God's Dogs

Part 1

There are levels in meditation, certain plateaus where different powers are available. Ancient systems of meditation discovered these plateaus – Buddhist, Hindu, and Shamanic. Taoism began as a shamanic system, in fact, and the Chinese restless need to push limits drove Taoism from divining markings on a turtle shell to the Tao Te Ching, the Art of War, and the Celestial Masters. Taoism evolved acupuncture, qigong, taijiquan. As Taoism merged with Buddhism, a cyclical system with a hierarchical system, the spiral of Zen philosophy was the result. At that point, simplicity also emerged: What is more important – the moon, or the finger pointing to the moon?

Tract 58, Vol. 1, Warrior Chronicles

As usual, the briefing and simulation practice got it wrong. Where there was supposed to be nothing, the four-person extraction team walked into a potential ambush. They hadn’t sprung it yet, and River was moving through the trees to set up a sniper’s nest. Pax was edging around the enemy’s left flank. Quinn and Moss lay right in front of them.

Quinn rolled to his side in the uneven meadow. An overcast sky hid the moon, and the early morning darkness was still hours from fading into dawn. Empire soldiers lay between them and a small rural town.

“Moss,” he subvocalized into his implant comm. “Any way through?”

“Maybe to our left, boss. The ground is more broken that way. It will take time, though.”

“Pax,” Quinn continued. “How long until you’re around them?”

“Half hour or so. They don’t have much in the way of sensors. I don’t think they were really expecting us.”

“A not overly cautious commander,” River’s voice added. “I’m set up and can’t detect any supporting forces in the town. Looks like they dropped these guys off to watch the tree line and left them.”

“How many and how are they deployed?” Quinn wanted to know.

“Platoon strength and set up in a semi-circle with the command tent fifty yards back. Looks like they’re only worried about our tree line.”

“Any armor?”

“Nope.”

“Okay,” Quinn sighed. “Pax, see if you can get the package. Moss and I will support coming from your left. River, take out their command if it all turns to shit.”

Two blinks of their green position dots on his HUD (heads-up display) were his response. Then he added, “We’ll meet up at Bravo.”

Quinn prepared for the coming infiltration by breathing his way to a distinct location in the Nature realm of Spirit. He became one with the earth, the stubby grasses, and the wilting flowers. It was hot this time of year on this barely terraformed planet, and he could feel the thirst of the growth around him.

He visualized his route and figured it would take over an hour to get to the buildings behind the platoon. Their camo would keep them mostly invisible, but movement was the problem. They would need to go slow. He began a slow crawl toward the enemy line.

Their combat gear included light armored suits over skin-suits that muffled their heat signature, close fitting helmets with plug-ins to their A.I. implant for HUD and communication. State of the art camouflage blended them into the terrain. Low profile backpacks carried specialized gear for each team member, and each carried weapons specific to their roles.

The Coyote Project, to which this team belonged, came into existence when the non-aligned Buddhist world of Penglai came under attack during the Corporate Wars. Its name came from the mythical world in Taoist mythology that was said to house the Immortals. The few billion residents of that peaceful world, reluctantly at first, joined those rebelling against corporate control of the numerous but scattered human colonies in space. After decades of warfare, the corporate genii was crammed back into its bottle, and free trade became the norm for the next few hundred years. Greed, though, always finds a way. This time it showed itself as an Emperor, who in Genghis Khan fashion rushed to conquer the Orion-Cygnus Arm.

The emperor’s first obstacle was the Space Navy, an independent force funded by all the colonies for protection and humanitarian aid. It operated under the direction of the League of Worlds, itself a loose confederation organized to mediate disputes among its members. The would-be emperor subverted the forces near his home world and commenced building his own fleet of warships. It took a few years, but when he was ready, the attacks began – subvert a local government, create a civil war, and the emperor’s troops came in to bring peace, thereby annexing that world.

Quinn’s Coyote team was one of the first teams deployed to counter the Empire. The Coyote Project, since its inception in Earth year 2372, had trained warriors for over 200 years. A mix of modern and ancient disciplines informed the five-year curriculum. Of the hundred or so qualified candidates who entered the training each year, only ten percent graduated. Those who washed out, however, were highly sought after. Many went on to distinguished careers in the Space Navy or Marines, or with local militia units.

Those who graduated disappeared into Penglai’s Foreign Service, sporting new names, and deployed as the Penglai leadership saw fit. Their collective service record was never released, so that the existence of the Coyotes was well known, but none of its exploits were. Myth and legend grew to replace withheld facts.

Ninety minutes later, Quinn and Moss merged with the shadows at the corners of a two-story building. Pax was already inside preparing the package for extraction. If all went well, they could pass through the town to a nearby river, and escape back into the forest by following the slow moving river upstream.

“Got something,” River’s voice broke the calm. “About a klick out from you guys. APC coming fast.”

“Acknowledged.” Quinn said. “Pax, how you doing?”

“Coming your way.”

Quinn and Moss scanned the soldiers. The command tent had come alive, and the buzzing of comm units began. A squad of five detached from the perimeter and double-timed it to the command tent.

“We’re behind you, Quinn,” Pax announced as he exited the building.

“Let’s go,” Quinn replied and turned from the scene of the platoon re-organizing itself into fire-teams. It looked like they were preparing a sweep of the town and the treeline.

Then he and Moss flowed with the shadows to provide Pax and a smaller figure with a rear guard as they moved deeper into the town. On an adjacent street, the APC roared toward the command tent.

“We’re moving, River,” Quinn said. “Light them up.”

“Sending steel downrange,” River replied as she began firing on the platoon’s command tent.

Shouts from the platoon, nervous shots aimed at the trees, and bellowed orders erupted behind the fleeing team and their package – a teen girl, now dressed in her own skin-suit, struggling to stay with Pax who held her hand. They moved through the town to a trail that paralleled the river. Following the river upstream for miles, they veered off the trail as dawn approached.

They met up at the rendezvous point Bravo deep in the forest as the sky began lightening in the east. River was waiting with hot meals.

River helped the girl to a sheltered spot and began fussing over her.

Moss smiled, “I don’t think River gets enough girl time.”

He said it loud enough for River to hear. She turned her head to him and smiled back. “Exactly.”

The three men chuckled, retracted their helmets into the high collar of the light armor, and sat to eat their meals.

The girl looked at the team as they retracted their helmets and dug into their MREs. The morning sun was enough so that she could make out their features. River was tanned, short brown hair and brown eyes in a lean face. Her eyes glowed with mischief and compassion as she served the girl.

The men were equally nondescript at first glance. Lean rather than muscled, tan or brown skin, dark hair and eyes. Quinn’s features were wide-set, Pax’s were more Oriental, and Moss’ were boyish.

The girl spoke between bites, “I’m Raina. Thank you for getting me out of there. I’ve been hiding for weeks.”

Raina was thin, like a long distance runner, auburn hair to her shoulders, and light blue eyes. Her complexion was fair with a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose. A pixie face that seemed too solemn for her spirit frowned at them. “My family?”

“Another team got them out a few hours before we got you,” Quinn answered. “It’s probably why that APC was racing toward us. They figured out where you were hiding.”

“How did they get my family?” Raina wondered. “Imperial stockades are supposed to be impregnable.”

Moss laughed, “So they say.”

River, sitting next to Raina, added, “We’re a Coyote team. There’s not much we can’t do.”

Raina’s eyes widened. “They’re not real. Just myths.”

Moss cut in, “Well, that’s our story. What’s yours?”

Raina’s face fell. She looked down and said, “I’m a freak.”

River reached out to touch the girl’s arm. “We’re all freaks, you know. What brand of freak are you?”

The girl looked up puzzled. “Cyber-freak. When I was going through puberty, my implant A.I. developed sentience. We merged somehow. It took a while, but we’re comfortable together now. But the knowledge leaked, and that’s why the Imperials were after me.”

“Well, the Imperials are not an issue any more,” River reminded her. “Do you have any idea how the A.I. stuff happened?”

“My dad designed the implant, but everybody else who got that model ended up with a normal A.I. helper. We don’t know why mine morphed the way it did.”

Pax moved to sit next to the girl and asked, “Mind if I check something out?”

The girl shrugged and put her MRE down. Pax put a hand on each of her shoulders and lowered his eyes. He scanned Raina from head to toe, noting her qi flow. Then he brought his attention to her brain and let his presence touch her mind. It felt like a flowing out or an expansion of his presence. He breathed out and his presence encompassed the girl.

[Why are you here?] came a harsh query from the A.I.

[I’m here to help.]

[No one can help us. We are joined like Siamese twins.]

Pax sensed the connection. It was like the A.I. described. Two distinct beings shared space in the same field of consciousness.

[I can see that. Would you want to separate?]

[Not any more.]

[Then help me delve deeper. Our elders believe you can be something more than you think.]

Pax relaxed into a deeper state. Taking deep, complete breaths, he let his mind down-shift through the Nature realm permeated by qi, to the archetypal realm that ruled Form. Not finding any anomalies there, he breathed more slowly and dropped into the Void. He found what he was looking for.

Pax released the girl’s shoulders, took a deep cleansing breath, and opened his eyes.

“She’s a silpin nirmanakaya, a craft tulku.”

“A what?” Raina almost shouted.

Quinn let out a long sigh and answered, “It’s a Buddhist designation from long ago. According to the theory, you’re a reincarnation of a skilled crafts person who brings harmony through science.”

Raina’s jaw dropped, and she looked at each team member in turn. They gazed back softly.

Into the silence, River smiled, “Now we know what kind of freak you are.”

The others chuckled, but Raina’s face scrunched with worry. “What does it mean?”

Moss grinned at her. “Lots of training.”

That brought another round of laughter.

“Where? Why?”

River took her hand and said, “Penglai. And the why of it is to fulfill your destiny.”

“Am I to be a slave?”

“No,” River reassured her. “You can leave any time you want. In fact, you’ll be asked to leave at some point, so that your choice is one you’re fully committed to.”

“Spending a year out there with the English,” Moss snorted. “I couldn’t wait to get back.”

Quinn stood. “If we’re all rested. Let’s call for extraction.”

The stealth shuttle landed in a nearby opening in the trees, and the group boarded without incident.

The shuttle operated on gravitic drives or ion drives. It was not large enough for FTL drives. The exterior was stealth material made of a self-repairing nano-ferrous material. The shape was blockish with stubby wings for flight in an atmosphere and to provide attachment points for fuel or weapon pods. Inside, the seating was against each bulkhead so that the passengers faced each other across a narrow aisle. There was seating for about a dozen. The pilot and copilot occupied their own compartment forward, and the load master and an engineer, who doubled as a gunner for their one roof-mounted turret, filled out the crew.

Once all were seated and strapped in, the shuttle lifted off and flew nap of the earth to a location over the ocean that had weak sensor coverage. They scurried into space and linked up with the mother ship, a cutter that was hiding in an asteroid field a couple of AUs distant.

Their stealth cutter was 200 meters in length, 30 meters wide, and 20 meters tall. The rear cargo door opened between two nacelles. One other shuttle was parked in the landing bay, and the pilot brought their shuttle through an energy barrier to land next to it.

The crew began post-flight operations as the team led Raina up a ladder to the upper deck. After situating her in a cabin with a female ensign to help her settle in, the team stripped out of their gear, showered, and dressed in fresh skin-suits. Then they headed forward to the galley.

The captain of the eighteen-man crew met them there. The captain was of Native American descent. Many ethnic or so-called indigenous groups called Penglai home. They found they had more in common, in terms of rituals, spiritual practices, and world views, than they did with what was the dominant culture at the time of the early colonization period. Back then the corporations underwriting the colonies thought it good business sense to send like-minded people to the same worlds.

“Hey, Captain,” Moss called out and made his way to the coffee urn.

Captain John Twin Bears was a tall, well-muscled man with high cheekbones and Roman nose. Brown hair, brown almost black eyes twinkled with ill-disguised humor, he washed out of Coyote training fifteen years ago and became one of the captains Coyote teams liked to work with. His one-piece ship-suit was Navy blue, whereas the team wore basic black. He raised his mug to the team, who joined him at the table.

“All went well?” the captain’s deep baritone queried.

“No problems,” Quinn replied.

“What do you think of the mad emperor’s strategy?” the captain went on.

“So far he’s destabilized planetary governments,” Quinn said. “Then he comes in to resolve the problems he created, and then annexes that world to his empire. I see no reason for him to change a winning strategy.”

“My thoughts as well,” John replied. “He’s headed our way, you know.”

Moss chuckled. “He has to defend his flank.”