God's Dogs

There are the waves and there is the wind, seen and unseen forces. Everyone has these same elements in their lives, the seen and unseen: karma and free will. The question is, ‘how are you going to handle what you have?’ You are riding the karmic wave underneath and the wind can shift. Everyone must take what they see and deal with that which is unseen.

Attributed to the Goddess Kuan Yin

The Coyote teams returned to Penglai, debriefed, and slipped easily into monastic routine.

River’s routine began before dawn. In her four by eight foot cell, she rolled off the firm bed, opened the drawers beneath the bed for her change of clothing – combat skins and soft ankle boots. Then she visited the communal washroom.

Other team members were about the same task, yet none spoke. Silence was maintained until breakfast. Once finished with their morning ablutions, they headed for a nearby meditation hall.

River pulled a rolled mat from a cubby on the wall near the double doors, found a spot on the hardwood floor, and arranged herself into a full lotus facing a statue of the Buddha mounted on a dais.

After all were settled, a robed acolyte struck a large bell that resonated for long minutes.

River allowed the sound to become her reality, so that mind, body, emotions, wants, hopes, dreams, and all else faded away. Only the sound of the bell remained. And then she waited – for what, she didn’t know. It always came as a surprise. Her deeper self, what the yogis called the Self, knew what she needed to deal with.

In the past, she dealt with her difficult childhood. Growing up as a member of the twenty percent was never easy, but that was especially true for River as she wasn’t identified until late in her childhood. She raged at her younger siblings and sabotaged her older sister. She was constantly in trouble at home, but she excelled at school and in sports. She still wondered how she refrained from wreaking bodily harm on her siblings and decided it must have been her cutting sense of humor. Although, that was just a guess.

Once she was identified as a potential Coyote, things got better. The female mentor assigned to her normalized the differences she noticed in herself, differences she felt ostracized her from most people. She was still a freak, her mentor affirmed, but a valued freak.

It didn’t seem that way as she worked her way through the years of primary and secondary education. The ‘pacifists’ banded together to give her a routinely bad time.

Luckily she wasn't pretty, and therefore never a target for boys. Hers was a sturdy, even featured face, bland perhaps, except when she was laughing or scowling. She was overlooked, for the most part, except when she pushed herself in sports, or argued a point-of-view in class, or defended someone from bullying.

All those early memories, painful and otherwise, came up in these morning meditations. She observed them and the attendant emotions each freeze-framed scene produced. Then she let them go. Many of the more painful memories returned time and again, and she continued to observe and release them until they no longer returned.

Thoughts, she was taught, were like birds. You feed them, they stick around. You don't feed them, they set up a clamor in the brain until you do feed them. Over time, though, they leave when they realize they won't be fed any longer. With that chatter gone, the deeper messages were easier to hear.

Today the scene that emerged was Quinn ordering her to take care of the security room on their last op. It was the first time he allowed her independent command.

As the scene stabilized in her awareness, freeze-framed just after Quinn’s order, she allowed the emotions to float up: pride, anxiety, second-guessing, determination, and finally combat focus.

The emotions released and returned, and she held a passive, receptive space for what the deeper insights her Self was attempting to tell her.

That insight began bubbling up from her center, the tantien. She relaxed into it, and it slowly seeped into her entire being. Finally, it released its message: they had confidence in her; she belonged; she was a valued and loved part of the team.

Slowly that feeling faded, and she was left with confusion. On the one hand, why wasn’t this sense of belonging already there? She’s been a Coyote for two years. On the other hand, she wondered why or if she had been blocking her acceptance into the team all along – up until now, at any rate.

‘Weird,’ she concluded and eased her mind back to the emptiness the sound of the bell had created at the beginning of this session.

The meditation ended after two hours. In silence, they rolled up their mats and returned them to the cubbies. Then they filed out to the nearby dining hall. Filling their trays with breakfast, they sat with their teams at the cafeteria-style tables and benches. When they were all settled, a different acolyte spoke.

“Creator. In gratitude we greet the day. Sustain us on our Path.”

Then he struck a smaller bell he was carrying, which released them from silence, and breakfast began.

River glanced at her teammates and said, “I feel like I finally belong.”

“Took you long enough,” Moss said between bites of pancakes.

Quinn chuckled and attacked his own pile of pancakes.

Pax commented in his soft voice, “We have trouble with loyalty. We’ve been repeated betrayed and can’t figure out why. So we lock up.”

Moss added, “The pacifists, and normal people in general, have a more flexible definition of loyalty.”

“Contingent,” Pax countered.

“That fits,” River murmured. “Whereas ours is what? Inflexible, absolute?”

“Pretty much,” Moss replied.

“Crap,” River snickered. Then, she too attacked her pancakes, as she worried over that insight. She realized, eventually, it was true. Once she committed to someone, it was an absolute commitment. It was a bond that held her to that person regardless of what that person did. Over time, the betrayal assaults on the bond would break it, but not after she’d done lasting harm to herself by remaining in a bad relationship.

After breakfast, they began their daily training. For River, it started with Form training. The workout room for that was a twenty by forty foot room with a hardwood floor and mirrors on three walls. The ceiling was twenty feet high and the lighting subdued. Weapons of various kinds were along the wall with the entrances.

She started with a qigong warmup known as the Eight Sectional Brocade. The dozen or so others in the room used other forms of warmup. Some harkened back to hard or soft style martial arts, themselves millennia old. The feeling of carrying on ancient traditions permeated the workout space with a solemn but graceful insistence.

River finished her warmup and progressed to a kung fu form that combined circular blocking motions with sharp striking conclusions to the circles. Periodically, she leapt into pirouettes that landed in forceful strikes. The routine consisted of twenty-six moves, and she trained three such routines: the one she knew well, the one she was currently mastering, and the one she was learning. Form training was all about bringing the body into alignment with its idealized ‘form.’ It was the alignment of the skeletal and musculature systems into their most stable and efficient configurations. Power would flow from these stable platforms enhanced by the qi that also flowed along those aligned paths.

Once she finished with three repetitions of each form, she added weapons to the one she knew well and the one she was mastering. She preferred the ancient weapons – the five-foot staff, the willow leaf saber, and the short butterfly swords.

Around noon, a gong sounded and the group exited. Lunch was a brief snack, and then they were off to spar with one another in a much larger room. A senior monk and two junior monks awaited them on a firm mat. As the teams entered, the monks assigned workout partners, and the pairs found space on the mat, saluted one another, and began a slow workout.

Because of the lethality of the fighting techniques, they engaged in one-step sparring: the person who threw a punch did so for the partner to a have starting point to train a technique by counter-attacking. As that occurred, the attacker reacted to the punches and kicks of the defender as if struck by the blows, thereby actually training to slip punches. After two rounds, they alternated attacker and defender.

The point of this type of training was to build conditioned reflexes – the fastest response the body was capable of.

They began slow and increased their speed and intensity to near-combat speed. The monks that observed included retired Coyotes. Their corrections consisted of pointing out better foot placement, errors in accuracy, maintaining one’s center, and the other minute details understandable only to master martial artists.

Once they wound down to a slower pace, the pairs introduced weapons into their workouts. They slowed down again as they were now working for precision in timing, accuracy in blocks and counter-strikes, and the details of pulling the opponents’ center out of position. The weapon-wielding attacker was now responsible for making sure the defender’s technique would actually work. This made the entire exercise challenging as they were using live weapons.

Once the defense against weapons was over, they switched to offensive weapons training. This final segment was similar to the first training routine.

Then they took another short break for a snack and hydration before they headed to the outdoor firing range.

Similar to a standard firing range, there were stations with assortments of weapons, targets at known distances, and a range master orchestrating the process.

River began with the others working with their standard issue handguns and long guns. The handgun was a combo plasma blaster and stun gun. The rifle was a pulse-laser and either a grenade launcher, or a rail gun combo. There were other rifle and pistol combinations for specific missions: the needle pistol, the stun option for pistol or rifle, and others.

Once she felt good about her target groupings, she moved to the sniper station and practiced with that rifle, a scoped rail gun, at much longer distances.

After a few hours of practice, they returned to their rooms, cleaned up, and met in the dining hall for dinner.

River sat with her team as they dug into the hearty meal prepared for them. Buddhists were traditionally vegetarian, but since ancient times the fighting monks and nuns ate meat for the necessary protein. Coyote dining halls served wild fish and game dishes that were prepared to gourmet standards. Local hunters supplied the game meats, and they hunted in the old Amerind way – the animal that would die soon anyway was called to offer itself to the monastery. Once the animal gave a sign of some sort to confirm its willingness, the hunter would take its life. Afterward, the hunter sang a song of thanksgiving to the animal’s spirit.

In their novice year as Coyote candidates, they accompanied the hunters. It was the first assignment after a grueling six-week boot camp. During this assignment, they learned all about taking life. It was one of their first tests after boot camp: could they take life in a cold, calculating, and reverent manner? If not, they had no place as a Coyote.

The team ate and talked about their training until Pax wondered, “How do you think Raina is doing?”

“Haven’t heard,” Quinn replied.

“What I heard,” Moss began with a conspiratorial lilt to his voice, “was she’s deep in the study of a tulku’s duties and getting advanced instruction in meditation.”

River snorted, “Good guess, monkey boy. I mean, what else would she be doing?”

“Well,” Moss shrugged, “there’s the A.I. in her head. They might be doing something with that.”

Pax joined in, “Then they’re both getting tulku instruction and meditation practice.”

Then to Quinn, Pax asked, “What’s our schedule?”

“Train here for a while until the boss figures out what to do about the Empire.”

Pax went on, “We blocked them from coming this way. They have no choice but to go around. Wouldn’t that put them beyond our sphere of protection?”

“Master Lu thinks not,” Quinn answered. “They eventually have to account for us. We’re inserting more spies to find out what their thinking is. Until then, we’ll be disrupting their current plan of manufacturing civil war so they can waltz in and take over a planet.”

The next day, their training consisted of small unit tactics – from clearing buildings to taking on platoon-sized forces. With the latter, they set ambushes for militia troops, which gave local forces the opportunity to train against the best.

The following three days, they practiced escape and evasion in the mountains. The militia provided the opposing force for this as well.

The next day, Master Lu called them to his office.

They arrived after the light lunch following the morning routine. They had cleaned up and donned fresh skin-suits. Quinn knocked on the varnished wood door and entered, his team right behind.

“Ah,” Lu smiled and rose from his desk to greet them. “All is well with you, I assume.”

Quinn smiled back, “It’s always good to be here.”

“And now you must go,” Lu said and directed them to the chairs and couch to sit.

Lu continued, “We’ve been asked to provide support for a legitimate government that the so-called empire has brought close to civil war. It is in a different Sector, and our council has ruled it’s appropriate for us to send a team.”

“And the League?” Moss asked. “They can blow hot or cold when it comes to us.”

“The League forwarded the request from the world in question – Svenwold. It seems we’re all in this together.”

“Never heard of the place,” Moss commented. Then he grinned, “Why would I? It’s in another Sector. What kind of government?”

Lu answered, “Constitutional monarchy. The royal family has moved to the main space station, which I understand is well defended. The brewing war is on the ground.”

“What’s our role?” Quinn asked.

“That was unclear. SpecOps assignments most likely, but they may want you to lead troops, or train them, or something.”

“Great,” Moss muttered.

Lu shrugged then smiled, “And you need to take your dress uniforms as well.”

Coyotes only owned four forms of functional clothing. Their skin-suits or combat suits were the base for everything else. Lightweight, one-piece, supple but the fabric stiffened when impacted, and there was the camo option. A hood could extend from the high collar, and gloves could extend from the sleeves. Once fully encased in a skin-suit, they had a twenty minutes internal air supply, were protected from vacuum with an internal heating system, and their implants could use the face of the hood as a HUD (heads-up display).

Over the skin-suit, they could wear light armor, which was what they wore on their last mission. Or they could wear heavy armor, which included an exoskeletal system upon which hung plate armor, heavier shielding, larger weapon mounts, greater speed, and enhanced strength.

Finally, there was the dress uniform. As unostentatious as the Coyote organization was, the Penglai world council did push for a dress uniform that had some flair. Most Coyote team members didn’t like it just on principle.

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

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 encircled the sleeve. It was about a quarter-inch wide and was more than a tasteful accent. It was a coiled nano-whip that, when pulled loose, extended to six feet in length and an eighth of an inch in diameter. It didn’t show up on the most sophisticated of scanners.

They ended a two-week FTL flight aboard Satya at the main space station above Svenwold. The station was built around a central series of axes that supported numerous rings. From a distance, it resembled a small moon. As the ship drew closer, the spaces between the rings became visible. It was along the rings that ships parked and much of the commerce took place. The Satya was directed deeper into private docking on one axis limb closer to the central core.

Adorned in their dress uniforms, they exited the ship to the catcalls of Satya crew. It seemed that only Penglai’s council liked the dress uniform.

A much more garishly dressed soldier with a squad of six other soldiers met them at the bottom of the ramp.

“I’m Lieutenant Branson, sir,” a fit man in his late twenties barked as he saluted. “I’m here to escort you to the Royal Chamber.”

Quinn nodded, “Lead on, lieutenant.”

The lieutenant dropped his salute, not sure why it wasn’t returned, and marched ahead of them. The squad of six flanked the team.

Quinn contacted Captain John on the ship through his implant, “Captain, they have no idea about our protocols. Would you please clear that up before we get to the meeting with the king and queen?”

“Sure thing, Quinn,” was the reply.

The Penglai council wasn’t too keen on the formal protocols that emerged from the monasteries at the beginning of the Coyote project. The Masters, though, were adamant in supporting them. In fact, there was only one protocol. Of the many forms of Chinese martial arts salutes, there was one where the right fist formed at the heart and extended with the fist pointing at the person being saluted. The left open-hand cupped the fist at the wrist. The symbolism was that the naked fist showed the raw power of who the Coyotes were. The left hand surrounding the wrist represented their reverence for all life. The salute was performed in a right kick or cat stance. The right foot was forward with ten percent of their weight, while the left foot was back bearing most of the weight. The salute was similar to a yoga Namaste: the Divine in me sees, acknowledges, and honors the Divine in you.

As such, Coyotes didn’t bow, or take a knee, or prostrate themselves to anybody. Quinn might dip his head in a sort-of bow to saluting soldiers, or as a sign of true respect to his Masters, but when he and his team were presented to presidents, kings, queens, or prime ministers, there would be no bowing and scraping.

The hallway they marched along was apparently within a secure zone as men and women in various military uniforms hustled by, along with a few well-dressed civilians. The walls were a simple beige with periodic portraits or recessed niches for flowering plants. Eventually, they reached double doors that slid aside to allow them entrance to a spacious room busy with the business of the monarchy.

Computer stations lined the near walls. Behind those were fewer large desks. Behind those were fewer even larger desks. All of them were manned by a host of people in gray and scarlet uniforms. The far wall held a raised platform, a dozen desks, two ornate chairs, and a semi-circle of ten desks that faced the dais. A space of about twenty feet separated the semi-circle with the dais. Eight guards flanked the dais, four on each side, and about fifty other guards milled around the room. The king and queen, in their own version of ship suits, hovered over those manning the desks on the dais.

They glanced up as the lieutenant led Quinn’s team forward. The lieutenant halted five paces from the dais, bowed, and spoke.

“Your Majesties, may I present the Coyote team from Penglai.”

Then he turned to his right and stepped back two paces.

The team stepped forward and made a line abreast facing the royal couple. Then they shifted to a right cat stance and saluted. They held the salute to connect Divine to Divine, then recovered to a wuji stance, feet mostly together, knees unlocked, fists at the sides.

“I’m Quinn, leader of the team you requested.”

The lieutenant started forward, most likely to enforce some necessary obeisance, but the king held up a hand and said, “It’s alright, lieutenant. Their customs are fine with us. We are glad to have their help.”

The queen cocked her head to one side inspecting them and said, “We only hope their reputation squares with their performance.”

The royal couple looked to be in their fifties. Both were tall, blond, blue-eyed, and physically in shape. Both also held the presence of inherited authority and sported faded good looks.

Quinn didn’t rise to the queen’s comment. Instead he said, “I am unclear on what you want us to do. Perhaps we could clear that up first.”

“To the point,” the king said. “I’m Harald, by the way. This is Mavin, the queen.”

Quinn didn’t nod a short bow to either of them. So far, they hadn’t earned his respect. He merely waited for the king to get to the point. His sense of command authority derived from maintaining a stoic presence in the observing self. He gave nothing away and observed everything around him with a quiet equanimity that made many people uncomfortable.

Harald stepped down from the dais and stood in front of Quinn. Then he said, “We need the rebels of our world captured, and we need the Empire’s agents killed. Can you do that?”

“Probably. If the intelligence is good. If our support is reliable. And if we are free of interference from the command structure.”

“No oversight?”

“None. We’re outside the chain of command. Our operational security demands it.”

The queen descended from the dais and approached River. After giving River the once-over, the queen said, “A female Coyote. I hadn’t known. We have females in all positions, but very few become SpecOps. Are there many other women Coyotes?”

River returned the queen's critical appraisal before she answered, “About forty percent are women.”

“Hmm,” the queen breathed and went onto inspect Pax and Moss. Then she commented, “You don’t look like much. I was expecting Hercules or Thor or something a bit more than what you people look like.”

Quinn broke from his conversation with the king to say, “We’re here to complete the contract you made with Penglai. You can cancel at any time.”

The queen eyed him and pouted, “Can’t we test you first?”

“No. We’re not entertainers.”

“On your right,” Pax said.

Quinn turned and side-kicked the charging lieutenant in the solar plexus, which drove him into two of his men. The lieutenant ended up on the ground gasping for air. Pax turned to face the other four soldiers who showed confusion.

The royal guards began converging on the team as Quinn turned back to the queen. River and Moss faced out, so that the team formed a dynamic square. Each stood in a loose wuji stance.

Quinn said, “Do you want us to fulfill the contract or not?”

The king addressed the troops. “Hold everyone. Just stop.”

The queen eyed Quinn, “How did you know?”

“Pax is an empath. As soon as he felt malicious intent, he let us know.”

Medics soon attended to the lieutenant, who was still gasping for breath. They helped him to his feet and half-carried him from the room.

The king refocused on Quinn. “Forgive my wife’s indiscretion. It seems she asked Lieutenant Branson to test you. He is a regimental champion in unarmed combat.”

Moss snickered. “You might want to ask the lieutenant for forgiveness. We don’t give a shit.”

“Yes, of course,” the king muttered while the queen scowled.

“Making friends, Moss?” River commented.

“The job?” Quinn cut in.

“Yes.” The king nodded, thought for a moment and said, “You’ll need to see Colonel Foxworthy.” The king turned to the dais and spoke to one of the men, “Have Foxworthy report to me.”

The colonel must have been waiting outside as he appeared almost immediately. A solidly built man, Foxworthy was of medium height with a square jaw, wide-set dark eyes, and buzz-cut dark hair. He wore a tan uniform with eagles on his collars.

He bowed from the waist to the royal couple and said, “Colonel Foxworthy reporting as ordered.”

“Take charge of this Coyote team, colonel,” the king ordered.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Foxworthy said. Then he turned to the team. “Follow me, please.”

The team did so without a backward look to the stunned room of people.

Once they reached the corridor, the colonel asked, “What did you do in there?”

Moss replied, “The queen insisted on a test. She was not pleased with the result.”

The colonel sighed. “She’s not the more mature of the two of them. The current situation has sprung new realities on her that she struggles to understand.”

They marched in silence until they entered the colonel’s office. It was a functional cubicle with a desk and a few chairs.

“The situation is the rebels are backed by a couple of the larger corporations. Because of some royal projects gone wrong, the economy is, or was, in a recession. These corporations think that a change in government will be good for business.”

“What about the people?” Quinn asked.

“Easily swayed to the idea of a more equitable economic future,” the colonel replied. “We’ve been in need of economic reform for a while. There were royal initiatives designed to spark the start of those reforms, but the queen insisted her friends be awarded the contracts.”

The colonel paused, and Moss completed his thought. “And they spent the money on studies that turned into big parties.”

Quinn redirected the conversation. “The king said we’re to grab the rebel leaders and eliminate the Empire’s teams. Is that what you want?”

“I’m not sure that would be enough at this point. I’m the operational chief of SpecOps. We could accomplish those goals ourselves. What I need is for the rebels to realize what the Empire will do when they take over.”

“How can that goal be accomplished?” Quinn asked. He knew better than to propose anything at this juncture. It would be taken as arrogant, and at some level, it would be. Foxworthy was the expert on his world, not Quinn. However, Quinn was the expert on what needed to be done.

“I don’t know. The rebel corporations seem pretty convinced they have a solid agreement with the Empire.”

“So you’re looking for some kind of sting operation,” Moss concluded.

“If I catch your meaning, then yes.” The colonel said. “The Empire must be exposed for the dictatorship it is.”

River interjected, “And the fighting on the ground. How wide-spread is it?”

“Localized to the big cities at this point, but it is wide-spread and well organized. Mostly staged protests, acts of terrorism, armed insurrection that fades away once the military arrives, and some guerrilla-style attacks on our forces.”

“Ripe for the Empire to show up and bring its brand of peace,” Quinn observed.

“It is consistent with the pattern they’ve followed.”

“Okay,” Quinn sighed. “A sting operation. Show us your intel on the Empire’s teams, and we’ll need a dozen or more of your people for backup.”