Release the Dogs of War

by Michael Anderle

  “I…” There was a pause on the line, “sometimes Bobcat, you are a pain in my ass.”

  “Count on it, Marcus, count on it.” Bobcat clicked off the speaker.

  —

  Six hours later, Bobcat was with William in what was nicknamed Destruction Alley.

  William turned to Bobcat, “So, they have a few ideas about a swarm concept Marcus came up with.”

  “I understand he had a bad dream or something and woke up thinking about it?” Bobcat mentioned.

  “Hell if I know. Who can say, strange is the mind of a scientist and all of that.” William replied, “but, the concept is interesting. We took a few pucks and started playing with the gravity when they got close and started trying to disrupt the gravitic shield by alternating the gravity fields on the pucks.”

  “How the hell do you do that?” Bobcat asked aloud while scratching his chin. “I mean, gravity is used to move yourself a direction. If the Puck starts to change its gravity, wouldn’t it go in a different direction and fly off into space?”

  “Yes, and no,” William answered. “We have to pull multiple Pucks together and connect them. For example,” William pulled over four small three-inch diameter Pucks, each about an inch thick each on his desk. “If you put one in the center, and connect three on the outside of the center, then the three can keep it on track while the center throws a different gravitational pulse.”

  “Does it work?” Bobcat asked looking at the circle with the three pucks around it. “And how many can you put into a circle?”

  “Depends on the diameters. We are still working on the whole answer, but the short answer is, it does fuck up the calculations and mess up the shield.”

  “Enough?” Bobcat asked, “enough to get a slug through?”

  “Maybe, but watch this video. We just did this while you were out gallivanting around.”

  “Hey, I could have blown up out there,” Bobcat argued, “so, my life was on the line and all of that. Oh, and Marcus’s too, and others, come to think of it.”

  “What was the chance of that happening?” William asked while raising an eyebrow.

  “Significant,” Bobcat replied.

  “Significantly how much?” William pressed.

  “Well, somewhere between being bitten by a dog and a lightning strike, I’m told.” Bobcat admitted, “but it sounded a little more dangerous when I would say our chance of becoming rapidly expanding atoms was one in a hundred and twenty-five thousand.”

  William grinned, “Fine, Captain Danger. Keep your numbers. But first, watch this video.” William hit a button on his screen. Bobcat watched as a small thirty-meter metal asteroid was first hit with a couple of regular rods, the ejection of rock in the harsh lights showing the strikes.

  Haze enveloped the stone, followed a few seconds later, as three small, almost lightning-like, glitches appeared on the hazy shape close to each other. “That’s the first test, three rods. We do another five tests with up to fifteen rods next. The lights are pretty, but we don’t get any further into the rock.” William hit a couple of buttons, “Here, you see the four Pucktards come close to the ...” William tried to continue, but Bobcat interrupted. William stopped the video to turn around and look at Bobcat, one eye raised.

  “Pucktards?” Bobcat asked, “You’re going to call these new devices Pucktards?”

  “Well, one of the mental midgets in the Defense group was telling Marcus it was like the reverse gravity was causing the field to become fucking retarded,” William said.

  “Not very PC,” Bobcat said.

  “Well, I’m not trying to say he was raised properly; I’m merely explaining how the term Pucktard came up,” William told him, a little exasperation coloring his voice.

  “Cheryl Lynn is going to roast us alive if we keep that name,” Bobcat reminded him.

  “Twenty bucks says I can come up with another story, and we not only get to keep the name; she tells the whole world the story if she ever gets the chance.”

  “Ok, but that kind of bet requires a timeline. We can’t wait forever to close the bet out.”

  “Um, say six months?” William offered. Bobcat fist-bumped to seal the bet.

  Bobcat turned back to the video. “Ok, Pucktard for now, but I’m pointing at your ass when someone comes looking for the naming.”

  William turned back to the video as well. “I’m changing your name to Captain Throw-My-Ass-Under-The-Bus,” William chuckled, “so, start watching the asteroid in the upper right-hand corner, see the first land?” He pointed to a little disturbance in the haze. “Here, here and here. There is the last one,” he said as he tapped the video screen.

  “I could see better if someone’s sausage for a finger wasn’t in front of the damned screen,” Bobcat mentioned. William pulled his hand away and used it to flip Bobcat the bird.

  “Classy, just how I like my women,” Bobcat smiled as William lowered his hand.

  “Watch …. Now!” William called, and Bobcat noticed the haze substantially reduced in the square area of the four Pucktards when four rods slammed home into the asteroid.

  “Woohoo!” Bobcat yelled, clapping his hands. “Hot damn! Nailed that hunk of rock!” He slapped William on the back. “That is all sorts of awesome. Now, can you do that if the rock is moving back and forth and shooting at you?” he asked in a little calmer voice.

  William put his hand and middle finger back up as Bobcat chuckled and left the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Great Falls, Va - USA

  In the darkened room, the man known to very few as Joshua Guildenstern reviewed his portfolio. Two years ago, it was a source of joy, a source of pride.

  His father’s, father’s, father’s legacy, passed down, built upon and passed down again.

  The companies he wielded with complete authority numbered in the hundreds, he had a sizeable portion of hundreds more and, with the Boards across the world, he, through them, ran thousands.

  They were the Illuminati.

  Or, to be accurate, they were an offshoot of the Bavarian Illuminati or the Enlightened. One of the splintered groups which could trace their secret history back to May 1st, 1776. Joshua would admit the original intent of the Bavarian Illuminati was to be the power behind the scenes, to help the un-enlightened.

  Not any longer. Now it was to control as much power, be one of the most powerful forces behind the world's governments and the world’s activities, without having to deal with the sticky issues of government itself. Using their individual and joined power to sway opinion and public sentiment, to confirm the tactics together to forge the right future for the globe, minimizing the explosive nature of nationalism.

  Why? Because it was bad for business. If it was bad for business, it was bad for them and their companies. Unless, of course, the portfolio of companies included some in the defense industry. So, at all times there were hotspots around the world, and forces in those conflicts to offer guns and bombs to. Their groups had wielded control of local, national, and international events for decades through the simple times and the tough times; helping the countries move forward under their deft hand, their gentle hand.

  Their firm hand.

  Except now they were in disarray as they had never been before, brought on by an unexpected and powerful foe who had caught them all, and especially him, unprepared. Unprepared to repel the massive onslaught of attacks against their members happening at breakneck speed.

  Many of the attacks were in the stock markets which was normally their untouchable domain. Others were more direct and executed against them privately. The attacks leaked information to the legal authorities who would raid their offices. Finally, the most feared attacks were covert actions marked by the disappearances of high-level people.

  Members gone, without a trace, without a note, without a funeral.

  Just, gone.

  The group members’ hysteria was getting out of control. At no time in their history had the boards across the world had t
o deal with the level of primal fear that was occurring.

  They had six boards, and every one had fights during the meetings. The Asian board was the least contentious outwardly. However, they were the ones who had the most to lose. No one believed they had gotten away with anything.

  Everyone was just waiting for the hammer to drop on them. In fact, most were secretly waiting to see what happened to the board which everyone blamed for the present crises, the Asian group.

  Except Joshua. He was looking through the catastrophic results of his latest stock portfolio review, turned off his monitor in disgust, and sat thinking.

  He was down one hundred and one companies. His net wealth and controlling power, as he calculated it, was at sixty-two point eight percent from twenty-four months before. He had been on track to be up twenty-two point four percent before they bombed TQB.

  He was barely holding on to his rage at the bitch he blamed for it all. For having the technology, for ignoring their offers, for failing to fall to their power.

  For killing his hit man and getting so close to him.

  He wiped the dampness off of his forehead as he considered how close they had gotten to fingering him. Joshua had no doubt what would be his future if they found out his name. He would fail to have a funeral as well. He would be just another missing person case.

  Joshua considered his options. It was time to call in a few chits, a few favors, from his highest placed sources.

  It was time to take out the bitch.

  Joshua reached over and turned his monitor back on. He hit a switch to jump to another computer located here in his basement. It had no Internet connection and used no Wi-Fi signals. It was all wired from the room below with only the video signal traveling to his office. He used a finger reader next to his monitor for security and logged into his archive, his records. The names of the people his group had helped through the decades and families through centuries.

  The network was extensive. Over twenty-two thousand highly placed individuals owed favors to his group. Yes, there were congressmen and congresswomen. military and civil authorities. But there were also the mothers, the fathers, the sisters and brothers to these same people as well. Those that would have influence on the powerful as well.

  They also had blackmail. Joshua wasn’t fond of blackmail as a rule, but he wasn’t above using it, either. Sometimes, the greater good needed to win, no matter the tools used to accomplish the goal. When you operated with the aid of generals close to the President, he could, and would, use all of the options at his disposal.

  He wanted that woman, dead or alive and what Joshua Guildenstern put his mind to, Joshua Guildenstern achieved.

  QBS Ad Aeternitatem - Mid-Atlantic

  Jean Dukes, Cheryl Lynn, and Patricia got together on the Ad Aeternitatem in the Captain’s private meeting room.

  The three ladies sat down. Patricia started, “Spill it, Jean,” she told the spunky Gunnery Officer as she lifted her water to take a sip.

  “I think he is on the hook,” she admitted, “I was my usual demure self when…” Jean had to suddenly push back from the table as Patricia’s drink spewed out of her mouth and nose, as the overcome woman tried to quickly cover her mouth and quit coughing.

  The ladies jumped into action. Jean grabbed napkins from the coffee bar and started cleaning up the table while Cheryl Lynn pounded on Patricia’s back.

  “Holy hell, woman!” Patricia said as she got her coughing under control, “Warn a lady the next time you’re going to throw out such a whopper!”

  The women laughed as they finished the cleanup and tossed the wet paper napkins into the trash. Jean smiled, starting again, “Ok, I did everything but jump him right in front of everyone.”

  “Now that we can believe,” Patricia stated. “Although you might need a trampoline,” she amended.

  “Funny ha ha. I’m not short, he’s just a mountain,” Jean shot back. “A mountain of rock and hard muscles and …”

  “Enough!” Cheryl Lynn gasped, putting up a hand, “Of the three of us, I’m the manless or non-man-focused one in the group and I don’t need a reason for a cold shower tonight.”

  “Well, then go grab a piece of one of them and take him to bed,” Jean said. “Hell, if John’s member were velcroed on, I’d just borrow it, and I’d bring it back happy,” Jean smiled at the two of them as she finished speaking.

  “Bullshit, you would miss the muscle rubbing,” Patricia said, “and the heavy breathing and then the…”

  “Enough!” Cheryl Lynn called out again, “You two need to tone it down a little.”

  Patricia winked surreptitiously to Jean and replied, “Well, little chickie, you might need to just fan yourself. This group is to focus on seeing how we might do a little matchmaking. Every little girl’s dream. Jean here has graciously offered to sacrifice her lust, sorry, her body.”

  “In lust,” Jean added.

  “Fine,” Patricia nodded to her, “her body, in lust, for John Grimes. Until that matchmaking opportunity goes away, we are calling him spoken for, at least for now.”

  “Don’t make me hurt someone,” Jean said, a nasty tone working its way into her voice, “I don’t like to share my man-spoils,” She finished to a snort from Cheryl Lynn.

  “Your man spoils?” Cheryl Lynn asked.

  “Yes, my man spoils,” Jean agreed, “the spoils of the man I capture.”

  “How well did that work out with the Chief Engineer?” Patricia asked.

  “If space weren't such a slut-whore, I would probably be able to say pretty well. Seeing how space is such a slut-whore, I can’t.” Jean shrugged, adding, “I have some morals, the space bitch doesn’t.”

  “I see,” Patricia said.

  “The slut,” Jean griped, one last time.

  “So, does John have any aspirations about space?” Cheryl Lynn asked, digging just a little.

  Jean’s eye opened a little wider, “No, thank God! If I lost the second guy to that hussy, I’d have to hang up my singles card and just get a lifetime supply of Energizer batteries for my Bunny.”

  Cheryl Lynn’s face went red as she placed her head down in her hands, “I cannot believe you just said that.”

  Jean looked to Patricia with a ‘what did I say?’ look on her face. Patricia put up two fingers, flexing them like bunny ears. Jean burst out laughing.

  “Oh my God, did you see the ‘Sex In The City’ episode?” Jean asked Cheryl Lynn, who shook her head no. “I thought every woman was required to see that episode? I had three friends make me sit down and watch it when I got off my ship after it aired. Crap, I think I’ve seen that episode like five times.”

  “That good?” Patricia asked.

  “Hilarious,” Jean agreed, “I’m pretty sure Cheryl Lynn needs to see it. We need a girls’ night in to get her in the mood first.”

  Cheryl Lynn opened two fingers to look at Jean, “Do you even do a girls’ night in?”

  “Sure, why not?” Jean asked.

  “Um, because you are so brash?” Cheryl Lynn said as she took her hands away from her face, “seems like you wouldn’t go for the pink and frilly.”

  “What, I like to paint my toenails like any girl,” Jean said, “just because I want them to curl excessively because of John’s …”

  “AND HERE WE GO AGAIN!” Cheryl Lynn broke in, rolling her eyes. “I’m going to have to get my own.” She noticed the two other woman looking at her, “Never mind!” raising her hands in the air before putting them back on the table.

  Patricia reached across and patted Cheryl Lynn on the hand, “I understand, dear. I waited a long, long time for my man to get a clue. I’m making up for it now.” She winked at Cheryl Lynn and allowed a satisfied smirk to cross her face.

  “So, let’s take a guy and figure out who we might match him up with, shall we?” Patricia said. “I actually have a simple one.”

  “Oh, who?” Jean asked.

  “Stephen,” she supplied.

  “Stephen
?” Cheryl Lynn said, “does Stephen even want a girl?” She looked between the two woman.

  “Well, he isn’t gay if that is your question,” Patricia said. “This is a direct request from Bethany Anne. She has noticed two reactions, one from a female Guardian, Jennifer Ericson.”

  “She’s the one that was hurt on the bus trip, right?” Cheryl Lynn said.

  “That’s correct,” Patricia agreed, “she was hurt protecting the children. Either way, Bethany Anne has noticed something from both of them.”

  “So, what do we need to do?” Jean asked, “Set them up on a date?”