Gods Dogs, Book 3

Even as I have seen, they that plow iniquity, and sow wickedness, reap the same.

Job 4:8

The passenger shuttle operation was an efficient combination of above ground handling of passengers, and below ground handling of the shuttles. The end result was passengers loaded the half-submerged shuttle at the waist to elevators that transported them the decks where they strapped into their seats. Below ground level, the engines were fueled and blast shields and funnels carried the exhaust to reclamation pits deeper underground.

A railway system carried the shuttles to the launch pad. Cranes hoisted them to their vertical positions, and the ground crews prepared them for flight. While in the passenger terminal, the people were scanned, ticketed, and assigned their gates for boarding.

When all was in readiness, the passenger boarded a ground car and began the seating procedure – after, of course, additional checks by security and boarding agents.

It was a tight system, not easily defeated, especially now with the alert to capture or kill the Coyotes. What was also against them was there were no non-Cherts anywhere. Stowing aboard a shuttle was a daunting task. Commandeering a shuttle was out of the question. The team was down to one day to rendezvous with Satya’s shuttle.

“The weak link is during the shuttle transport,” Moss pointed out. “It gets its initial prep. Then they put it on the railcar. It goes for a half-mile or so to the launch pad. During that time, it’s not under observation.”

“Well,” Pax noted, “not under Mark One Eyeball observation. They could have sensors installed.”

“They probably do,” Quinn agreed, “but we should be able to fool those.”

“Yeah, but so what?” River said. “We can’t just hang onto the outside of the ship during the launch.”

“No. We have to get inside,” Moss affirmed. “Are there any maintenance hatches?”

The A.I.s answered that question by throwing up a schematic of the shuttle on their HUDs.

“Not the dumb A.I. compartment,” Moss groaned. “It’s barely big enough for two of us.”

River grinned. “Maybe we can convince their NSAI to make more room.”

“We have to take it over anyway,” Quinn said with a return grin, “so that it can open the hatch to let us out.”

They snuck into the underground network, hopped on a shuttle during its transport stage, slid into the tight space for the NSAI, and River got to work taking it over.

It was a compliant and helpful A.I., and the flight was straightforward. When the shuttle turned for its approach to the space station, the team pushed away from the shuttle on an upward course.

In their light armor, they carried two and a half hours of air. For an hour, they were on a ballistic course to where Satya’s shuttle was supposed to be. At the end of the hour, they sent a directional pulse to that location. There was no return confirmation, as that might give them away in the crowded space above the planet. Caution was mandatory.

Satya’s shuttle found them forty-five minutes later. They climbed across the rear ramp with the crew securing them with lifelines. The hatch closed, and the shuttle maneuvered for its stealth rendezvous with Satya.

Anjevin didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. A week after this second humiliation, the Coyotes were nowhere to be found, the media was still reeling from the fireworks display and the warning. The planetary council of elders and the supreme council of elders were arguing over Solomon’s proposal.

It seemed everyone was bouncing between anger and fear, which was understandable. Having already dealt with Coyotes, Anjevin preferred laughter at this point. The absurdity of the situation was laughable, except for the dead-serious nature of the topic to be decided. He was inclined to accept Solomon’s proposal, if for no other reason than to prevent a third humiliation.

In more sober moments, when he talked with the elders, he pointed out that the age of conquest was ending, either now or in the near future. The issue of what they could do next was an immediate consideration. What he didn’t want was for the Galactic Congress to dictate the terms of the transition.

Most of the elders at least understood the problem. What he saw, though, was the inertia of generations of successful conquest. It appeared they would be carried to defeat and destruction by the momentum of their glorious successes.

The talks went on. The media discussed ‘what does it all mean.’ And a few days later, Anjevin received word the Satya docked at the Accords station. The Coyotes were aboard the cutter and, without fanfare, resumed their duties with the Milky Way delegation.

Anjevin hoped he would not face them across a battlefield, but knew that was wishful thinking. Anger was drowning out fear in the empire. The war drums were sounding. Soon the elders would call for an assembling of the fleet. Within a week, he went from wanting to laugh to wanting to cry.

The year of diplomacy was drawing to a close. A fleet consisting of an Accords Council battlecruiser, two cruisers from the Iracian Hegemony, and two from the Machine Autocracy met at the space station. The battlecruiser would carry Satya and return the A-group that visited the Milky Way to the Accords station.

The other four warships would travel onto the Milky Way to support the Galactic Congress’ bid for a negotiated peace. It was a symbolic gesture as well as a warning to the Chert, Dobal, and Baston. Few, at this point, believed it would make a difference. The three empires seemed committed to the invasion.

Mudark’s team would travel with them. So would OJ Prime’s team and DR Prime and his staff.

Moss and Quinn attended the final meeting of the representatives from all five empires. The energy in the conference room was a formal kind of perfunctory. A ‘let’s get this over with before somebody comes up with something new’ kind of feeling or mood filled the room. So far, though, there was no declaration of war. It was just understood. They all knew fleets were assembling and the preparation for war was fully under way.

After the formal opening of the session, Quinn asked for the floor. Once recognized, he stood and addressed the Chert delegates.

“I visited your homeworld recently. It’s a beautiful planet. I went there to plead for peace. The emperor listened, and I think if he didn’t feel pressure from those around him, he would have pursued the sanity of peace.

“He hasn’t chosen that path, however, and I find it my responsibility to warn you that in two days I will make good on Moss’ promise to burn the Citadel to the ground. I suggest you evacuate the Citadel to prevent loss of life.”

Quinn sat. The Chert members snapped out of the previous lethargy and moved through shock to quickly arrive at anger. They shouted at Quinn, who stared blandly back at them. Soon, though, they calmed down enough for their leader to say, “You are admitting you’ve staged a terrorist attack on the Citadel.”

Quinn answered, “If it was a terrorist attack, I would not have warned you to evacuate. I have no quarrel with the Chert people. I do have a problem with the Chert institutions that make war on innocent worlds.”

“How will this destruction come about?” he demanded.

“Small anti-matter devices will detonate at noon in two days. We planted them when we were there, and they are on a timer. The Citadel will be completely leveled. A smoking crater will be all that remains.”

“This is outrageous,” the Chert ranted.

“You want war, ambassador,” Quinn replied in a level voice. “We will give you a war like you’ve never seen or imagined. As one of our ancient prophets said, ‘For they sow the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.’ I think the meaning is clear. Warn your people, ambassador. The clock is ticking.”

The Chert delegation stormed out, the Dobal and Baston following them and looking nervous.

Nomero, Briju, and Heng were staring at Quinn. Mudark and the androids were also focused on him. Once the others left, Mudark said, “You make terrifying enemies, Coyote Quinn.”

“As well as true and faithful friends. War is so horrible, it must be ended as soon as possible. It is our guiding policy.”

OJ Prime said, “Yet you spare their people. I don’t understand the logic. Killing the people demoralizes a population, and they seek peace more quickly.”

“I said it. Their institutions of conquest, their ideology, those are the enemy. They need to change the mindset or worldview from what it is now to what it could be.”

“Wouldn’t destroying their people hasten that goal?”

“Not really,” Quinn replied. “It would harden them into enemies for generations. Besides, we don’t make war on innocents. That, too, is a guiding policy.”

The meeting broke up, and Heng felt free to speak once the others left.

“You could have warned us.”

Moss grinned at him. “Where is the fun in that?”

Briju said, “Our reports about Coyotes may be understated. You conduct war and diplomacy in unconventional ways.”

“Indeed,” Nomero agreed.

Moss chuckled. “It’s all about leverage, and never about revenge.”

Two days later, Citadel city was no more. There were no lives lost, but Anjevin knew a terrific blow impacted Chert prestige and self-confidence.

The smoking hole that used to be the symbol and seat of their power would now be a reminder of their hubris until the radiation levels dropped enough to begin rebuilding.

Anjevin wondered if rebuilding would happen at all. Maybe, if they lost the war, the Congress would demand the ruins remain. Symbols were powerful, and the Coyotes delivered one that rocked the empire.

Fear was oozing back into the elders’ discussions. Bravado was giving way to caution. Their allies were wondering if they were next in line for a Coyote attack. There were rumblings of revolution in the conquered worlds. The collective mood of uncertainty was hardly the way to begin a war. He feared for his people.

The elders, in their caution, held back much of the fleet. Conquered worlds didn’t build or man their own warships. That was the sole purview of the Chert. Therefore, the warships available for the invasion were from the standing defensive fleet. Very few from the fleets spread out to patrol the vast empire were called in. They told themselves they didn’t need a massive fleet, because their weapons were superior.

The Dobal and Baston followed that logic and mustered far fewer warships for each of their contributions to the invasion. Anjevin wondered if it would be enough.

The journey home began. The transfer of delegations in deep space was uneventful. Satya now rode within a Congress battlecruiser. A few months later, the team made it back to Penglai.

The deployment cycle was such that the team was due for stand-down. Not a full retreat, but the partial stand-down where they helped with the instruction of Coyote candidates. They were assigned to the fifth year class.

Living at the monastery, surrounded by masters, monks, nuns, acolytes, and a supportive staff, the team could decompress. Working with the trainers and students, they kept their edge and passed on valuable skills.

Three months later, though, Master Lu called them to his office. Once they were comfortable, seated in the alcove to the left of Lu’s large desk, Lu told them, “The invasion fleet is on its way. ETA is six weeks.”

“We’ve been out of the loop,” Moss said. “What’s the plan?”

“You’ll get a fuller briefing aboard Satya,” Lu said. “There is a grand strategy, and our part in it is crucial.”

Lu shifted in his chair, gazed out at the distant mountains draped in quiet clouds, and went on, “Thanks to Tulku Raina, we have a superior stealth system and rapid fire energy weapons. Also, thanks to one of her ideas, we have torpedoes in the nuclear explosive formed projectile category that our manned bombers can use for both attack and defense.”

River smiled. “She was busy the whole time we were deployed.”

Lu smiled in reply. “She has given us an edge we plan to exploit. Your part in that is a boarding operation.”

“The stealth is that good?” Pax asked.

“We believe so, as we plan to board all their ships.”

“How many ships are there?” Quinn asked.

“Close to five thousand.”

Moss pointed out, “We don’t have that many Coyote teams.”

“Amazonia will commit their Badb Catha, their Raven teams. Between the two of us, we can manage most of the capital ships. Marines from the League and the Congress SpecOps teams and their marines will handle the rest.”

“Wow,” Moss exclaimed. “Even if it fails, the fleet will be disorganized enough to make it easy pickings for our fleet.”

“That’s the thinking. We will have to wait for them to get here, drop out of Rip space when they hit the galactic halo, but we have a good idea where that will be. Therefore, we’re beginning our deployment.”

Moss sighed and said, “I’m wondering why so few ships. Five thousand is a lot, but each of the empires should be able to field that many all by themselves.”

“Agreed. It seems they neither trust their neighbors, nor do they trust their conquered worlds not to rebel. They apparently do trust they have sufficient, and more advanced weaponry, to defeat our defending force.”

“How many ships do we have?” River wondered.

“Throughout the galaxy, counting the warships from various planets or confederations of planets, it’s something on the order of 25,000 warships, and probably four or five times that in support ships. The Congress and the League are committing a total of four thousand warships, not including the cutters we’ll be using for the boarding operation.”

“What about the chain of command?” Quinn asked.

“Master Chin will be in overall command of the SpecOps and marine boarding attempt. Rand, Wylie, and Belinda Morrison and another Amazonian, will be the field commanders. There are also marine officers and SpecOps teams to command their people.”

“Wow,” Moss said again.

Lu went on, “You’ll leave today. Chin is already at the staging area. You’ll report to him or Rand when you arrive.”

He gave Quinn a data cube. “Here are your orders. Good hunting.”