Gods Dogs, Book 3

Once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm is all about.

Haruki Nurakami

Jian stayed where she was, her rifle at a low ready, when the marines showed up to process the enemy troops.

A short while later, Gunny Murphy approached her, making sure he was clearly in her line of sight. “Coyote Jian, you can come with me. We’ve got it now. The LT put the Coyotes on stand-down.”

Jian snapped back to herself somewhat and said, “Of course.”

She followed Murphy to a quiet room. A tall marine was there.

“This is Chaplain Benson, Jian,” Murphy introduced her. “You can chat with him while we sort things out. The rest of your team will be here shortly.”

Jian placed her rifle across her knees as she sat in a chair facing the chaplain.

“I hear this was your first battle,” the chaplain said. His voice was a velvet baritone, a comforting sound that indicated he knew what she had been through.

Jian simply nodded.

“Gunny tells me you killed around thirty enemy combatants.”

She nodded again. That seemed about right. She was glad when it stopped.

The chaplain went on, “You are still in shock, Jian. It’s normal. We brought you here so you could decompress.”

Her eyes widened. “So that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Benson smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It just takes a while for your system to downshift to normal operations.”

“I know that,” she said, as if reminding herself of this truth. Then she said, “Well, I know about it. My instructors said I would get acclimated to the high stress environment, but it would take time.”

“The first time is the big shock,” Benson agreed. “And what you went through was especially intense. It wasn’t your average first combat experience.”

“My team?” she prompted with concern on her face.

“They’re fine. We now own this level and their arsenal of weapons. The plan is to drop the pressure doors in the two levels we don’t own and evacuate the air.”

“Good idea. So this was where their gear and weapons were.”

Benson nodded and said, “Lieutenant Fowler has asked the Coyotes to stand down. Your team is on its way here.”

“Why would we stand down?”

Moss answered as he and the others entered the room, “The marines can finish this op without our help.”

Jian smiled uncertainly. “Are we done here?”

“No,” Quinn answered, “we’re on a break.”

Then he turned to the chaplain. “Thank you, sir.”

Benson nodded and left the room.

Pax approached Jian and put a hand on her shoulder. “Do a releasing breath. And again. And again. Release the energy in your body and let it flow out of you.”

She did, breathing deep abdominal breaths, and her body began to shake. Tears tracked their way down her cheeks, an overflowing rather than crying.

“Keep breathing. Double the count on the exhale.”

The shaking increased, but she breathed her way through it, and slowly the shaking lessened. Then she snapped all the way back to herself.

She smiled a bit. “That was intense.”

The others chuckled.

“It’s like it all happened to someone else.”

“Yes,” Pax murmured. “You became someone else.”

“They talk about this in training, but they say the real thing can’t be put into words.”

“Now you know why,” Pax said.

She looked up at him. “What did I become? It felt like I was channeling Shiva the Destroyer.”

Pax half-grinned back. “You became a Coyote.”

“If you’re up to it,” Quinn said, “there is the bardo ritual to go through.”

“Yes, of course,” she answered, now feeling self-conscious.

“We’ll head back to our quarters, get cleaned up, and do so,” Quinn said and turned to go.

River fell in beside Jian as they marched down the corridor. She didn’t say anything, but her presence was a comfort.

In the end, they retrieved the explosives they planted and didn’t need to use. The ship Pax rigged to explode did explode as someone tried to escape aboard it. The remaining guards surrendered rather than suffocating. The League navy sent a couple of troop transport ships to handle both the workers and the guards. Two destroyers accompanied the transports. One would return with the transports to a station where the passengers would be processed. The other destroyer stayed as a guard for the pirate station.

The random patrol of Reebok warships finally arrived. The destroyer with a frigate escort left in a hurry when the new status of the station was known. After that, no more freighters or cargo haulers showed up. Until then, about a six-day period, ships arrived at the pirate station thinking it was business as usual. Those ships were taken as prizes and sent back to League space with prize crews and marines. That boosted morale as the navy and marines would share in the prize money.

The marshals sifted through the data dump from Satya and acted quickly to dismantle the pirate organization and its sponsor corporation. The entire operation was deemed a resounding success, and the Coyotes headed home.

For Jian, the bardo ritual, which was also a first for her, was particularly significant. She participated in the normal prayers for the dead that helped a soul traverse the bardos, but the Coyote ritual was different. They entered the bardos, called in all those they killed in combat, and guided them through the bardos as far as they were allowed.

Jian knew the theory, Tibetan Buddhist in origin, that when the body died, the soul traversed the bardos until it too dissolved, which left the spirit. The spirit, carrying the karma, learned lessons, spiritual maturity, and so on, but lacking any ego-individuality, was what reincarnated in a new soul and body.

The group meditation that got them into the bardos was a simple one. Quinn led it, and when they arrived, they sent out a focused intention for all those they killed in battle to assemble with the team.

The souls did so because the newly freed soul was disoriented and easily affected by the strong intentions of the living. Jian was somewhat surprised by the number of souls that showed up – close to two hundred, or so it seemed.

Quinn, then, called out to them similar instructions that she recognized from the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Then the team herded the group forward through as many bardo states as they could.

Jian knew the psychological reason they did this: it prevented the debilitating effects or symptoms of post-traumatic stress, such as nightmares or flashbacks. She could now understand, at an experiential level, why that was so. Her heart opened to these confused souls, but they would live again. The flooding compassion washed away the horrors of combat.

Gunny Murphy visited them the next day. Rested, fed, and relieved of the operational tempo that kept them on edge, the team was in a more relaxed state when Murphy clanged through the hatch of their warehouse base.

“Hey, gunny,” Moss greeted the suited marine.

“Moss,” he acknowledged. “Quinn, I’ve got your release orders.”

“Thanks, Murphy,” Quinn answered from the couch he was sharing with Pax. “What was the butcher’s bill for you guys?”

“Mostly wounded. A couple might not make it, but we’re hoping.”

Jian was surprised. “How is that possible?”

“Superior shields, but truth be known, it was you guys setting up the battle space and your intervention at the end.”

Jian considered his response and saw the truth of it and slowly nodded her head.

Moss added, “You picked a good group, Murphy. They held when they needed to, stayed cool, and let the strategy work itself out.”

“Yeah. There was that, but you guys tipped the balance. I figure some new Coyote legends will come from this.”

Moss laughed. “We’ll hardly be mentioned in the official report.”

“Just the way you like it,” Murphy smiled a crooked smile.

“We can’t let ourselves get a big head,” Moss declared.

“Too late for that, Moss. Still, I wish there was a way we could reward you. My guys would appreciate the chance to say thank you.”

Quinn said, “We understand the morale factor, Murphy. We’ll visit command before we board Satya. That will give your troops the opportunity to see us off.”

Murphy grunted. “I figured you’d just sneak off.”

Moss barked a laugh as Murphy left.

A few hours later, their gear stowed in duffels and slung over their shoulders, the team marched to the marine command post to formally say goodbye to Lt. Fowler. The corridors and entryway to the space dock where Satya was berthed was lined with marines.

In the rough way of combat veterans since time immemorial, they hailed their brothers and sisters in arms. Catcalls interspersed with ragged cheers echoed down the hall.

In Master Lu’s office a week later, they debriefed the mission. At the end, Lu said, “Lots of moving pieces on this one. The strategy was sound, and the marines held their ground. It was a good op, Quinn.”

Quinn nodded and looked out at the afternoon clouds gathering over the mountains.

“Jian,” Lu went on, “I have something for you.” He pointed to a box near his desk.

Jian rose from the chair in her chair in the alcove where they were sitting and opened the box. Inside was the dress uniform of a Coyote – replete with a blood stripe on the left breast.

River hopped up, saying, “Nice. Let’s get you dressed up.”

Lu pointed to the restroom door, and the two women scurried off.

“She did good,” Moss commented.

“So I gathered from your report,” was Lu’s dry response.

Moss chuckled. “No. I mean she did really good.”

Quinn added, “She’s got computer skills that could be honed.”

“And I’ll be recommending her for empath training,” Pax said.

“She still needs more seasoning,” Lu responded. “I do agree she’s doing well, but she hasn’t broken and put herself back together yet.”

“That may take a while,” Pax predicted. “She is resilient.”

The women exited the restroom, Jian now wearing the formal dress uniform over the basic black skin-suit. The formal uniform was all black with no option to shift to camo. The earlier version included the camo option, and it was ‘abused.’ A high collared jacket and straight-legged pants fit over the skin-suit. Ankle high soft boots with no heel finished the ensemble.

The teams were fine with the basic platform when it was first proposed, but the council contracted with designers for other attachments or embellishments that derived from Earth’s militaries.

On the left breast, a two-inch tall by 5-inch wide red stripe was background for crossed sabers. Superimposed where the sabers crossed was a stylized taiji symbol. Instead of the normal black and white teardrops within a circle, there was a dragon and a tiger, which represented Heaven and Earth. This ‘blood stripe’ was awarded to Coyotes after their first combat mission and was the equivalent to the combat infantryman’s badge many armies still used.

On the right breast was the kanji script of Penglai, Shentong Temple, and their individual name in three vertical columns.

At the throat was a round porcelain medallion with the face of a coyote surrounded by the motto: Wisdom, Courage, Faith. Squad leaders, such as Quinn, wore a gold medallion; team members wore silver.

Four inches from the end of each sleeve was raised silver piping that surrounded the sleeve. It was about a quarter-inch wide and was more than a tasteful accent. Originally a coiled nano-whip was concealed there, but now it housed the electronics to open a portal to a pocket dimension where they could hide weapons.

Lu rose. “Well, it’s close enough to dinner to introduce you.”

Lu headed for the door, and the team followed. Jian was fighting both nervousness and the joy of accomplishment – she had won the blood stripe.

They entered the main cafeteria, now filling up with resident Coyotes and support staff, trainers, monks, acolytes, and food servers. When they caught sight of Lu and his entourage, they quieted.

Lu spoke in a command voice, “I present to you, Coyote Jian. Make her welcome among your ranks.”

A cheer broke out in response.

Lu smiled and called out, “Carry on.” Then he left the cafeteria.