God's Dogs Book 2
Chapter 2

Their military training will ensure success in war, but they must maintain unity by not allowing the state to grow too large, and by ensuring that the measures for promotion and demotion from one class to another are carried out. Above all they must maintain the educational system unchanged; for on education everything else depends, and it is an illusion to imagine that mere legislation without it can affect anything of consequence.

Plato

The Buddhist world of Penglai was organized as a series of city-states. Instead of actual cities, a monastery or temple dominated each region or state. Surrounding it were vast tracks of farms, ranches, vineyards, resorts, retreat centers, as well as managed forests, parks, and wetlands. Living with nature, rather than ‘developing’ it, was the theme. There were actual cities that served as interfaces for orbiting space stations, as well as providing higher education in League accredited universities, and as jumping off points for tourism.

Heavy industry was conducted off-world in the asteroid belt and at stations in high orbit. The solar system provided ample resources for high industry, manufacturing, research and development, and the technical expertise required of a space-faring civilization. There was no need to pollute the home world.

Likewise, there was no need for empires like the Empire of Man, or the Corporate hegemony that began the Age of Expansion. Space was vast, and it made no economical sense to conquer other solar systems for their resources. Each system contained what was needed.

Ideology drove conquest, not economics. Once the Corporate Wars concluded, that fact become abundantly clear. The League of Planets arose to enforce that view.

On Penglai, the regional temple, as well as its satellite monasteries, provided education, market days for trade, apprenticeship programs, distribution centers, and military training for the militia. All served a term in the militia.

Once finished with their primary and secondary schooling, graduates entered two years of military training. Some twenty percent continued with a military or police career, either on Penglai or with the League marine corps. the navy, or the marshal’s office. The other option for those fresh from their schooling was to volunteer for the Coyote program.

Those volunteers were screened vigorously so that about 100 were selected for boot camp in each region. The six-week boot camp produced about a 90% attrition rate. Those who ‘dropped on request’ mainstreamed into the militia boot camps with almost celebrity status.

Quinn’s team landed at the militia training center a few miles from the Quan Yin Temple, a regional capitol. The training center was fifty square miles of varied terrain with barracks, mess halls, and other support structures situated in the middle of the large base.

The team, dressed in their black combat, one-piece, skin-suits, exited the shuttle to a waiting NCO standing beside a roofless utility vehicle. The stocky, sharp-faced soldier snapped to attention and saluted. “Master Sergeant Jack Gomez.”

The team responded with the distinctive Coyote salute of extended right fist followed by the left open hand cupping the right wrist.

Moss offered, “I guess we’re doing spit and polish, rather than laid back SpecOps.”

“That’s correct, Coyote Moss,” Gomez barked. Then he grinned, “But only around the troops. Load your gear and I’ll get you settled.”

They tossed their barracks bags in the back of the truck and climbed in. Gomez took the wheel and drove the hover-craft off the tarmac.

“We’re pretty excited about having you guys on the team,” he began. “In the past, all we could count on was a visit or two from Coyote central.”

“Coyote central?” River chuckled.

Gomez grinned. “Yeah. The name kind of stuck.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. “What’s our role?”

“The hardest role there is in training,” was the reply, “knowing how far to push them. Don’t get me wrong. My team is good. We’ve been together for a couple of years. We can break them down and build them up, but we’re blunt instruments. You guys will provide us with the finesse we lack. At least, that’s our hope.”

Pax asked, “How many on your team?”

“Seven, including me. We break the recruits into two platoons of about fifty each with a sergeant first class and two staff sergeants to run each platoon. I see two of you with each platoon, mainly as observers, but you’ll also be doing some of the instruction.”

“Sounds like fun,” Moss deadpanned.

Gomez glanced at him. “It can be. You’ll see.”

They pulled up to a four-plex, and Gomez showed them to their apartment. It was a ground floor unit with a basic layout of two bunk beds, a bathroom, a kitchenette, and a dining area/living room. Wall lockers stood next to the bunk beds, and a large window was set in the wall next to the front door.

“We’ll gather in my room next door when you’re unpacked,” Gomez told them. “You can meet the rest of the family, and we’ll go over the curriculum. Our recruits come in tomorrow, so we need to iron out some details.”

“Sounds good,” Quinn replied as he dropped his barracks bag next to a locker.

Moss announced, “I get a bottom bunk.”

Pax rejoined, “I get the one above you so I can step on you when I make a midnight run to the bathroom.”

“Yeah,” River said, “I’ll take a top bunk.”

“You don’t trust me?” Quinn shot back.

They unpacked their gear, made their beds, checked out the facilities, and made their way next door. A stairway, separating the two units, led to upstairs apartments. Two sergeants were coming down the stairs and joined them as they entered the master sergeant’s apartment.

Gomez lived alone, but the layout in his unit included chairs, a large whiteboard, and a desk with an attached computer station. Data filing cabinets were behind the desk.

“Coffee is ready,” Gomez told them as they entered. “Grab a seat.”

The other four sergeants were already present, and they all shook hands with the Coyote team. Of the six drill instructors, three were female, and the ethnic mix was from cocoa brown to jet black.

Gomez sat in an overstuffed chair as the rest of them sat on couches and chairs toward the front of the room.

“I’ll forego introductions,” he said, “as we can do that at lunch. For now, I want to review the basic outline of what we will be doing for six weeks.”

Moss chuckled. “That will be helpful, because it was all a fatigue-induced blur when I went through it.”

Gomez smiled. “SpecOps training, in general, boils down to whether or not you can make good decisions when you are tired, hungry, and cold.”

Pax asked, “Why is it only six weeks? I always wondered about that.”

“The basic training for the militia is ten weeks, and it runs concurrent with our training,” Gomez replied. “Our DORs will join one of those companies.”

Pax finished the thought. “We need to sort them in six weeks so they can complete basic training when they drop on request.”

“Correct. It also means we push our recruits harder and complete much of the ten week course in just six weeks. The DORs don’t have to make up any ground when they transfer to a militia company.”

“You would need to eliminate some of the larger curriculum to accomplish that,” Quinn pointed out.

“Yes. So let’s review what we are doing week-by-week,” Gomez said. “Their day begins at 0430, and lights out at 2100, except for week four and five when they go to well past midnight.

“Week 1 is close order drilling, physical fitness training, weapons familiarization, and core value instruction. Week 2 is unarmed combat training, orienteering, and the obstacle course. Week 3 is first aid training, tracking and concealment, and live weapons training. Week 4 is ambush the other platoon training, forced marches with a combat load-out, and more weapons training. Week 5 is an extended game of capture the flag – 24/7 until there’s a winner. We make sure there is no winner so it goes on all week. Week 6 is proficiency testing in all of the above skills, both individual and with teams.

“That’s the basic gameplan,” Gomez concluded. “There is a list of additional modules we trot out when the teaching moment arises, but mostly we break down their civilian identity and forge a military one that is primed for SpecOps.”

“Primed how?” River asked.

“The weird combination of faultless teamwork and individual initiative.”

“That’s a delicate balance,” Pax observed.

“Yeah,” Gomez grimaced. “It’s where we will be counting on you people. Like I told you, we’re blunt instruments. We have trouble making that call when evaluating a recruit.”

“Okay,” Quinn sighed. “I think we need to study up on the daily goals and objectives, as well as those modules you insert when the need arises.”

One of the sergeants handed them folders and said, “It’s all in there.”

Gomez stood. “You can read up on it after lunch, and we’ll be available if you have questions. But let’s go eat and get better acquainted.”

The mess hall was a short walk, and they chatted as they strolled to the large building. The sun was high, and the early summer warmth was welcoming. As they entered the mess hall, which was large enough to seat hundreds, other drill instructors called out greetings but left them to their business.

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