God's Dogs

Social identities are relational; groups typically define themselves in relation to others. This is because identity has little meaning without the “other.” So, by defining itself, a group defines others. Identity is rarely claimed or assigned for its own sake.

Zygmunt Bauman

The team took turns visiting River. Every day, one of them showed up to have lunch with her. She discussed her progress with each of them, and they saw her crawl out of the hole she was in.

After three weeks, the medical and mental health departments cleared her for duty. She moved into the Coyote barracks to resume her duties. But not before a meeting with Master Lu.

“Please sit,” Lu said as he came from behind his desk.

They sat before the bay window in the comfortable chairs in the alcove. River gazed out the window in gratitude for just being back here.

Lu began, “It is protocol that we offer you the option of retiring with full benefits, River. That means we will support you in establishing whatever you may want to do next.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I will respectfully decline that option. I prefer to return to my team.”

“Not surprising,” Lu chuckled. “You are hardly that insecure girl who entered Coyote training. Even so, I must ask, ‘What has this trial by fire won you?’”

“Rosalind kept that question active throughout my counseling,” River said. “At this point, I’m not sure. Something shifted or hardened in me, but I can’t identify what it is.”

“Those capabilities show up when they are needed,” Lu said. “The twenty percent possess depths of character that manifest in those moments when they are needed. It’s why Coyote training is so brutal. We want you to know your own depths.”

River blinked a few times before responding, “So I won’t know what it is until I need it?”

“Yes,” Lu said, “but it will also be a source of strength operating in the background.”

“Interesting,” River mused.

“Don’t be surprised if some things are easier.”

“Like what?”

Lu smiled. “Who knows?”

River smiled back. “We are mysteries unfolding.”

“Indeed, we are.”

On Amazonia, Linda was back in Colonel Bain’s office. He seemed to get Coyote training at a theoretical level but not at a practical level. For him, there was a weird disconnect between the two. Linda had seen something similar with trainees making something harder than it was.

Linda sat before the colonel’s desk. It was a spartan office with a view of the mountains of Amazonia, swirling with clouds, showing through the window behind the colonel.

He was saying, “As per your request, we’ve scheduled a search and destroy mission at Firebase 3.”

“Good. I’ve got a platoon of trainees out there that are ready to test their concealment and evasion skills.”

The colonel frowned. “My SpecOps guys could find them blindfolded.”

“Maybe,” Linda allowed. “I’ve got a bottle of Irish whiskey that says otherwise.”

What she didn’t say was it was a bottle she won from him a few months ago off the same bet with an earlier platoon of trainees.

Once she secured an OpFor for her trainees, she broke free of the admin building, hopped into a flyer, and returned to Firebase 3.

Trainers from Penglai were working with the forty-five trainees. Amazonian non-coms worked alongside them to absorb the methodology of shaping a Coyote. Linda jumped out of the flyer, which rose to return to its base. She marched up to the main trainer who was talking to three others on a broad field surrounded by trees.

“Master Jackson,” she smiled at a weathered black man with a shaved head.

“Coyote Linda,” his scratchy voice sounded back. “What’s on your mind this fine day?”

“I got us a search and destroy mission scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.”

“Very good. Do you want to brief the op, or should I do it?”

“I think it’s my turn.”

“True,” Jackson nodded and turned to the assistant instructors and said, “Have them fall in.”

The assistant instructors barked out their commands, and shortly there were four rows of trainees in one-piece tan uniforms standing at attention.

Linda surveyed them — 25 men and 20 women. They passed a battery of physical and psychological tests to get here. They were the best of Amazonia’s military. And yet, the real tests were about to begin.

“Stand easy,” Linda told them. “Tomorrow some of Colonel Bain’s boys and girls will be here to locate and eliminate you. So my job today is to teach you how to disappear.”

She paused to wait for the inevitable challenges: What can you teach us? We know all about camouflage. And so on.

She cut them off with, “No camo. No mudding up. You’ll wear tank tops and shorts. And you’ll disappear.”

“How?” was the next question that came from many mouths.

“Master Jackson!” Linda called out, and Jackson ‘appeared’ in the middle of the trainees’ formation.

Many of them jumped in surprise. Jackson strolled over to Linda’s side.

Linda said, “You are beings of Light, beings of energy, as well as beings in corporeal form. It is time you explored the possibilities beyond the limitations of the flesh.

“Draw earth energy up through your legs to your tantien. Hook that energy to your life-force and let it descend into the ground to create roots. Deep roots. Spend some time with this visualization. From your center down, become the earth.”

She let them work with those images for a while until she could feel they all were grounded. Then she instructed, “Pull in the energy of the sun through your head to your tantien. Hook that energy up to your spirit. Then let your spirit move up to the sun, and then connect with the Universe.”

She paused again to let the new image solidify. Then she said, “Notice the interface between your grounded self and your star self. Imagine those two selves joining hands, walking into the cave of your tantien, sitting down there, and watching the world outside go by.”

After a lengthy pause, she told them, “Slowly open your eyes and notice your team mates.”

She knew their eyes would slip off the images of their team mates. They were there but they weren’t. One’s eyes had trouble tracking the physical world in this exercise, so she cut it short.

“Close your eyes again. Now, release yourself from the cave. Feel yourself come fully back into your body. And now open your eyes.”

She smiled as she saw them all find out that all was right with the world once again. She turned to Master Jackson.

“Your platoon.”

“Thank you,” he chuckled. Then he addressed the platoon, “You now know one meditation that allows you to disappear. You know we are manipulating both the qi-field and the archetypal field. And you’re withdrawing your energy signature into your center. Practice it. When you think you have it, hide from your squad mates. Hide in plain sight, by the way. See if you can make yourself disappear.”

They set to the task with some enthusiasm, as Linda and Jackson strolled off the parade ground.

Jackson noted, “They are picking up the qi-field tricks more readily than when we started.”

“But not the spirit-level tricks.”

“No. Those are still difficult. I’m not sure how to approach that problem.”

“Maybe we need Penglai trained Coyotes to show us — role-model the spirit manipulations.”

Jackson nodded. “I’ll see who’s available.”

They sent Quinn and his team. It seemed a good fit for River’s rehab to do some teaching, and Linda’s need to upgrade the Amazonian training with people she trusted. She welcomed their arrival.

Spirit level training was tapping into the archetypal realm of various deities, masks of God, ascended masters, and so on. Amazonians did have a rich tradition of saints and soul-friends that served as a jumping off point for a more expanded view of this plateau of spiritual potential.

The team talked over the options with Linda, Jackson, and the other trainers. They settled on a simple demonstration. The team and the trainers sat around a sacred fire in the evening. The trainees sat or stood around them to observe they knew not what.

The first thing the team did was ‘bend’ the fire. One half of them would push the flames toward the other half, who pulled the flames. Then they got the flames to swirl, change colors, lay down flat, almost go out, then flare up.

“There is a spirit in each fire,” Master Jackson told the befuddled trainees. “An entity you can connect with. It will aid you in manipulating the fire if you ask nicely. In fact, there are spirits, like guardians, that attend to all things. Some are easier to interact with than others, and some people have an easier time with some and a harder time with others. These are the things you must know about yourselves and the living universe you inhabit.”

One of the trainees asked, “Is that how they are bending the fire? A fire spirit is helping them?”

“More or less,” Master Jackson answered. “Why don’t you try?”

The trainees broke into groups and hurried to the other sacred fires burning nearby. The command staff left the trainees to play with the fire as Quinn’s team backed away.

When the trainees were done playing with the fire, the team reseated themselves before the fire and called in a ‘spirit helper.’ They asked these entities to just stand behind them and make themselves visible to the trainees. There were audible gasps from the trainees as these entities shimmered into sight.

Now that the plateau of spirit was encountered and verified as real, the trainees could more easily access the gifts there. One gift was that there were teachers waiting to impart their knowledge to the curious student. Another was a place for healing in spirit. In short, all the ancient knowledge was available here for them to explore.

The trainees began apprenticing to different of the ‘spirit guides’ they encountered, and that helped the trainees complete their training. As the project gained momentum and stability, Quinn’s team had the opportunity to travel around Amazonia and visit with new people and the people they met before. They got to see more of this world and its people.

They ‘helped out’ for six weeks before they were recalled to Penglai for a mission briefing. They met in Master Lu’s office, and Master Chin was in attendance.

Master Chin led off, “In its wisdom, the Penglai council, with the tacit approval of League Intelligence, has released us to provide teams to the Galactic Congress.”

Moss spoke, “That’s golden boy’s group?”

River chided him. “His name is Eladon.”

“Yes,” Chin said. “I’m sure the translation leaves something to be desired. The term ‘Galactic Congress’ is, most likely, a more robust designation in their language. Be that as it may, you’re going on a recon mission to some trouble spot.

“The Congress wants to know if a combatant in some war is using illegal weapons. We don’t know who, and we don’t know what kind of illegal weapon. You’ll get that information when you arrive at their SpecOps headquarters.”

“Rules of engagement?” Quinn wanted to know.

Chin snickered. “You won’t engage. Total stealth.”

“Great,” Moss muttered.

“What’s our timeline?” Quinn asked.

“Eladon will take you and the Satya to the Congress SpecOps headquarters,” Chin replied. “Their FTL is faster than ours. You’ll get briefed, accomplish your mission, and be home for Christmas.”

Eladon’s ship was more than spacious enough for the Satya to fit in the hanger. Once Satya was down and secured, Eladon’s holo-presence appeared on the bridge.

“Welcome aboard. Our journey will last four of your days. You are restricted to your ship, however. We hope you have a pleasant flight.”

The golden holo flickered out.

“I guess they don’t want us breaking anything,” Moss commented.

The bridge crew chuckled at that, but Captain John cut them off, “Ship, are you in contact with their ship’s A.I.?”

“Yes, Captain. We are getting a detailed diagnostic scan. I suspect they will want to upgrade the hardware on our hull.”

“Is there any environmental reason why we should be restricted to the ship?”

“Yes, Captain. Insufficient oxygen and low air pressure.”

“Okay.”

“They are aliens,” Moss observed.

During the trip, Satya received hardware upgrades on her stealth and shield emitters, as well as her communication antennae. The team held to a relaxed training routine, and the crew performed maintenance.

After four days, Satya undocked from Eladon’s ship and emerged near a colossal space station in deep space.

“Wow,” the navigator exclaimed. “It looks like a giant starfish.”

“Sitting on a spindle,” Moss added.

The comm light blinked, and the comm officer said, “Incoming from the station, Captain.”

“On the main screen. Let’s see where we park.”

The being on the screen, which they could only see from the shoulders up, had a triangular head with flat plates of, what looked like, armor. He spoke, “Welcome to XB-12. Lock onto the guidance beam and follow docking instructions.”

“Helm?”

“Got it, Captain. We’re docking toward the tip of one of those arms.”

Ship announced, “That arm is human compatible, Captain. Each arm is a self-contained module to accommodate different species. I have more information that I’m posting on the ship’s intranet.”

“Thank you, Ship.”

Quinn headed for the hatch. “Let’s go meet our hosts.”

Their hosts, two of them, looked like the being on the bridge screen. Their shape vaguely resembled a triceratops head, but they were bipedal and endowed with the plate armor motif across their legs, head, body, and two arms. Each stood a good seven feet tall and were dark gray in color. They wore chest and waist harnesses for various tools, including holstered pistols.

“Welcome,” one said through a translation device. “We are assigned to you while you are here.”

“Great,” Moss said. “You got names?”

The other one spoke, “Not ones you can pronounce.”

“So, we can go with, ‘Hey you!’ Or is there a protocol we need to learn?”

A sound came from both that may have been laughter. The first one responded, “Since you won’t be able to distinguish between us, the protocol is to address us as Guardians.”

“Please explain,” Quinn said.

“We’re escorts,” one said.

Moss snickered. “Then escort us to wherever we’re going.”

The top of the arm was a loading area for both passengers and freight. Below were three decks: A, B, and C. A deck was conference rooms, offices, and a cafeteria. B deck was apartments and training halls. C deck life support.

The Guardians escorted the team to an office on A deck. The office décor was functional bureaucratic – desk, chairs, computer desk with a tech working there, storage for memory cubes, and another plate armor being standing behind a desk. Along with his tool belt harness, this one sported a purple pauldron on one of his shoulders.

The team trooped in, and their escort flanked the pressure hatch entry.

“Welcome,” the being behind the desk said. “I’m your liaison with the Galactic Congress. You may call me Commander Ikel.”

“Thank you. I’m Quinn, team leader. Do you have our briefing packet?”

“Not as such. We will be overseeing the operation this time to see how you perform.”

Quinn glanced to Moss, who was already moving forward. “In that case, commander, you can give us a note that says we made it here, and we’ll be headed back to Penglai, because you have no authority to oversee us.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re independent contractors,” Moss replied, “or we go home.”

“That’s an arrogant position to take. The Congress is giving you a chance to prove yourselves.”

“Maybe so, but our independent status was in your briefing from Penglai Foreign Service,” Quinn said in a voice meant to soften Moss' forceful declarations.

The commander retorted, “You are in a probationary period. It is customary that we provide oversight.”

Pax stepped forward as he now sensed the cause for the emotional turmoil within the commander. “And you’re not comfortable breaking that customary practice. Let your supervisor know we refused oversight and see what they say.”

The commander turned away, apparently in private conversation with someone through his comm. Presently, he turned back to them and said, “This is not how things are done, but my instructions are to allow you to proceed without our normal oversight. You will, however, take the Guardians with you as observers.”

“We can do that,” Quinn said. “Now. Our briefing packet.”

Once they were in the passageway, Moss asked the Guardians, “Are you guys in the same chain-of-command as that bureaucrat?”

They made the scratchy laughing sound again before one said, “No.”

River spoke up, “I’m getting the difference between you two. One of you has a baritone voice. The other is more in the Russian bass range.”

“Yeah,” Moss smiled. “Barry and Ruski. I like it, River.”

“I’m from the government,” River quipped. “I’m here to help.”

Apparently missing River’s sarcasm, Barry replied in a solemn baritone, “We will accept these designations, and we are amazed by your handling of the self-important commander.”

“Thanks,” was Quinn’s dry response, then probed for what he wanted to know. “What are Guardians?”

They had ascended to the docking deck and were almost back to the Satya. They could see the ship was receiving stores and other necessities.

“We are above the cafeteria,” Barry said and headed for a nearby elevator. “We should be comfortable for that tale.”

“Okay,” Moss grinned.

“Let me check in,” Quinn said and activated his comm link.

“Satya, here, Quinn. Whom do you wish to contact?”

“Just you, Ship. Let the captain know we’re down one deck at the cafeteria. Also, what do you have on the Guardians?” Quinn subvocalized.

“They are from a warrior race called Sentic. Strange physiology, Quinn. Their epidermis resembles plates like you would find on a rhinoceros.”

“What are Guardians?”

“Elite SpecOps troops used primarily for anti-terrorism, anti-sniper, and it looks like anti-anything.”

“Thanks, Ship.”

The next deck down, at this end of the arm, was a corridor that opened on both sides into a spacious cafeteria. To their left was the prep area, and seating was to their right. They grabbed the local equivalent of coffee and sat at a long table.

Ruski took up their introduction. “Guardians specialize in escort work – bodyguards. We belong to a special division within the Congress intelligence service.”

“Well, cool,” Moss said. “And the commander?”

“He’s military.”

Quinn asked, “What makes you good bodyguards?”

The two looked at each other and Barry said, “The Sentic, our species, is a precognitive species.”

“Wow,” River said. “How far can you see into the future?”

“It varies,” Barry replied. “With training, a gifted few can capture up to an hour. Guardians are recruited from those gifted few.”

Moss grinned. “Must have been a rough evolutionary journey for your people.”

“Our home world was hostile,” Ruski agreed.

Pax said, “What are you holding back?”

“You are the empath,” Ruski stated.

“Yes, and you are protecting something.”

“We are,” Barry said. “We are your escorts, primarily, but our classified orders are to ascertain how to defeat you.”

Moss laughed. “That’s paranoid enough to come from the clandestine services.”

“What’s your read so far?” Pax went on.

“You are too spontaneous,” Barry said. “We didn’t foresee you taking the commander down like you did.”

River mused, “So precognition has a logic to it.”

“Yes. From what we understand about it, we can pick up logical consequences, but we also pick up on emotional explosions – like natural disasters. Mostly, though, it’s logical predictions.”

Pax said, “You can sense the probable future.”

“That would be an accurate statement.”

They chatted until the ship was loaded. The team reboarded while the Guardians retrieved their gear and boarded about an hour later.