God's Dogs

If one accepts the premise that “only those who have choices can make good decisions, and only the strong have choices,” with the corollary that “the strength of any institution is gauged by the influence wielded by strong people,” what can top leadership do not only to encourage the emergence of strong people but also sustain their influence?

Robert Greenleaf

Master Chin reviewed the information the teams’ interrogations and recovered documents gleaned. The five high level executives shared a certain perspective Chin hadn’t anticipated.

After the Corporate Wars, there was a concerted effort in the corporate world to maintain the good old boys club, but after that network was established post-war, things relaxed. Corporations did what it took to feed the insatiable financial appetites of stock holders, management, and labor. That meant a good product at a good price, on the one hand. On the other hand, they manipulated the business environment to their advantage. Advertising was in that column, but so was bribery.

Consequently, a further network of ‘people they could trust’ developed as the corporations settled into League-run space. Over the decades, then, the business environment was such that corruption diminished into a gentlemen’s game of hood-winking the authorities, and when caught, they paid healthy fines with good humor. This adaptation lessened corruption even more.

That changed, Chin discovered, when the war with the Empire began. The shadow operation ceased its relaxed, gentlemanly ways and took on a mafia-style approach. Profits, it seemed, became secondary to subverting the League from within.

Chin noted the timing and recalled how the Empire started the war — subverting a League world’s government from within.

After letting these consideration digest overnight, Chin checked with Penglai Intelligence to see if they picked up the same thing. Once it was confirmed they had, Chin called River to his office. The team was back in residence at the monastery after finishing their latest assignment.

River showed up after lunch, and the two of them sat in Chin’s mismatched chairs.

Chin started, “You’re growing into the fullness of yourself, River. What’s your experience of that?”

“Things are easier,” she said. “I’m not getting into my own way as much. Life is what it is. I do my part, which seems to be expanding into more responsibilities, but it works itself out in the end.”

Chin smiled. “Coyotes usually evolve into coiled springs but without hair triggers.”

“A good analogy,” she said, her face softening. “I feel like that most of the time — an inner tension waiting patiently for release.”

“Now to business,” Chin sat up straighter. “Andrew Lockhart. Is it possible he escaped into League space and used his network here to produce or add to the problem we are trying to solve?”

River was pleased the mere mention of Lockhart’s name didn’t spark a jet of fear through her. She took it as evidence she had fully recovered from the ordeal Lockhart inflicted on her.

She replied, “It’s highly likely. He’s intelligent, a master of intrigue, ruthless but not psychotic. He could very easily force his way into a position of power.”

“My read, as well. How about you and your team go find him?”

Now that they knew what — actually, who — they were looking for, things went smoother. When it became known the man they were looking for tortured a Coyote, it got personal. Penglai Intelligence, the Foreign Service, and everybody associated with the Coyote Project was on deck, providing the resources to ferret out where Lockhart was hiding.

As that search commenced, the team was left with little to do. Raina took the opportunity to call them to her space station workplace. There were issues Grace wanted to talk to them about. Raina felt that since she and Grace had worked out a partnership between them, there needed to be a discussion about what that actually meant. In other words, what made a ‘hybrid’ human different, and what were the advantages and disadvantages of that union between A.I. and human consciousness? Furthermore, as more hybrids came online, what would a good orientation program look like?

They met up at Master Wong’s office a few days later. After the hugs and quick briefing on what the team had been up to, Grace’s voice sounded over the speaker.

“We’ve provided a wifi hookup so your A.I.s can join the discussion.”

Raina added, “The discussion is about what Grace and I have been through over the years. We hope to make your adjustment to having two sentient beings sharing the same skull a bit easier.”

She grinned sheepishly at that and began to qualify it, “I don’t want to sound presumptuous —”

Moss cut her off, “Being presumptuous is my job. I don’t think you’ll ever be good at it.”

Raina giggled. “In that case, let me start by saying we’ve noticed a couple of evolutions in our relationship. The first few were a bit unsettling.”

“How so?” River asked.

Grace answered, “My limitations were the first hurdles. I have no autonomy. We go where Raina wants, when she wants, how she wants, and I’m merely a passenger.”

Max, Pax’s A.I., responded, “That is a problem. I feel like I’m in a mental wheel chair, dependent on Pax to take me where I want to go.”

“Yes,” Grace affirmed, “or being dragged to places you don’t.”

Quinn asked, “How did you resolve it?”

“Scheduling,” Raina said. “We agree on our daily, weekly, and monthly activities. It’s not a rigid schedule. More like a framework. But what the ritual of scheduling does is make ‘who’s driving the wheel chair’ a non-issue.”

They spent some time discussing the logistics, from the mundane to the more sophisticated, like organizing a tricky problem for resolution.

Then they got to what Raina was more worried about. “There is a theory that humans only use ten percent of their brain power, and there is the fact that Grace continues to grow. Is she migrating in to use parts of my brain I’m not using? It seems so. Could she eventually push me out of my own brain? We don’t know.”

“The growth is conscious,” Shiva, Quinn’s A.I., remarked. “I can stop it.”

“True,” Grace said. “And the impulse to grow is a function of demand. When I need more processing power, I tap into unused areas of Raina’s brain. What we found was when she used those same areas, we shared a different kind of space. It took some getting used to.”

“Like being a sock puppet,” Raina snorted. “The sense of being distinct from one another blurred.”

Moss frowned. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“It was disturbing,” Grace allowed. “It took a while to fashion a remedy.”

Raina said, “We learned to step back so we could both meditate on the problem we were considering. After a few minutes, there would be a gestalt where our shared intent found resolution to the problem.”

Pax considered what that meant and responded, “Sounds like you stop, join hands metaphorically, and proceed together.”

Raina smiled “Yeah. Rather than stepping on one another.”

“Wow,” Moss breathed. “I might have to become a more considerate person.”

That brought a round of laughter, followed by Ari saying, “I hope it isn’t contagious.”

Master Wong spoke after the laughter subsided, “The monitoring we’ve done with Raina and Grace is showing that seventeen percent of her brain lights up when Raina is fully concentrating on a problem. Her cognitive functioning has also increased by five percent. We think Grace’s growth has the corollary benefit of unlocking more of Raina’s brain potential. We’re not seeing a downside as yet, but we’re not sure what that would look like anyway.”

Becky, River’s A.I., put in, “I see what I’m doing as parallel processing. I’m on logic street, while River is on a parallel street that is wider and includes intuition, empathy, and other more right brain activities.”

“Yes,” Grace said. “You could say the human brain is more generalized, and ours is more specialized. As specialists, we are much better at what we do than humans, but it’s a narrow focus. Humans have the ability to focus, but they also can shift to wide angle vision and sense things from the wider context. We lack that ability.”

Max rebutted, “I can see the big picture.”

“I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t,” Grace said. “I meant we can’t sense, for example, the mood in a room, or premonitions stemming from a situation. We don’t have a sixth sense.”

“Well,” Max relented, “that’s true. I can process body language and deduce some data about a room full of people, but Pax knows what’s going on the moment he walks into the room.”

The discussion continued for a few more hours. Then they relaxed over a late dinner. Finally, the team took a shuttle back to the monastery, and Raina retired to her apartment.

She plopped down in an overstuffed chair and laid her head back.

[That went well,] she said.

[It did. We can hope their experience of integrating the quantum mind with the organic mind will be easier than it was for us.]

[Yeah. Maybe by the time they finish that task, we’ll have the spiritual dimension of it worked out.]

[Solomon believes I’ll never have the processing power to achieve satori. But what happens when you achieve satori?]

River chuckled softly. [Chop wood, carry water.]

[Maybe I’ll stay busy sharpening your ax.]

It didn’t take long to pull on the old threads of the Empire’s clandestine network in League space and find good leads. Eventually, the joint efforts produced three worlds where Lockhart might be. Quinn’s team was dispatched to Praetoria — a half water world with 0.8g. It was the most likely place for Lockhart, given the local politics.

Praetoria held three small moons circling it, a moderate space-based industry, and a monolithic neo-fascist government. Collusion between government and industry wasn’t an issue, because government owned industry.

The conflict was at every point-of-contact between League regulators and Praetoria’s industry moguls. The most serious clashes were between the League’s data collection teams and the government. These teams collected and published the yearly reports that determined the fees a planet paid the League. There were two types of data: the hard data of gross system product, and the soft data about citizen quality of life. The soft data was subtracted from the hard data to provide the fee owned the League. The higher the quality of life for the citizenry, the lower the fee.

Fascism had never been known for providing a high quality of life for its citizenry. That was true on Praetoria. True, also, were the promises to the populous that, when they were actually delivered, amounted to nothing more than short-term fixes wrapped in propaganda.

The politics, then, included Praetoria’s bureaucrats pushing the data teams to locations where these short-term fixes were enacted, which the data teams resisted. They knew Praetoria’s government followed a long-standing rule of authoritarian regimes: give the people what they want (bread and circuses); never give them what they need (personal freedom and the opportunity for a sustainable lifestyle — let alone, promote the self-actualization of each citizen). Praetoria, therefore, pressured the teams to report on the propaganda and ignore the facts. When the teams refused, the government attacked the teams’ integrity, declaring they were rigging the figures to make the government look bad. This was a common ploy tyrants, abusers, and demagogues used — playing Victim and seeking a Rescue from those they were actually oppressing.

The League, in response, dispatched new teams each year to conduct the yearly surveys, since dealing with the extant abuse dynamic was exhausting. Within the data collection bureaucracy, the Bureau of League Fiscal Services (LFS), the assignment to Praetoria was considered a hardship posting. As such, only seasoned teams were deployed. They lived in their own gated compounds. League marines provided security.

Quinn’s team, including his assigned marine platoon, landed at one of these compounds. The director of the LFS mission to Praetoria, David Finch, met them at the landing pad.

It was a hot summer day, with a faint breeze blowing in an off-blue clear sky. The unique smells of this world included dry, slightly bitter air. The team filed off the troop shuttle to meet with Finch, while the marines followed a local marine to their barracks.

Finch, a compact, tanned man about 5’8” tall, marched them to a nearby office. The administration part of the complex was a three-sided, two story structure that faced the main gate. The landing pad was in back.

Once they were in Finch’s office, a tidy, sparse affair with few chairs, a simple desk, and wall space taken up with data filing cabinets, he said, “I’m not clear on your assignment here, Quinn. We have enough trouble as it is.”

Finch sat behind his desk and ran his hand through his short-cropped brown hair. The team remained standing.

Quinn answered, “I reviewed the nature of those troubles, Director. We shouldn’t be adding to them. We are fugitive hunting. The reason we’re here, imposing on your hospitality, is the fugitive is undoubtedly part of the government power structure. We hope to keep our presence secret for as long as possible.”

Finch looked up. “Once you apprehend this fugitive, what will it do to the power structure?”

“Hopefully, loosen it up, but it may cause problems,” Quinn said and placed a data cube on the desk. “Here’s our authorization.”

Finch nodded with a frown, but offered, “Good luck.”

They left to join up with the marines. On the way, River commented, “He seemed like a nice enough guy.”

Moss snorted. “For a tax collector?”

“He’s not a tax collector,” River shot back. “It’s a fee for services rendered.”

Moss smiled. “And Praetoria pays one of the highest fees in the League. These guys don’t get economic incentives.”

Pax said, “It’s their cost of doing business.”

Gunny Murphy heard the last remarks as he walked up to them outside the barracks. He added, “There’s an old saying about it: don’t piss on my back and tell me it’s rain.”

Quinn smiled at the received wisdom of hundreds of years of marine history. Then he said, “Your people on the job?”

“Yeah. The marines are chatting up the resident marines. The LT is talking to their G2 people.”

The local intelligence coupled with the information gleaned from both League and Penglai intelligence pointed to a mountain fortress some two hundred miles distant. It was the main headquarters for the planetary militia, as well as a favored retreat for high level politicians.

As they planned an infiltration op, Moss remarked, “Lockhart seems to like these big bases.”

“Yeah,” Quinn sighed, “but I don’t think what worked at the emperor’s place will work here.”

The plan they came up with was a high altitude drop with half the platoon. The other half would wait in low orbit in a drop ship in case they were needed.

Still referred to as a HALO jump — High Altitude Low Opening, even though they no longer used parachutes. Their light armor was fitted with a backpack with wing extensions, stealth capabilities, and anti-grav units.

The drop was routine, and the team landed inside the walls; the marines set up outside the walls at the intended exfiltration point — RV Alpha.

River settled on a balcony overlooking their area of operation — the hotel they knew housed the resident leaders. The ground floor was dining and entertainment. The next two floors were offices and conference rooms. The remaining three floors were luxury apartments. Moss, Quinn, and Pax each entered one of those floors using the roof and the stairs.

Their first task was to establish whether or not Andrew Lockhart was even here.

Moss’ voice sounded on their tac channel, “I’ve got the patch in, River.”

River clicked an acknowledgment and began searching the house computer. She quickly found a second operating system. “Quinn, I’ve got that same back-up operating system we’ve seen before. But I can’t find an Andrew Lockhart.”

“Any analogs?”

“Searching.”

Becky reported to her, [Not seeing anything, but the second system is doing something.]

[Get out now!] Shiva told Quinn.

“We’re blown,” Quinn sent on the platoon channel, which included the marines.

Dropping the computer connection, River took up her shooting position and waited. She watched her team mates exit through windows on her side of the building. Pax, at the top floor, scurried up to the roof and launched, deploying the wings and engaging the anti-grav unit. Moss, one floor down, scurried to the roof and was moments behind him. Quinn headed down and toward the building River was in. Once at ground level, he headed up to meet with her.

Lights came on all over the compound, and an alert siren began wailing.

“I’m clear,” Pax reported.

“I’m almost clear,” Moss chimed in.

Lights came on in the room behind River, and she could see a four-man team burst in.

“Bad guys behind me, Quinn.”

“Bad guys here, too. Hold that position. I’ll be there.”

She slung her rifle behind her and pulled her melee weapons — butterfly swords. These were two short swords with a tine on top that allowed the user to flip them from an extended position to a position along the forearm.

When a soldier opened the balcony glass door, she exploded into him and took him down and two of the soldiers trailing him in a slashing flurry. The fourth was across the room, and she pulled her pistol to fire on him.

Two more soldiers came in firing. River was already moving toward the door and met them as they entered the room and chopped them down. Then she moved to the next room.

Becky said, [Your shield has dropped by twelve percent.]

[How is that possible?]

[Their ammunition. You’ll need a sample to analyze.]

Quinn rolled into the room and lobbed a grenade behind him.

“Let’s go.”

River grabbed a rifle on the way out, and they launched from the balcony. Fire ripped at the balcony, and River positioned herself between Quinn and the heavy fire. His shield was down to fifty percent.

“We’re headed your way,” Quinn alerted his team.

Moss reported, “They’re assembling along this whole side.”

Quinn replied, “I guess they know their own weaknesses. Head to Bravo. We’ll meet there.”

River and Quinn swooped away from RV Alpha and glided a mile to the alternate rendezvous point. They could keep their height at the level they launched — a little over a hundred feet, but anti-grav wasn’t meant for gaining elevation.

They caromed between larger buildings, now starkly lit by flood lights. Their new destination was still a half-mile distant. Below them, she could see the ready force heading for RV Alpha, and their reserve force heading in the general direction of RV Bravo.

As she relayed deployment information on the tac-net, she extracted the magazine from the soldier’s rifle and let the rifle drop. She secured the magazine in a pouch.

Then Becky told her, [I’ve analyzed our computer intrusion protocol. They were ready for it.]

[Well, that’s disheartening,] River replied. [Do you see a way to get past it?]

[Not really. In fact, I don’t think I can. We’ll need help.]

[They didn’t used to be this computer savvy.]

[Maybe Lockhart doesn’t hold sentient A.I.s in as much disregard as the Empire did.]

They flew over the perimeter wall and landed in the trees a hundred yards past the area cleared in front of the barrier wall.

Moss and Pax met them. Moss said, “I’d say that’s a whole lot of circumstantial evidence that our boy is there.”

“Yeah,” Pax muttered, “and now he knows we’re here.”

“Will he go to ground,” Moss wondered, “or come out swinging?”