to reclaim what you’ve projected onto him.”

Jian’s face brightened. “Just like you did for Nina and me when we were third years.”

“Yes. What you projected onto me told me what you would be good at. Nina projected sneaky stealth. You projected hacking ability. I pushed each of you in those directions.”

“But this is different.”

“It’s a different quality – something more emotionally based. Empathy, probably.”

“I can see that. I feel so safe around him.”

“Maybe that’s it. Maybe you have the ability to make people feel safe.”

Jian started to protest but caught herself. Then she smiled ruefully. “I sure didn’t want to own that.”

River chuckled. “Talk to Pax.”

“Yeah,” Jian agreed with a smirk.

It took a couple of days to set up a meet with Pax. It was in a training room after morning meditation and before breakfast.

The others filed out of the hardwood-floored room, and Pax and Jian sat cross-legged facing each other in the subdued lighting.

“I’ve got myself emotionally tangled up in you,” Jian told him. “River thinks I’m projecting my undeveloped ability to make people feel safe.”

Pax nodded and said, “That happens to empaths rather frequently.”

“I didn’t think of it from that angle,” Jian replied.

“Maybe you’re projecting your own ability to be an empath.”

“That training is by invitation only,” she demurred.

“Who do you think makes the recommendations?”

She laughed at that but went on to say, “I am good at reading energy.”

“That’s the obvious requirement. What about keeping emotional boundaries?”

“Well, the reason we’re talking is because I know I am confused about my boundary with you.”

“Okay. So now that you’re considering empath training, has that confusion lessened?”

She lowered her eyes to check her internal condition. Things seemed settled there. Mind was clear. Emotions were back to the ‘clear lake with no ripples’ metaphor for the undisturbed mind. Her body wasn’t carrying any residual tension.

“I’m okay,” she reported.

“Good,” Pax said and stood. “I’ll recommend you for the training.” Then he smiled. “Catching your projections is one of the hardest tasks in emotional development. Good job.”

“Thanks,” she said as she stood. “I thought this would be more embarrassing.”

Pax chuckled. “Just wait. You’ll be embarrassed plenty during training.”

“Great,” she drawled.

They hurried toward the cafeteria to get what breakfast they could before the serving line shut down.

The morning progressed with Form training and simulated combat training. Then lunch was served. In the afternoon, the resident teams trained at the outdoor shooting ranges. Then dinner was served. After that, they socialized until lights out at 2200.

Nina wasn’t in residence, but Jian found other supernumeraries to chat with. She was a fairly out-going young woman, quick to laughter but also quick to becoming too serious. It was the one part of her make-up she struggled with.

As she engaged in relaxed conversation with her peers, she realized this serious streak was a double-edged sword. It alerted her to the problem with Pax, but it was also part of the cause. She took her response to her projection too seriously.

She smiled to herself and decided to make that her focus in meditation tomorrow morning.

The next day, after the morning meditation and breakfast, the team reported to Master Lu’s office. It was on the second floor of a different wing of Coyote central. A spacious but sparsely decorated room, it sported an alcove with a bay window framing the nearby mountains.

Master Lu, a stocky elder of Asian descent, looked up from his desk as the five Coyotes entered. Quinn’s square, tanned face was relaxed. Moss’ boyish charm was intact. Pax’s cool reserve showed traces of ill-concealed humor. River walked with a secure, unself-conscious confidence. Their supernumerary, Jian, was as graceful as a cat.

Lu rose and gestured to the alcove on his left and said, “Good to see you all.”

They reciprocated as they sat and waited for Lu to begin.

“Believe it or not, you’re going pirate hunting.”

Moss scoffed, “Okay. I don’t believe it. Other than the mercenary world in Congress space that was supported by that ten-world consortium, nobody has been able to make the pirate life work for three hundred years.”

“None of them had corporate backing,” Lu retorted with a smile. “It’s an interesting business model. Siphon off various goods. Consolidate these goods at a space station. Then fill orders by using regular freighters.”

Quinn observed, “They must have a huge organization just for the pilfering part of that scheme.”

“Apparently so, and they only target the big manufacturing companies who won’t bother too much with petty theft. In the aggregate, though, it did come to their attention. The marshals got involved, and the investigation led to the location of the space station.”

Moss interjected, “The navy can’t go there for some reason.”

Lu nodded. “Two reasons. First, it’s in Reebok Consortium space. That alliance of five star systems hasn’t agreed to League protection and refuses naval access. Second, the intelligence is that the space station has a self-destruct system.”

Pax said, “The sponsors are insuring anonymity.”

“It appears so,” Lu agreed. “The marshals aren’t having any luck figuring out who is behind the operation.”

“What is our mission?” Quinn asked.

“Sneak aboard. Disable the self-destruct. Download their files. And then bring the marines in to take over the station.”

“What’s the catch?” Moss asked.

Lu showed a slight smile. “You only get a hundred marines, and there are three to five hundred security on the station. Add to that another couple of thousand workers, visiting small cargo haulers and regular freighters, and you have an interesting tactical problem.”

“How big a station,” River wanted to know, “and what style?”

“An old-style Stanford torus, two kilometers in diameter, with rotational gravity.”

River frowned and said, “Those can hold 10,000 people.”

“True,” Lu shrugged, “but we don’t think there are that many onboard. The thinking is that it’s mainly warehouse space and the workers and support personnel for dealing with the merchandise.”

“And security,” Moss added.

“Yes,” Lu grunted. “You’ll travel aboard Satya. The marines will have their own transport. I asked for Gunny Murphy, since you’ve worked with him before. You’ll meet up with their command team at our military space station this afternoon.”

Lu handed a data cube to Quinn. “Here are your orders and all the information I have.”

The team rose and left the office.

They shuttled up to the station that afternoon. The League and Penglai, specifically the navy, the planetary militia, and the Foreign Service jointly ran it.

It was a smaller, spindle-shaped station with artificial gravity and decks set perpendicular to a main core or spindle. It, too, could house upwards of 10,000 people but in greater comfort than a Stanford torus.

They arrived, not at the station landing bay, but in Satya’s shuttle bay. The cutter was virtually a second home to the team, and the crew greeted them warmly.

Once they stowed their gear, they exited the docked ship to locate the meeting room with the League command staff.

The interior of the station was a U-shaped outer corridor with viewports space-side as well as docking connections. Bracketing each docking site were massive pressure doors, now retracted. On the station-side were smaller pressure doors to the station proper.

They found their way to the conference room. Inside were Gunny Murphy, who nodded to them, a solid-looking lieutenant, and a naval lt. commander. She was bullet-shaped with close-cropped blonde hair and a gaze that said not much impressed her. The lieutenant was built like a marine and his tanned face was clean-shaven and stern.

“Quinn, team lead,” Quinn announced as he approached the three.

“Lt. James Fowler.”

“Lt. Commander Joan Ridley.”

“Hi, gunny,” Moss offered.

“Moss,” Murphy replied with a nod and looked at Jian. “You got a Coyote pup with you?”

“That we do,” Moss grinned. “Her name is Jian.”

“Good to meet you, ma’am,” Murphy said.

“Let’s get started,” Ridley interrupted and took a seat. Then she punched up the table-mounted holo-display and began her briefing.

“The station is in an asteroid field five AUs from the primary, which is a red dwarf. The initial League survey on the solar system says it’s uninhabited but mining was possible. Local intelligence claims the space station was part of a mining endeavor that went bankrupt, and the station was abandoned.

“The Reebok Consortium claims this system, but we don’t know their plans for it. We do know their navy visits it on a random schedule – usually a destroyer and two frigates. We can hide our pair of frigates in the asteroid field until you signal us.”

“Did you bring those two-man assault vehicles?” Quinn asked.

“Standard equipment,” Ridley said.

“Getting the marines aboard is the weak link in this op,” Quinn explained. “If we can do a covert entry and take the critical stations, that would be best, and the enemy numbers will matter less.”

“How do you plan to accomplish it?” Ridley challenged.

“No idea,” Quinn said with a sigh. “We’ll figure it out when we get aboard.”

Lt. Fowler put in, “We have schematics for this type of station, but who knows how it’s been modified.”

“If it’s mainly warehouse space,” Quinn opined, “as the intel suggests, we should find an entry point. I would prefer multiple entry points so we can get to the critical stations quicker.”

Pax asked, “Do you know anything about the security force?”

“No,” the LT answered. “We don’t think they are elite mercs, as there’s been no personnel movement with them, but that’s all we can confirm.”

Quinn looked at Ridley. “You will slow-coast to get into position. Right?”

She nodded. “It will take a few days.”

“Okay. We’ll go in under stealth, get inside, and contact you through Satya about three days after we hit the system.”

Then Quinn looked at Murphy. “Did you pick the troops?”

“Yep.” Murphy half-grinned back.

Quinn chuckled. “Should be like old times then.”

“I hope not,” Murphy replied with a frown.