God's Dogs Book 2

I can’t think in terms of journalism without thinking in terms of political ends. Unless there’s been a reaction, there’s been no journalism. It’s cause and effect.

Hunter S. Thompson

The media was the first to strike. A multi-species group of reporters, along with their hovering camera drones, arrived the next morning to interview the visiting delegation that somebody tried to blow up.

Consul Singh and his aides met them outside the living quarters the delegation was assigned. Moss went with them.

The rest of them were in the building’s cafeteria, where Quinn addressed them.

“We will need your help to keep you safe,” he told the assemblage. “The primary danger will be the enemy catching you alone. Go everywhere in at least pairs. If someone insists on getting you alone, alert us.”

Quinn paused to assess the reaction of the crowd to his orders. Then he continued, “I’m not treating you like children. The fact is, the only attack the enemy can mount right now is some form of either a hostage situation or killing us off one by one. Staying in pairs or small groups makes it harder for them, and we will only be seconds away from wherever you are.”

The crowd’s mood softened, and the people began murmuring their assent to Quinn’s instructions.

“Thank you,” Quinn told them. “Have a good conference.”

Then he retreated to check on the media circus. Singh caught Quinn’s arrival out of the corner of his eye and said, “Our security chief can better answer that question.”

Quinn stepped next to Singh. “What question?”

A reporter in the front row of the group of ten asked, “The attacks on your delegation seem quite sophisticated, wouldn’t you say?”

“No. I’d say they were clumsy.”

“How so?”

“Our species is skilled at war. The attackers were not as skilled in either their strategy or tactics. We took their warship away from them, and we shot down the missile they fired at us here.”

Another reporter asked, “Are you a Coyote? If so, what does that designation mean?”

Quinn answered, “I work security for Penglai Foreign Service.”

“But are you a Coyote?”

“Next question.”

A different reporter asked, “What are you doing to keep the delegation safe now?”

“I’ll let you know that after the conference is over. Maybe.”

The reporter spoke over the chuckles of his comrades, “Then what about the investigation on the attacks?”

“My understanding is it’s being carried out by the proper authorities.”

Singh reasserted control by saying, “That’s all the time we have. Call us if you need further information.”

Then he turned to leave.

Pax was closest to the call for help when it came later that day.

The conference complex was neatly laid out with the main facility at the center of a periphery of housing units, restaurants, and retail stores. The main facility could support five conferences at the same time, each with a main hall, eight smaller break-out rooms, and a large open area for informal get-togethers. The building design was domes, curve-roofed long buildings, spires to note each of the five separate conference locations, and gentle walkways lined with hedges leading to the outer ring.

The call pinged on Pax’s HUD as coming from a point halfway between the main facility and the delegation’s housing. Pax engaged the camo feature of his light armor and sprinted to the location.

Two humans were fighting to keep from getting pulled into a hover van. Pax couldn’t identify the species of the attackers, but the three he could see were humanoid.

At ten yards from the struggle, Pax launched himself over the heads of the humans and into the bodies of the ones in the van. As he passed over the humans’ heads, Pax landed an uppercut style punch to the base of the skull of the humanoid pushing the two into the van. That attacker collapsed as Pax collided with the other two.

The humans jumped back and stared. Pax shouted, “Run!”

They did just that as a flash-bang grenade went off in the van. Pax triggered his shield too late. The two bad guys, who were apparently ready for the flash-bang, jumped out of the van, grabbed their partner, and ran toward the shopping area.

Then the van accelerated straight up, stalled, and plummeted straight down. When it hit the ground, it crumpled into an unrecognizable mess.

Moss arrived next and sprinted after the bad guys. River and Quinn were a few seconds behind, and they started tearing the van apart. Pax’s vital signs showed he was alive but seriously injured.

Pax became aware of his surroundings as he moved through a tunnel. A bright light greeted him at the end of the tunnel. The light shifted to become a glowing humanoid figure, and it spoke.

“It is not your time to die. You need to go back to your body.”

That made sense, Pax thought as he remembered his last few moments. The partial shielding probably saved him, but not enough to avoid serious injury.

The light-being spoke to his thoughts, “There are heroic medical procedures going on, but you will die if you do not return to your body.”

Then Pax felt the warm peacefulness of this anteroom to the hereafter. All the tension he didn’t know he was carrying released. He had never felt this content and at-peace in his life.

He asked, “Do I have a choice?”

“Always.”

“I would much prefer to stay here.”

“The tasks you do not complete this lifetime will require that you reincarnate so they are completed.”

Pax chuckled. “I know how to traverse the bardos.”

“And what would you do? Bring relief to those in hell? Rest for a while in the Buddha-lands? You have taken the bodhisattva vow. You would hold yourself to making sure everyone achieves enlightenment no matter what realm of Creation you were in.”

“Well, when you put it that way, the choice is simple. I need to go back.”

He drifted then in the peaceful atmosphere of this place, and his life flashed through him. Masanobu Fukuoka, an early advocate for the ‘nature’s approach’ to developing the land, was one of Pax’s ancestors. As such, Pax’s life on the farms and ranches well south of Shentong Temple were rich moments in nature that he now saw as still-shot memories: riding horses, helping his mother pick berries, pursuing llamas during round-up with his uncle, waking up to the morning sun and fresh smells of Spring. He also reviewed moments in his Coyote training, his early assignments, and the shared affection of his current team.

Finally, he felt the pull from his body and fell back into it. Since it was in a regeneration tank, once Pax came under the body’s influence, he lost consciousness.

Moss was only able to snag the injured kidnapper, because the other two abandoned him. Even so, the blow Pax landed was a fore-knuckle punch to the base of the skull. The punch damaged the axis-atlas bones, which connected the spinal column to the skull. With all the jostling around, the kidnapper’s spinal column was severed, and he died.

The Guardian’s forensics team, though, was able to identify him, and that opened up a new line of inquiry. The tech people eventually figured out how the sensors were spoofed, which was another line of inquiry. And, according to Ruski, the VIPs upset by the attacks were throwing support to both lines of inquiry, as well as lighting a fire under the agents on the pirate’s home world.

On the fifth day after they landed, Quinn and Singh met up with Ruski, who called them to a meeting at the nearby spaceport, which also housed the local constabulary. Its number had grown substantially to work the crisis.

The two humans were ushered to a small office where Ruski was. Once the door slid shut, he wasted no time with niceties.

“We’re pretty sure the attack was planned by an element within the Congress SpecOps forces.”

“That’s troubling,” Singh said.

“Very,” Ruski agreed. Then he turned to Quinn. “Remember Commander Ikel?”

“Our point-of-contact the first time we were here,” Quinn said.

“He may not be the leader, but he is involved. He is the one that set up the contract with the pirates and paid them.”

“Probably not the leader, unless it’s a much smaller operation than it seems.”

“Our reasoning as well. The question is, how wide-spread is the effort to sabotage the League’s relations with us?”

Singh interrupted, “And why?”

“Since it’s SpecOps,” Quinn explained, “they are concerned Coyote teams will replace them.”

“A turf war?” Singh asked, incredulous over the stupidity.

“Our race, the Sentic, is very turf conscious,” Ruski told him. “The SpecOps community, in general, is insular and tradition-bound. I don’t believe this sharp departure from our laws and customs is wide-spread, but they are loyal to one another.”

“That will make investigating them a difficult proposition.”

“Why?” Singh asked. “They should be the first to want to clean up their ranks.”

“It’s not Penglai, Siri,” Quinn said.

Singh shook his head and grimaced. “My idealism is showing, isn’t it?”

Quinn nodded.

“The reason I called you here,” Ruski changed the subject, “is we have captured Ikel. Our interrogation of him did not yield anything of value. I would like Pax to interrogate him, but he is still in regen. Do others of your kind have Pax’s empathetic ability?”

“River does,” Quinn said. “She’s as good at reading energy as Pax, and Moss could ask the questions.”

“Very well. May we set this up for tomorrow?”

“That will work.”

The following day, Moss and River arrived at the spaceport. Quinn remained at the convention complex for security.

The interrogation room was a simple table and a few chairs. Recording devices were mounted in all four ceiling corners. Commander Ikel sat on one side of the bare metal table, and Moss and River sat across from him.

“We meet again,” Moss said and grinned at the Sentic commander, who looked a little rough – although, it was hard to tell with a body made up of plates like a rhinoceros.

Ikel didn’t answer, and River said, “He really doesn’t like us.”

Moss went on, “You really don’t like us. Are you afraid we might replace you?”

River spoke for the commander by reading his emotional response, “Yes, but it’s not fear. It’s more bound up in honor.”

“Oh,” Moss exclaimed. “The Congress owes you a debt of honor for faithful service over the centuries, and them courting the League is a form of betrayal.”

“Yes,” River said. “Now he’s feeling a kind of pain that jilted lovers feel.”

“Stop it!” Ikel shouted.

“We will,” Moss assured him, “as soon as you give us your organization.”

“I will not.”

“Let’s come at this from a different angle,” Moss proposed cheerfully. “Your little plot didn’t work. You are merely the first to get caught. It’s all over, except for the bargaining on who goes to jail and who doesn’t.”

“Now the poor guy is confused, Moss. You know, that place where he’s wondering, ‘How could it all go so bad?’ And there’s some self-pity, too.”

“Stop it!” Ikel demanded again. “Just stop it. You, Coyotes, will see the end of us. You are warlike and move with ease in all the realms of Creation. You can destroy our civilization.”

“We probably could,” Moss allowed. “We’ve certainly done that to ourselves. The people of Penglai are descendants of conquered and exploited humans. We know the danger you have correctly identified. We know it with genocidal certainty.”

River’s facial expression changed, and Moss took that to mean she was picking up genuine surprise from Ikel.

Moss went on, “The League’s constitutional structure is designed to prevent a repeat of our past. We defeated the Empire of Man, because it was trying to bring it back. The Coyote Program and others like it exist as a last ditch defense against it. We are well aware of the dark side of human nature.”

“Do you expect me to trust you?” Ikel shot back.

“I don’t give a shit if you trust me or not, commander. At this point, not one of our delegation has been killed. That’s in your favor. Your concern about humans is real – I just confirmed it. That’s in your favor. So the only mistake you made was taking precipitous action without authorization. We won’t seek punitive damages, or call for executions. In fact, we’ll help you come up with a plan to protect yourselves from what humans are capable of.”

The confusion coming off of Ikel was strong enough that Moss could easily read it. He chuckled.

“How about I arrange for you to contact your people to propose a sit-down where we can hammer this out. I can’t guarantee immunity from prosecution, but I can promise we will recommend leniency.”

After a short moment, Ikel grunted out, “That’s acceptable.”