Gods Dogs, Book 3

In a dark place we ourselves are, and a little more knowledge lights our way.

Yoda (Star Wars)

The first wave of torpedoes hit the ships on the flank about the time Quinn’s disc came into contact with the timid ship they were stalking.

The disc captain called them in a panic, pleading for help. River launched her cyber attack across the comm connection, and the crying stopped soon enough.

By now, the takeover of an enemy disc was a practiced routine. The turn-around from takeover to blasting enemy ships was down to eight minutes. Most of that was the time it took for ship positioning and retargeting.

The gunnery officer announced, “Firing now, captain. With the confusion out there, we may get more than a five-cycle firing package.”

“Looks like they got more NEFP torpedoes,” the captain said. “They sure make a mess of things.”

“Cycling,” guns said. “No one seems interested in us yet. Second package ready in two minutes.”

Quinn asked him, “How many packages are prepped?”

The Sentic gunnery officer hacked a raspy laugh. “Twenty. It gives my crew some practice.”

“Carry on,” the captain said.

“Aye, sir. Second salvo firing.”

The enemy response was slower, but after ten firing cycles, they blew the commandeered platform to pieces.

“They missed the command ship,” the sensor tech said after the dust settled. “It appears intact and operational.”

“Do we take it?” the captain asked.

“No,” Quinn said. “River pull it out of the battle and send a request for another boarding party.”

“Message sent,” River said after a few moments. “I pulled the disc below the elliptic. It should be safe there.”

“That freaked out captain might be a good source of intel,” the captain said.

“It’s possible,” Quinn agreed. “You never know with people like that. It’s possible he’s a captain because of family connections and he knows a lot, or he’s a younger son of a powerful family and knows nothing. Or he was a child prodigy in their academy but couldn’t hold it together when faced with real combat.”

“It is something we don’t know until we are in combat,” Roquemon said with some feeling.

“True, captain, but it is also something that is a variable. Today a man may be brave. Tomorrow he might not.”

“Is that true of Coyotes as well?”

“No. Not really. We consider ourselves already dead. So facing death doesn’t mean the same for us as it does to normal people.”

Roquemon struggled to understand what Quinn was saying – actually, what the meaning of what he was saying.

River showed him some mercy and explained, “There is a place you get to in your spiritual development where aiding, healing, and protecting others becomes the most important thing you can do.”

“Yes. I can see that as an endpoint for spiritual development,” Roquemon said.

River groaned and told him, “It’s not an endpoint, sir. It’s a waypoint, a consequence of one’s heart opening. It’s not, really, a goal at all. It’s just what happens as a result of spiritual development.”

“Sorry, River,” the captain said with a sigh. “I’m not skilled at discussing esoteric topics.”

“It’s not even esoteric, sir. It’s a natural progression in sentient development. At some point, you give a shit about others, regardless of species, or race, or religion, or any differences you can name.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. I know that place.”

River looked around the half-filled circular room. Quinn was grinning, enjoying the predicament River got herself into. The rest of them were waiting in expectation for what she might say next.

“Damn,” she said. Then she took a breath and continued, “Imagine that a simple compassion for others can grow into an all-consuming passion. I don’t mean it’s emotionally driven. It’s not. It’s a rock-solid commitment. It’s a cold-blooded oath of fealty. It’s the ground we are grounded in, captain. We would all die to protect you without a whimper, and without a second thought.”

“Why?” the gunnery officer asked with some surprise. “You don’t know us. We’re different species. Why should you care?”

Quinn answered, letting River off the hook, “You are a child of the Creator. You are children of God, just like me. We have chosen to protect them all. It is our reason to exist. It is the purpose of our lives.”

The captain leaned back in his chair. “Quinn, River, I don’t know how to process what you have told us. It feels like you have revealed some kind of sacred truth, and you had no reason to do so. What I do know is you have included us in the defense of the galaxy. You led us, even though you let us retain our nominal leadership roles. We will be heroes when this is over, and you will retreat to obscurity. It’s the Coyote way. My uncle, Ikel, told me so. Please accept our gratitude for including us on this grand adventure, and for treating us with a reverence and dignity we surely don’t deserve.”

Roquemon stood and exited the bridge. The others clapped or stomped an affirmation of their captain’s words.

Quinn waited for the captain to leave before saying, “I know his uncle, Commander Ikel. He’s a good and honorable man. So is your captain. We’ll be gone when this is over. You will have each other. Treasure those bonds you’ve forged among yourselves. It makes you better people, and it’s a comfort in trying times.”

“Aye, Quinn,” the gunnery officer said. “Now what?”

“Find us another lonely disc to commandeer. This war isn’t over yet.”

“Aye, aye, Quinn,” he returned with gusto.

In fact, the battle was almost over. Before Quinn’s disc could find its next victim, the second bomber attack with the NEFP torpedoes struck each flank. Each flank began rolling up, collapsing inward. The resulting disruption to the line of battle caused the advance to falter. The carriers squeezed in from the sides, and the fighters worried the confused formation with relentless attacks the enemy couldn’t adequately defend against. The stealth system was once again proving decisive as the enemy formation collapsed.

Eventually, the enemy tried to contact the Congress fleet admiral, but he refused the call. Individual ships struck their colors by locking down their weapons and turning on their running lights. The chatter on the enemy comm bands was a combination of pleas for surrender countered by orders to hold the line.

Soon, individual ships, and then squadrons, reversed course and sought escape. Their rear was open, as the carriers no longer held that position. The Congress forces let those who sought escape flee the battle space.

Admiral Raymond Schultz told his flag staff, “Always leave your enemy an escape route. It’s an ancient human axiom of battle.”

“But what now?” the tactical officer wanted to know.

“Use the cutters to drop off boarding parties to the ships that have struck their colors. For the rest, pound them into submission.”

The Dobal, in the middle of the formation, turned to run. The Baston, on the right wing where Jolene’s disc was operating, either ran or surrendered. The Chert, where Quinn was, tried to fight on. Yet half that force either ran or surrendered. The other half sought refuge in dying with honor.

The Congress fleet accommodated that wish and blew them to space dust. It took another ten hours to accomplish it, and Quinn’s ship became the interface between the surrendering ships and the boarding parties. They took over a surrendering ship’s NSAI before the boarding parties entered. Once the transfer of authority was complete, Quinn moved to the next surrendering ship.

As the action quieted, Quinn’s team, along with Gunny Murphy’s platoon, caught a ride back to their carrier. Captain Roquemon saw them off with a simple salute.

Master Chin met the cutter as it landed. He hustled the group to a large conference room a few decks up from the landing bay. Once they were seated, Chin began, “It was a close run thing. We didn’t have any more torpedoes. They lost their nerve, and we won.”

Quinn replied, “We’re not out of the woods, are we?”

“No,” Chin said with a sigh. “We’ll celebrate this victory, mourn our losses, and resume negotiations. How the three empires spin this, we can’t guess yet. In my view, they won’t change their worldview due to one defeat. We need a different kind of leverage for that. Defeated enemies remain enemies. We need a way to create allies.”

“How do we do that?” Moss asked.

“No idea,” Chin said with a chuckle. “You’ll return to Penglai. All the surviving Coyotes will return to Penglai. We have our own losses to mourn. Then we will brainstorm this problem: How do we encourage the three empires to become allies?”

“What about us?” Murphy asked.

“You’re TDY to the Coyotes, gunny,” Chin said. “You’ll help in the brainstorming.”

“Well, thanks, and all that, Chin,” Murphy retorted, “but we’re trigger-pullers. Policy is way above my pay grade.”

His marines nodded their agreement.

Chin answered with a challenge, “How often have Coyotes pulled your fat out of the fire?”

Murphy squirmed before answering, “A few times. Well, quite a few times.”

“And those operations were, shall we say, unconventional.”

“True enough.”

“And you not only went along with it, you and your men did so with a certain enthusiasm.”

“Well, yeah. I suppose you could say that.”

“Not only because you trusted the Coyotes, but also because you could see the logic of the play they proposed.”

“Okay.”

Chin smiled. “You have a strategic mind, Murphy. You know a good strategy when you see it, even if it’s unconventional. Not everybody has that combination of experience and the ability to think outside the box. You will be our reality check.”

“Not the only one, I hope,” was Murphy’s lame rejoinder.

River threw an arm around Murphy’s shoulders and said, “It will be fun, gunny.”

“Yeah, some fun,” he pouted. Then turning to his troops he snarled, “Ramirez, wipe that smile off your face.”

Master Chin stood to finish. “You’ll leave for Penglai in the morning. Satya is your ride home.”

Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. Satya survived. He was glad for that. As yet, he hadn’t let himself think about their losses. AV-1 was gone, but AV-2 and Jolene’s team was accounted for. Still, the losses would be horrific. He clamped down on those thoughts as Pax placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “There will be time for that, Quinn.”

“I’m not looking forward to it.”

“No sane man does.”

The trip back to Penglai, through stargates and under FTL, took weeks. Even so, they were one of the first to arrive at the monastery. Acolytes met them at the landing pad and helped them get settled into the Coyote compound. They also led the marines to nearby housing and helped them settle in.

Over the course of the next week, Coyote teams arrived. They now numbered two hundred and thirty-seven teams. Less than a thousand Coyotes remained after the battle.

All of Penglai was in mourning, and when the names were made available of not only Coyotes, but also the Penglai citizens who were marines or spacers that were lost, the generalized mourning took on a specific quality. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, wives, husbands, and children lost someone dear to them. And their extended families and friends were also gravely affected.

The temples and monasteries held round-the-clock vigils. Monks and nuns were available at all hours. The psychological association organized and offered grief counseling in all the communities. Priests, rabbis, and mullahs from other religious denominations on Penglai held their own ceremonies.

Sundown drumming circles became a daily ritual. Support groups sprang us in private homes. And the Tibetan rituals for the dead were recited in all the Buddhist homes and chapels, including the Coyote compound.

A few weeks later, Admiral Raymond Schultz visited Penglai. He addressed the entire world in a broadcast few missed. He stood at a simple podium, with the elected leaders of Penglai seated behind him.

“I am Admiral Raymond Schultz,” he began. His square face, etched in lines that gave him the serious demeanor of a combat veteran, housed gentle brown eyes that communicated his sorrow.

“Penglai has paid the highest price, per capita, than any world in the League or the Congress for our victory over the three empires from Andromeda that sought to annex our galaxy.”

He paused to noticeably let the feelings from that statement wash through him. Then he continued, “It is a slim consolation for you to know of their heroism. They are, after all, gone from you, and the why of that tragedy does not lessen the pain. It is, however, my duty as the one who committed them to battle, that put them in harm’s way, to acknowledge their deeds. It is for me to rise above my own grief and celebrate the nature of their sacrifice. It is my duty to honor them.”

He paused again to gather himself before continuing, “I have researched every letter of condolence I have written. Those of you who have received my letter, know that I spoke the truth about your loved one’s death. In virtually all instances, they died, surrounded by their comrades-in-arms, defending our way of life. No son or daughter of Penglai fled the field, or cowered in fear, or in any way shirked their duty or betrayed their friends. They all died a hero’s death, and we are all lessened by their absence.”

He paused again and wiped his eyes. Then he continued, “Penglai is noted for its Coyote teams, and rightly so. I fought with them in the war with the Empire of Man, and their contribution in this latest battle at the edge of the galaxy was decisive. We won because of the Coyotes’ ability to turn adversity into advantage. We won because Penglai’s best would not accept defeat. Coyote losses, though, were substantial.”

Again he paused. The Penglai officials behind him, by this time, were unabashedly crying. The admiral went on, “It is the policy of Penglai Foreign Service to refuse individual awards for Coyote heroism under fire. I have conferred with Penglai Foreign Service, and they have agreed to accept a unit citation for bravery under fire for not only the Coyotes whom we lost, but every Penglai-born marine, spacer, or contractor that died in this terrible battle. I know this citation will not lessen your grief. But in the weeks and years to come, I hope you feel pride in your fallen sons and daughters, your fallen heroes – I hope it brings you pride in who they were and what they stood for.”

The admiral stepped back and saluted. “Penglai, you have my deepest gratitude, my unrelenting respect, and my heartfelt condolences for you losses.”

He completed the salute and turned to the embraces of the Penglai leaders.