God's Dogs
Chapter 3

The undisturbed mind is like the calm body of water reflecting the brilliance of the moon. Empty the mind and you will realize the undisturbed mind.

Yagyu Jubei

The next afternoon, the five of them dropped to the planet in a commercial shuttle. They wore civilian clothing – spacers on leave, and carried their tactical gear in duffle bags. These were sealed with diplomatic seals to avoid customs curiosity. Their identification papers also reflected their status as foreign service employees.

Aberdeen’s main city Bristol was a port city. The ocean visible from the shuttle’s view port was wind-tossed and produced a fog that extended well inland. The city was well planned. Housing districts separate from commercial or government districts were ringed by green belts. Even so, the original settlement was drifting into disrepair and would soon become a slum. It was near the spaceport, and it was there the team found lodging in a rundown hotel sandwiched between bars and brothels.

After studying the profiles and pictures of the known terrorists, they changed into their tactical gear and layered that under local clothing options, and, that evening, set out singly to look for their quarry. Sgt. Murphy remained at the hotel and rigged their quarters with sensors and other perimeter security devices.

Pax staked out the most likely location for the terrorists, because he was the team’s empath. Additionally, he was the most sensitive to energy, whether it was emotional or ripples in the qi-field.

Pax was the second of three children and grew up riding horses on the plains well south of the mountains where Shentong Temple was located. The community consisted of ranches that tended various herds – sheep, cattle, llamas, etc. He attended the local temple school, which also included a sprawling center of agricultural colleges, and mustering center for the militia. The philosophy driving the local economy was derived from one of Pax’s ancestors, Masanobu Fukuoka, a pioneer in permaculture. Pax grew up with the slogan of ‘nature as leader’ to guide him.

Early on, his teachers identified he was one of the twenty percent of the population that would grow to be a protector of the other eighty percent. There was no firm test to confirm it, but others of the twenty percent could recognize a like-soul.

They called it a ‘jugular instinct.’ It was an attribute that showed itself as a stubborn persistence to accomplish a task, a comfort with high stress situations, and an inability to back down when they knew they were right, and they were usually kinesthetic learners. They learned by doing – a restless quest for knowledge.

By the time he was eight, his curriculum in school reflected his new status. It included the study of conflict. From Alexander the Great, to the Pax Romana, the Crusades, Genghis Khan, the Warring States, and onto the early revolutions against colonial rule, and finally to the Corporate Wars.

He participated in team sports, martial arts training, and weapons training. His meditation training was designed to enhance his empathic control, give him maps for the different trans-rational realms, and sharpened his intuition. By the time he was eighteen, his teachers knew he was qualified to attempt the Coyote Program. There his interest in what everybody said was his destiny resolved into a burning need to oppose the millennial old sickness in man – the abuse of power.

Pax slid by the bouncer at the door of the Jumping Kangaroo bar and took up station in a poorly lit corner. The room was as large as a warehouse, and a stage fronted by a dance floor dominated the far space. Tables and chairs filled the rest of the room, and a long bar paralleled the wall to his right. A mixed crowd of spacers, locals, bar girls, and slumming rich kids filled two-thirds of the space. Bar maids wandered through them taking and filling orders. Music blared through the sound system, but the nightly live show was yet to begin.

Pax projected his ‘presence’ to the bar, which afforded him an empty space in the qi-field to complete his reconnaissance. As yet, there was no one he recognized in the crowd. He settled down to a passive sweeping of the crowd until his internal radar would ping on the target he sought.

Near midnight it pinged on one of the faces he memorized – a nervous thin man with a pinched face. Dressed in neutral colors, the man blended well with the crowd as he headed for the restricted back rooms. Pax weaved his way after the man.

When he entered the door to the restricted area, Pax caught the door before it closed and slid through. He slipped out of his spacer one-piece suit and triggered the camouflage feature of his light armor.

A lit hallway connected employee areas, the kitchen, storage rooms, and randomly spaced offices. The man turned left at the end of the hall, and Pax followed. As the man entered an office, Pax edged past him, tagged him with a listening bug, and continued down the hall.

The man paused, sensing something was off, looked over his shoulder briefly but dismissed his concern and entered the office. The combination of the camouflage and Pax’s ability to project his presence elsewhere fooled the man into thinking he was alone.

Pax alerted Murphy that the bug was live and settled once again to await the next development.

Three men left the office and exited the building through a back door. Pax followed. From what he heard of their conversation, they were prepping a location for a hit. He wasn’t too surprised when their hotel was the target. The bad guys were setting up shooting lanes and sniper locations to kill Pax and his team.

Pax checked in with Quinn. After briefing Quinn on the situation, Pax said, “I’m all for taking these guys down right now.”

“Might as well,” was Quinn’s response. “Need any help?”

Pax didn’t bother to answer. He moved quickly to the room the terrorists were inspecting, rolled through the door, and came up firing with a silenced projectile pistol. Three head shots later, he reported, “They’re down. I’m searching them now.”

Coyote training included long sessions of capture the flag. After learning new tactics, or new weapons, or new abilities to manipulate qi flow, the trainers split the class into two teams and started the game. Often the battleground was in nature – mountains, prairie, jungle, or whatever, but urban settings were frequent. Coyotes learned to blend into any environment, with or without their skin-suits or light armor, and take advantage of the options available in each.

Once Pax collected what he could from the bodies, he set up outside the room’s window. He anchored himself to the plascrete wall with pitons to hold a nano-fiber rope. Then he waited to see who would show up to retrieve the bodies.

At that point, he checked in. “Quinn. They weren’t carrying much. I’m hanging above the window four floors up.”

“We’ve got your location,” Quinn said. “We should be in position shortly.”

Two hours later, another three-man team showed up.

“Now, Pax,” Quinn directed.

Pax pushed off the wall, released some line, and rappelled in through the window. He shot two terrorists but let the third escape through the door. He heard the scuffle as Moss took him down. They now had someone to interrogate.

Instead of taking him to their hotel, they took him to an abandoned office building. Moss discovered it in his exploration. It was an even more rundown area than where their hotel was.

The captive, now stripped to his underwear, was in good shape, looked to be in his thirties, brown skin, and an undisguised military bearing.

Moss tied him to an interior column in the parking garage. Then Moss slipped off to secure his section of the building. Quinn and River were already at their lookout posts.

Pax strolled up to the man and switched off the camo setting of his light armor. It reverted to its natural black.

“I won’t tell you anything,” the man said with some confidence.

“You won’t have to,” Pax answered and moved to within five feet of the man. Pax let out a long breath and dropped into the qi field so that his presence could connect with the terrorist’s energy.

Then he asked, “Are there twenty or more of you?”

The energy return was, ‘Yes.’

Pax continued to ask yes-no questions until he had some idea of what they were up against. To Pax’s mild disappointment, Colonel Thompson wasn’t the informant.

They left the terrorist tied to the column, injecting him first with a sedative, and headed for their hotel. Dawn was breaking, and it was time to do a quick debrief, eat, sleep, and prepare for the enemy’s next move.

They gathered in Pax and Moss’ room to debrief and eat. Sgt. Murphy supplied the food and drinks.

Quinn began, “There were twenty-five men and women on the team they sent to Aberdeen – minus the six Pax took out. They were on schedule for a coup until we showed up. The two teams we took down were pulled from their primary targets – a couple of politicos they couldn’t bribe or blackmail. So it is probable they will hold off on implementing their plan until after we are neutralized, because they don’t know how much we know.”

Moss smiled, “We could report what we know to Colonel Thompson. Once he made his report, everybody would know.”

Murphy snorted, “REMFs don’t get operational security.”

“It’s the nature of bureaucracy,” Quinn said. “They have reports to file. It’s what they do. And what we do, or need to do, is find the staging location for all the enemy’s teams. Our informant wasn’t too clear on that.”

Pax added, “It is in this general area but not in Old Town. I got the impression it was in an office space of one of the business people they subverted. The captive hadn’t been there, but he knew the general location.”

“When was the coup supposed to start?” asked River.

“In a couple of days. There wasn’t a firm start time.”

“Which gives us time to narrow down where their rally point is,” Quinn observed. “We’ll start tonight. Normal watch schedule. Pax, you’ll take care of yourself and hold the last watch.”

They nodded and began to move. Murphy interrupted.

“What about me, Quinn?”

“Sorry, sergeant. I assumed you would just hang out and keep us company. Is there anything you think you should do?”

“Prep a strike team, maybe. Bring in protection for the people those dirt bags are targeting. You know, shit like that.”

River chuckled as she passed the sergeant on her way to her room. She patted him on the shoulder and said, “Not needed, Murphy, but it’s good of you to suggest it.”

Murphy bristled, “We’re five against at least nineteen bad guys. Back-up would be nice.”

“Nice but not necessary,” Quinn replied as he headed to the room he and Murphy shared.

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