God's Dogs
Chapter 41

Hence that general is skillful in attack whose opponent does not know what to defend; and he is skillful in defense whose opponent does not know what to attack.

Sun Tzu

They came out swinging. Luckily, it took a few days for them to mobilize the attack. In that time, Murphy’s marines analyzed the bullets River brought with her. Then they sent the analysis to Raina with a rush order to come up with a counter to the bullets.

Raina got back to them a day later with adjustments to the shield frequencies. The next day, those adjustments were tested as the Praetorian militia initiated a planet wide attack on the League’s compounds. The hastily adjusted shields blunted the attack, and the marines manned the walls to blunt the ground forces assault. A stalemate was quickly achieved.

Quinn was in Finch’s command center in the compound, two floors below ground level. Three walls of it were filled with consoles and technicians manning them. In the center of the room was the command desk that collated the data from the individual feeds into a coherent whole.

“All sixteen of our compounds around the world are secure,” Finch reported. Then he glanced up at Quinn. “No thanks to you, Quinn.”

“They were looking for an excuse. We gave it to them. That’s the reality of it. What do you plan to do moving forward?”

“Negotiate.”

“We need to do that from a position of strength.”

Finch allowed himself a tight smile. “They can’t jam FTL communication. We sent out an SOS when this began. We will own the orbitals by the day after tomorrow.”

“The ones we’re after will have escaped by then.”

“That, I’m relieved to say, is not my problem,” Finch sighed. “I’m responsible for my delegation. Getting them evacuated is my first priority.”

“Of course it is,” Quinn conceded.

Since it was true the FTL comms couldn’t be jammed because they operated off quantum entanglement, Quinn had requested Satya as well. Apparently, Master Lu figured that need into his contingency planning, and Satya was close enough to be on site the next morning.

Quinn, after directing the Satya crew to monitor every ship leaving Praetoria, remained at the base to see how things developed. Pax was tagging the ships he could with a tracker, but he was sure to miss some. The rest of the team was also in the field on separate missions.

River had returned to the mountain fortress to see what she could get from the hotel computer. She and the marine techs came up with a patch to defeat the second operating system defenses, and she felt confident she would do better this time.

Moss was infiltrating the command tent of the general commanding the attack on the League compound where Quinn was. It was the overall League headquarters, and Moss figured the general attacking this important location would know more than the commanders of the other assaults.

Moss hovered at the back of the substantial pavilion tent that housed the command staff. His camo-shrouded light armor allowed him to blend into the shadows. He was currently enjoying the dismay the general was expressing because the shields around the League compound were holding against the barrage that should have taken them down.

[Good girl, Raina,] he smiled at Ari.

[She is a genius,] Ari concurred. Then he asked, [What will you do here?]

[Wait for a lull in the action and nab the general. We need to know what Lockhart’s plans are.]

[If he doesn’t know, then what?]

[I guess I could kill him, but it might be better to take him prisoner.]

[Well, it looks like he’s done ranting and raving. Maybe he’ll storm out of here soon,] Ari observed. Moss chuckled at the sarcasm and wondered if he might be a bad influence on the A.I. The general’s jerky movement toward the exit upset that train of thought.

[Yep. There he goes.]

Moss followed the general out of the command tent. He headed for a flyer. Two guards flanked him, and there were three guards at the flyer.

[How many in the flyer, Ari?]

[Three. Pilot, copilot, and one other.]

[Good odds.]

As the general reached the flyer, the three guards stiffened to attention. It was then that Moss shot all five soldiers with his pistol set to stun. Then he manhandled the general into the flyer.

Canceling his camo, he frog-marched the general forward.

“Take off now,” Moss ordered, “or the general is dead. So are you. And I get a shiny new ride.”

Then Moss offered them a maniacal grin. “Now would be good.”

The flight crew recovered from their shock and spun up the flyer. The pilot asked, “What’s our destination?”

“How about the big mountain fortress? I didn’t get to see much of it the last time I was there.”

“Yes, sir. Wolf’s Lair it is. ETA is twenty minutes.”

“Wolf’s Lair?” Moss laughed to the general. “Really? What kind of grandiose bullshit is that?”

The general, a steely-eyed, fit man of about fifty glared at Moss and said in a cutting tone, “A mongrel abomination like you could never understand.”

Moss chuckled and replied, “I’ll have you know I’m a purebred Penglai citizen. We’re all mongrels. It’s our strength, dickhead.”

“You’re a Coyote,” the general surmised.

“Yeah. And you’re going to tell me where that dirtbag Lockhart is.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Okay,” Moss replied brightly. Then he called to the pilot, “Open the aft ramp. We don’t need the general anymore.”

The ramp squealed open, and Moss dragged the general down it.

“You can’t do this,” the general protested. “It’s a war crime.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right, but Coyotes are exempt. We get to make our own rules. Besides, you’re a legitimate military target, aren’t you?”

The general tried to push himself back to the safety of the cabin. Moss jabbed him in the kidney, hooked a nano-rope to to the general's combat harness, and took advantage of the general staggering from the blow to bump him off the ramp.

The general screamed, “No!”

And Moss jerked him back onto the ramp, using the rope in a secretive way.

“Where is Lockhart?” Moss demanded as he disconnected the rope to let the general dangle.

The crew, of course, was looking for an opening to attack Moss. But Moss angled himself to keep one eye on them as he toyed with the general.

Now the crew chief made his move. Moss drew his pistol and stunned him without taking his eyes off the general.

[Thanks, Ari,] he told his implant A.I., who was actually the one that aimed the shot.

[It was a predictable maneuver.]

[Just say, ‘You’re welcome.’]

[You’re welcome,] was the flat response.

[We are going to have to work on your social skills.]

[Perhaps. But I’m not sure you are the best role model.]

The general was trying to calm himself after his near-death experience. Presently, he was able to mutter, “There’s a bunker under the hotel. He was planning on staying there until just before the League ships arrive.”

“Why?” Moss barked as he pulled the general onto the ramp. That strategy made no sense on the face of it. Hanging around would just put Lockhart at unnecessary risk.

“I don’t know,” the general stammered.

“Bullshit.” Moss snapped back and braced the general to the end of the still open ramp.

“Okay,” the general squealed. “He’s going to blow up a bunch of strategic targets to cover his escape.”

Moss sighed. “That makes a horrible kind of sense. Still, what will that achieve?”

“We will blame it on the League. All of our allies will use it as a rallying cry to destroy the League as an institution.”

Moss shook his head. “You guys amaze me. When has destruction for its own sake ever worked for anybody? Don’t you study history?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, you moron, that life begets life, death begets death. Destroy the League and you destroy us all.”

“No,” the general asserted, some of his authority returning. “We will rule in its stead.”

“Right,” Moss sneered. “You’ll ‘rule’ a civil war. Freedom loving people fighting against authoritarian jack-asses. And, just so you know, you would lose.”

The general slumped down with that. Moss went on, “Control is an illusion, general. People allow themselves to be controlled only as long as it suits their needs. You’ve got nothing to offer except fear. All regimes based on fear fail in the end.”

“We’re coming into fortress space, sir,” the copilot called out.

“Well,” Moss drawled, “if you don’t want to get shot down, give them the proper codes to let us land.”

“Yes, sir.”

Moss stunned the general and dragged him over to lie next to the crew chief. As the flyer circled in to land, he reached out to River on the tac-net.

“This is Moss, River. I’m coming in on the flyer. Where are you?”

River answered, “Second floor of the hotel. I’m searching through their computer logs and sucking out what seems relevant.”

“Bigger problems. There’s a command bunker under the hotel. Lockhart is there with an evil exit plan.”

“Okay. I’ll look for it and meet you on the ground floor.”

Moss clicked an acknowledgment and jumped out of the flyer before it completed landing. Switching his camo on, he skirted the ground crew and guards and headed for the hotel.