God's Dogs Book 2
Chapter 3

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

The team reviewed what was in the folders. Their implant A.I.s, fully sentient for the last two years, filed the data and began chatting among themselves on their own dedicated comm channel.

When they reached consensus, they informed the humans what they were thinking.

Moss reacted first. “Well, that’s an obvious change no one thought of.”

“It is,” Pax agreed.

“I’ll share it with Gomez,” Quinn said and left the room.

He marched next door and walked through the open door.

“What’s up, Quinn?” Gomez asked from his desk.

Quinn sat in a chair facing the desk and said, “The daily schedule has 0500 to 0600 for PT, then breakfast, training, lunch, training, dinner, and DI chosen training until 2000.”

“That’s the basic schedule.”

“We want the first fifteen minutes of PT for guided meditation, and up to a half-hour during D.I. time for another guided meditation session.”

“We include meditation training and encourage them to do so during their personal time.”

“I know, but there are specific locations in the Nature realm of spirit they need to be aware of. It gets covered in depth during Coyote training, but it takes a while to develop competence in negotiating the qi-field in the Nature realm. Coyote candidates washout because of that lack more frequently than any other reason.”

“I see,” Gomez responded. “Working on that skill now can identify the problem children and either help them have a better shot, or alert them to the fact that they will fail later on.”

“Our thinking exactly.”

Gomez pondered the idea for a moment; then he grinned an evil grin. “We will still cram an hour’s worth of PT into that 45 minutes.”

Quinn chuckled at that, waved at the master sergeant and left.

At dinner, Moss and River sat with the D.I.s for Blue Platoon; Pax and Quinn, with the D.I.s for Red Platoon.

Blue Platoon’s sergeant first class was Nelson Washington, a muscular black man that stood 6’ tall. His head was shaved and the bullet shape flared to thick trapezius muscles that gave him a no-neck look. He had the presence of a block of granite, and a clear baritone voice that penetrated like a rung bell.

Staff sergeant Anya Sobrero was a feisty Latina woman, also muscular but with an Aztec shape to her smooth face. Her dark hair, pulled back from her forehead, didn’t reach the collar of her khaki uniform, but it lay across her head like a close-fitting helmet. Her voice had sharp edges to it, but now it was a pleasant, even lyrical sound like a summer rain.

Staff sergeant Martin Yakooni was Athabascan by heritage and sported a prominent nose in a pleasant face. He, too, was 6’ tall, broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips. Of the three, he was the more gregarious, and his laugh was quiet but infectious. He and Moss were already playing off one another with politically incorrect banter.

River interrupted that to ask Washington, “How do you see us fitting in with you guys? I’d hate to mess up the teamwork you’ve established.”

Washington half-smiled and answered, “Stand around looking ominous to start with. We’ll toss you topics to discuss, or questions to answer. And you can yell at the recruits if you notice something we missed.”

Anya elaborated, “It’s chaotic the first couple of days, but then we’ll get into a rhythm with the group personality that emerges.”

“In a sense,” Yakooni added, “they train themselves. We just give them the tools to accomplish the necessary tasks.”

River glanced at Moss, who replied, “Not buying it. You’re like the banks of a river. You shape its form and dictate its direction. Sure, they flow merrily along, but they can’t train themselves.”

“Okay,” Washington relented, “we are good at what we do, because we know how to anticipate problems and solve them before they become problems. For us, you’re additional tools to get ahead of the problems we have struggled with.”

“Such as?” Moss pushed.

“Credibility would be the main one. We’re not Coyotes, so who are we to train them?”

“Good point,” Moss said and returned to his dinner.

At the Red Platoon table, Quinn and Pax were having a similar discussion.

The sergeant first class was Maria Sanchez, a short, 5’4” Mayan woman built like an Olympian shot-putter. Her face was round with a strong jaw and dark brown, nearly black, piercing eyes. She was an observer that struck like a snake when she had something to say.

Staff sergeant Dayo Blessing was a long-limbed woman of African descent with clean, handsome features and a skullcap of curly black hair. She dominated a room when she spoke, but retreated into obscurity when she listened – like a gusting wind, a blasting force of nature and then silence.

Staff sergeant Robert Seelak was of Inuit descent. His body was square-shaped, and he stood 5’8”. Almond-shaped eyes in an oblong face, he offered observers the inscrutability of a perched owl. He spoke in a soft voice people found themselves straining to hear. His humor was deadpanned to the point where no one wanted to play poker with him. Who know what went on in his head? It was a mystery.

Pax was asking, “How do you deal with raging teen hormones?”

Seelak answered, “Keep them exhausted.”

Sanchez chuckled and added, “They have separate barracks, and we make it clear that any hanky-panky gets them booted.”

Quinn went on, “Even so, how do you account for the sexual tension? Doesn’t that compromise group process?”

“It can,” Blessing answered. “We try to nip that in the bud in the first two days.” Then she looked at Sanchez and said with a smile, “Sergeant First Class Sanchez is pretty brutal when she stomps down on that nonsense. I think you’ll enjoy the show.”

Sanchez sighed and shook her head.

The recruits showed up on buses the next morning at 0900. They had already been outfitted with their clothing and other gear, run through medical, got a haircut, and they were ready to begin training. They off-loaded, and the sergeants separated them into two groups and herded them to the four barracks they were assigned.

The team watched with Gomez in front of their four-plex.

“Well, it begins,” Gomez sighed. “They should be in uniform and ready for a barracks inspection by 1000. Once that’s over with, we line them up and I give them their welcome to hell speech. You can flank me and look menacing. I’ll introduce you at some point. Then they get herded to lunch. In the afternoon, it’s close order marching instruction, which they will screw up so that a nice 10K run is called for. We’ll hydrate them and get back to basic marching drills. When they finally get a clue on that, we reward them with a mere 5K run. Then off to dinner. After that, they’re yours for as long as you want them.”

“Sounds good, master sergeant,” Quinn said.

Moss snickered. “And now we’re spit and polish.”

Later that morning, Gomez stood in front of the assembled recruits in more or less good formation. They were four deep and ten abreast in each platoon. Gomez stood before them with Moss and Quinn on one side, and River and Pax on the other side. The sergeants stood in front of the platoons at attention.

Gomez said, “Platoon leaders, bring your people to parade rest.”

The first sergeants called out the order, “Platoon! Parade rest.”

The recruits stepped uncertainly to parade rest.

Gomez went on, “Recruits, I am Master Sergeant Gomez. I am in charge of your training. This is your formal welcome to the Quan Yin region’s annual Coyote boot camp. You number 98 recruits in this class, and if prior statistics hold true, 90% of you will fail this program. That leaves about ten of you to enter the Coyote program’s five-year training process and a final year of operational experience. About 90% of those who enter Coyote training fail the program. In other words, maybe one of you will become a Coyote.

“I’m telling you this because you are going up against impossible odds. I’m also telling you this to congratulate you for daring to go up against impossible odds. You have already proven that you are the best Penglai has to offer by making it to this boot camp. When you wash out of this program, you will join an ongoing boot camp for the militia, and you will excel there and go onto a successful career.

“What is Coyote training? It is the most brutal training mankind has ever devised. The reason is because of a prediction attributed to a 19th Century philosopher, named Lord Acton. Sergeant first class Washington, what did Lord Acton say?”

Washington came to attention and replied, “Master sergeant, Lord Acton said, ‘Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.’”

Gomez went on as Washington returned to parade rest, “Coyotes wield absolute power. They are bound by no laws. They can commandeer a battlecruiser and the captain and crew would follow their orders. They could take over this base if they wanted to. They could make a general stand down and use his regiment as they saw fit. They are a law unto themselves. As such, they must be stripped of all corrupting influences, because they hold absolute power. That’s why the training program is so brutal. And in the end, our Coyotes trace their heritage back to the ancient Shaolin Temple on Earth. Of them, it was said, ‘A Shaolin priest can walk through walls. It is said that listened for he cannot be heard; looked for he cannot be seen; felt he cannot be touched.’ They were mystical spiritual warriors, and all of us are in their lineage, but Coyotes embody their warrior spirit.

“This year we are honored to have a Coyote team assigned to this training cycle. On my right is team leader, Coyote Quinn.”

Quinn stepped forward and saluted.

“To my far right is the designated medic, Coyote Moss.”

Moss saluted.

“To my left is the designated sniper and cyber warfare specialist, Coyote River.”

River stepped forward and saluted.

“To my far left is the empath and designated infiltration specialist, Coyote Pax.”

Pax saluted.

“Coyotes hold the equivalent rank of flag officers in the military. You will treat them as such. You will address them with the honorific of Coyote before their name. You will follow any order they issue without pause and without question. Is that clear, recruits?”

A week answer of ‘Sir, yes sir’ sounded.

“Platoon sergeants, please aid the recruits in a proper response to my question.”

The platoon leaders did a smart about face and shouted, “You will, in unison, give a full throated roar when you respond to the company commander.”

Gomez reiterated, “Do you understand my directions?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Very good. Welcome, once again, to Coyote boot camp. Platoon sergeants, take charge of your platoons.”

The platoons marched off on their way to lunch. As the distance increased so they were out of hearing, Moss remarked, “That was inspiring, master sergeant.”

Gomez smiled. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Perish the thought,” Moss replied. “Do we eat at the mess hall or is there an NCO mess that we can go to. I’m not sure I want to be around all those teens.”

“Yeah. Follow me.”

There was a lecture hall adjacent to the recruit barracks, and at the end of the workday, after dinner, the sergeants marched the recruits there. The hall was an undecorated stage, and theatre seating was in a semi-circle fronting the stage. The room could hold up to 500, and the recruits piled into the front rows. Once they were seated, the sergeants took up stations around them and issued the commands necessary for order and decorum.

Quinn strode onto the well-lit stage and said, “My teammates are out there among you. I’ll give a free pass to anyone that can spot any one of my team.”

After a few minutes of the recruits looking around, Quinn went on, “In the trans-rational realms there are four broad levels or plateaus: the Nature realm, the Spirit realm, the Void realm, and the Great Mystery. You’ve learned of these as you progressed through your schooling and your meditation practice.

“What you didn’t learn about was how to access the powers available in each realm. You may have learned some of the lesser powers, like healing, but not the more difficult powers to master.

“For example, you didn’t learn this. Moss, project your presence to stand next to me.”

A faint shimmer flickered next to Quinn and slowly it stabilized as an image of Moss.

Quinn went on, “In the Nature realm we can manipulate qi. We can warp the qi-field. And that’s what my team is doing.”

Quinn paused to let that sink in. Then he said, “Okay. You can reveal yourselves.”

The team let go of the meditation that allowed them to disappear and appeared in front of the stage, standing not two feet from the front row. The recruits reacted with awe and disbelief.

“Manipulating the qi-field is a skill we rely on in all of our assignments,” Quinn explained, “but it takes a while to gain the focus and control to do so. Tonight I will teach you the basic meditation to enter the qi-field so that you can begin to explore it.”

The team spread out to form a large circle around the group. They would add their meditative focus as a containment field to strengthen the recruits’ efforts.

“Sit up straight,” Quinn directed. “Feet flat on the floor, hands on your thighs. Belly breathe until you feel your mind down-shift to a light meditative state.”

Quinn paused to let them accomplish that task. Then he went on, “Now envision yourself walking down a staircase. Each step down will drop you into a deeper meditative state. Take your time and feel the shifts. When you reach the fifth step, stop there.”

The team was also engaged in the exercise, and their stronger focused intention reached out to amplify the recruits’ attempts.

“Now, think of something that strongly reminds you of nature – a tree, a lake, a mountain, something inanimate that holds personal significance. Once you have that, envision yourself merging with it.”

Quinn paused again until he could feel the recruits moving into the qi-field through the expedient of the artifact they envisioned. Then he said, “Relax and let the energy of nature flow through you unimpeded.” Then he charged his voice with power and said, “Become one with nature.”

There was a surge of energy in the qi-field, and Quinn smiled.

“Now, let your awareness expand. Ask: where is the nearest deer? Feel the answer in your belly. Ask where any living thing is, and let yourself know the answer. For example, ask: where is the nearest human predator? And now you know the nearest bad guy is on the main space station.”

Quinn let them play with their access to the qi-field for a while, and then he concluded the meditation.

“Bring your focus back to your body. Notice your breathing. Roll your head around and fully inhabit your body. Then open your eyes.”

They did so and looked around them. Quinn chuckled. “Yeah. Everything changed. It’s all brighter, more alive, more radiant. The monkey mind dulls your perception of the living world. Your ego discounts it so the separate self can feel important. The ego and the monkey mind also cut you off from your true self. You are a shining expression of a vibrant universe, unique and powerful, but so is everyone else. The difference is that we know it. We know we are both unique and powerful, but also brief flares in the qi-field; a single wave in the ocean, and the wave eventually crashes into the shore, and this existence is gone.”

Quinn let that idea reverberate for a long moment.

“A spiritual warrior’s vow is to do the right thing in each moment, and to live from our true, divine selves in each moment. It begins with maintaining a constant connection to the qi-field.”

Quinn sighed heavily and said, “Class dismissed.”