Gods Dogs, Book 3
Chapter 47

If I had chosen the populist course, it would have been a breach of the trust placed in me by the people.

Narendra Modi

The three Penglai cutters released the drones that would search for the encrypted signal that identified insurgent communications. There were twenty-one drones, and they each flew a different orbit to gain maximum coverage. Then the teams waited at the space station above Rhodlast.

Pax came out of the healing tank without fanfare. He spent two days in a recovery room as they checked him over. Then he started rehab.

The team was in the training room on Satya: Pax, on a treadmill; River, stretching on the mat; Moss, pumping iron; and Quinn, on a rowing machine.

“I think this is my last mission,” Pax announced. “It’s time for me to retire.”

“What brought this on?” Moss shot back.

“I’ve slowed a step or two. That fight with the cyborg showed me that.”

“I watched the helmet-cam footage,” Quinn said. “You were dealing with three opponents when the cyborg shot you in the back.”

“Yes. I reviewed it as well. It took me too long to handle those three. The shot to the back shouldn’t have happened. It’s time to retire.”

River said, “It sounds like you’ve made up your mind, Pax.”

“I have. Almost thirty years in the field is long enough.”

“What will you do next?” River asked. She could feel Pax’s resolve, and in feeling it, agreed with it. He knew he was done with this chapter of his life and was ready to move on.

“Become an empath trainer,” Pax answered. “I would like to research some things as well.”

“Sounds boring,” Moss observed.

Pax smiled. “Different kind of excitement.”

Quinn quickly adjusted to Pax’s announcement. Pax and Moss were older than he was; Pax, the oldest. He was a contemporary of Rand and Wylie, and they were now retired. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that Pax was next.

Pax went on, “I’ve been ready to retire for a while, but the losses we incurred at the battle at galaxy’s edge kept me active. I didn’t want us to be short-handed.”

“So, now is the time?” Moss countered. “Other than losing you, I’m not looking forward to breaking in a newbie.”

River piped up, “Maybe we could poach Jian.”

Moss chuckled. “You have a devious mind. She would be easier to break in that you were, at any rate.”

“Hey! I was chosen because I could tolerate you, Moss.”

“Likely story,” Moss dismissed. Then he said, “I don’t adapt to change as well as others do. So, let me hang out in my resentment until I’m done.”

Quinn said, “You can be Pax’s sparring partner. That might help, and he needs the work.”

They finished their daily workout and met with the others for lunch at the nearby cafeteria. The station layout was similar to the others, as it was a standard, if uninspired, design. They and their cutters were in the League restricted section, which was one-third of the fat, donut style station.

McIntire joined them for lunch. He seemed to prefer their company over the marshals he supervised.

After he settled in, he said, “The mapping of the insurgents communication is taking a while. The geeks are plotting the feeds from Satya, and the station marshal is setting up observations posts at the suspected-so-far nodes-sites.”

“How many?” Rob asked.

“Right now, ten.”

“That fits,” Jolene said. “This group is more loosely organized, more horizontal than vertical.”

Moss put in, “It will also make for a more difficult take-down. What’s the plan for that?”

McIntire answered, “We need to use the police on the planet.”

Rob jumped in, “One of us, probably a three-man team of marshals, and LEOs to back us up.”

“Something like that,” McIntire said as he sampled his sandwich. “The marshals here trust the LEOs. This planet is actively resisting the insurgency. That’s why there are more terrorist attacks. Local law enforcement wants these guys more than we do.”

“Well, that’s a nice change,” Moss allowed, “but it creates the new problem of revenge killing. How well-trained are the LEOs?”

“I’ll check,” McIntire said. “I suspect it’s uneven. Each of the ten comm-nodes we’ve identified is in a different city.”

“Any reports of cyborgs?” Sonny asked.

“No, but some of the terrorist attacks make better sense if you assume either a cyborg or someone in heavy armor.”

Then he added, “These are serious, dedicated bad guys. They long for a strongman dictatorship. They are tribal throwbacks who feel they cannot compete or survive in the modern world. We run into this all the time, from crime bosses to industry CEOs. The strongman leading the people to the promised land is an ingrained archetype. Populism, though, is the enemy of democracy.”

River observed, “Thanks for what you do, marshal. I wouldn’t want that job.”

“Yeah,” McIntire smiled in embarrassment, “it’s not fun sometimes.”

It ended up being eleven sites in eleven different cities. Three-man teams of marshals staked out each one, recorded the coming and going of the people, and developed profiles on those people they viewed as suspects.

As predicted, it took weeks to piece together the insurgent cell structure into a coherent whole. Those weeks allowed Pax the time to train, which he did in a relentless way. Physical training in the morning that included one-on-one sparring, two and three-on-one sparring, unarmed weapons defense, weapons offense, and form training. Afternoons were on the simulated firing range, or in simulated combat training, which now included cyborgs.

When he started to peak in his training, he slowed it down by replacing the morning routine with cardio, yoga, and low weight – high repetition weight training.

The other Coyotes showed up as sparring partners or joining in on the battle simulations. Pax, though, didn’t tell them he was retiring. They didn’t need the distraction, and, truth be told, the others didn’t need to know.

His team did, and he saw it as his duty to inform them. Major changes in one’s life took a while to incorporate. The human ego-system preferred stability, consistency, predictability, and routine. When this was the norm, paradoxically, dealing with the unknown was easier.

The one hiccup in the six-week waiting period was the marshals knew about a terrorist attack from the decrypted data they were gathering, and they let it happen. The reasoning was their surveillance operation would be blown if they interrupted the terrorist attack.

The Coyotes, when they found out about it, disagreed and argued for a response. The marshals said no. The loss of a few for the greater good of bringing down the whole network was an acceptable loss.

The Coyotes couldn’t over-rule the decision, because it wasn’t their operation. They were technically observers. They did give McIntire a piece of their mind, though.

The senior marshal routinely joined them for lunch, and Moss was the first to express his opinion.

“Well, Billy, I’m disappointed,” Moss began as McIntire joined the table with his food tray. “We can stop a terrorist attack, and you’re letting it happen. The logic is sound – operation security, but it’s a flawed premise.”

“I know,” McIntire replied.

That surprised them, and Jian was the first to recover. “You know, but you can’t oppose the station marshals. Is that it?”

“You got it,” he said with a sigh. “I can’t set up an us-and-them dynamic. OpSec trumps civilian losses.”

Jolene countered, “Doing the right thing engages synchronicity.”

“I know that, too, but the police mentality is more conservative. In truth, it doesn’t like synchronicity or trust it.”

Jian observed, “That’s why Nolan didn’t like what I did.”

“Yes. His report – the first draft, anyway – was a condemnation of your actions. It didn’t follow acceptable protocols.”

“It got the job done,” Moss pointed out.

McIntire put his sandwich down and leaned back in his chair. “Look. I get it. Belinda Morrison and I have been close for years. I helped her set up the Raven program. I get your mindset. I even agree with it, but it relies on your ability to adapt to a changing battlefield. No one else can adapt the way you do. You saw that with Nolan. He followed along at a cautious pace, while worrying that the sky would fall in at any moment.”

Pax summarized, “They need structure to overcome their fear of death.”

“Exactly.”

Rob said, “So a bunch of civilians die in a preventable terrorist attack to preserve their structure, their battle plan.”

“In essence, yes. They see it as an acceptable loss to insure a final victory. It’s a battle calculus we debate in marshal training.”

Quinn put in, “I saw this in the war. The choice to engage was dictated by strategic objectives. That’s at odds with our choice to engage, which is typically to do the ‘right’ thing in the moment.”

McIntire smiled a slow, sad smile. His rugged face became more vulnerable. “I know, Quinn, but you can make that work. The rest of us can’t.”

“I realized that in the war,” Quinn went on. “River and I were sitting in a cave wondering what to do about a civil war when we were freeing each planet in the empire. She suggested we free all the political prisoners in the concentration camps worldwide. We did and it broke that empire world’s back.”

Jolene put in, “I remember that op.”

“When I reflected on it later,” Quinn continued, “it became apparent only Coyote-trained people would have come up with such a scheme, and then pull it off. We aren’t normal people, William. I get that. I also get that you need to work within the limitations you have. It is frustrating, though. Please, don’t let our frustration damage our relationship.”

McIntire leaned forward to engage with his sandwich. “I’m frustrated, too, Quinn. I argued to turn you guys loose on them and see what happened. It didn’t fly. To say the least, it didn’t fly.”

Moss chuckled. “Did you record it? I’d like to see that discussion.”

The rest of them relaxed and laughed at how that conversation probably went – horrified marshals sputtering at the thought of Coyotes running amok, destroying their carefully laid plans and contingency plans.

Jian interrupted, “I’ll want a memorial plaque or something for those who die.”

“I’ll see to it,” McIntire promised.

When the operation got underway, it was as Rob imagined it: one Coyote ‘observer,’ a three-man team of marshals, typically the team that was the primary surveillance team, and local law enforcement SWAT teams for backup and muscle.

The day chosen was when the insurgents made their weekly reports to each other. It was when most were on-site. LEOs would pick up the ones that weren’t.

Since it was a worldwide operation, the time zones were an issue for the eleven sites. With twelve Coyotes, one Coyote could be free as a rover. Pax offered to be the rover. He claimed his recent injury and rehab put him below 100%, so it only made sense for him to be in a backup role.

Once those details were worked out, the marshal teams and the assigned Coyote began training in simulators that were configured to represent each distinct site – home, office, warehouse, and so on. The LEO component was simulated as they planned to include them at the last minute – OpSec.

On the day of the operation, Pax boarded an attack shuttle with a squad of station marines. They headed toward the planet to circle in low orbit and wait to be called into action.

Satya reconfigured her comm-drones to handle the communication among the teams on the ground and the station. She routed it through Pax’s shuttle, which was one of Satya’s shuttles and carried her advanced A.I. presence.

The eleven teams boarded drop ships and coordinated their arrival at the eleven sites. An hour before they touched down, marshals would alert the local police to request assistance. With all the boxes checked, the structure was in place, and the operation began.