I crouched in position, trembling with excitement as I awaited my handler Gabrielle's signal.
       Ahead, I could scent our quarry--a handful of Syndicate operatives, cornered in the weather-beaten warehouse that lay before us. I knew from experience there was little likelihood of our opponents suing for mercy. Battles with the Syndicate usually came down to all-or-nothing.
       "Now!"
       The awaited signal arrived, and I lunged ahead, noting as I did so that two other AI-enhanced canine operatives, my old friends Misty and Riff, sprinted toward the target as well. I opened my mouth in a wide, panting grin. If we go down, we go down together.
       Tall, broad-shouldered Patrick Murphy, Riff's handler, blew the door open and gestured us through.
       I saw the muzzle of a gun swing in our direction. Before its owner could fire, I grasped his forearm and ground down. After that, the battle became a blur of moving figures and whirling action, and I snapped and snarled, bit and leaped, dodged and spun.
       Only when the zip! zip! of laser fire and the bang! of projectile gunshots ceased did I allow myself to pause and take stock. I felt wetness on my shoulder, and reached back to lick at blood. Nothing I won't survive.
       I looked up at my companions. Misty, a fellow border collie, nodded briskly, and Riff limped toward me, favoring his right foreleg.
       "Just a sprain," he told me airily, raising his head proudly.
       That's a Shepherd for you, I thought, offering a panting grin. Downplaying everything.
       "Star, are you alright?" Gabrielle gently probed my shoulder wound. I sensed anxiousness, then relief, through the touch of her hands. I sat on my haunches so I could peer up at her face, allowing my up-pricked ears to indicate my desire to know the outcome of our raid.
       "We got here in time," she said softly. "They hadn't sent the shipment yet."
       I sighed and dipped my muzzle in acknowledgement.
       It's alright, then, I thought, allowing myself to relax. We did it.

       As members of the Galactic Expeditionary Forces, we were pledged to maintain order throughout those parts of the galaxy hosting human life. Our missions took us to space stations and pirate starships, planets and moons, asteroids and long-forgotten derelicts adrift on the vast sea of space. Through the trackless expanse that lies between the stars, we canine operatives sniffed out our quarry in concert with our human partners.
       Always, Gabrielle provided me with a source of stability and constancy despite the sometimes-chaotic whirlwind of assignments. A woman of average height, Gabrielle maintained a superb level of physical fitness. She radiated the easy acceptance of life, the ability to find joy in the simplest things, customary for her New Brunswick ancestors. Dark haired and graceful, she maintained an iron-clad commitment to enforce the standards of justice, yet off the job she displayed compassion and gentleness, treating me always with respect. I could not have asked for a better master.
       Gabrielle and I found ourselves teamed from time to time, as chance permitted, with my friend Misty and her handler Tomas Hall, with his sandy hair and bristly moustache and gentle sense of humor, or Riff and the stalwart Patrick Murphy. But the missions I enjoyed best were those in which we served shoulder to shoulder with German Shepherd Ninja and his human partner Dany Thierault, a short, laughing woman who brightened her surroundings with her smile.
       When our teams worked together, Dany and Gabrielle filled their down time playing endless games of cards, shuffling a cherished and well-worn cardboard deck straight from Earth herself. Ninja and I played chase or hide-and-seek, depending on whether we were ship-bound or planet-side. Even when we hadn't seen each other for months at a time, I often found myself waking up from a paw-twitching dream in which I relived Nina's sudden appearance around a corner or from behind an object, and saw the sparkle in his eyes when he said, "Found you!"
       Border collies like Misty and I are bred to work, and love to be busy. But there are some kinds of busy that are fulfilling and yet have the capacity to steal away parts of your soul if you let them. Kinds of busy that take you to vile places, chasing people who do evil things. And when you arrive at these places too late to help, it darkens your emotional skies, even when you are in the company of friends.
       I fell prone to gloomy thoughts most often when we arrived too late on some mercy-errand, or when we found ourselves foiled, sometimes by a whiskers-breadth, by our opponents. And at these times I questioned whether the AI implant that endowed us with the power to reason was a blessing, as I once thought, or a curse that darkens our days, for it made me all the more aware of the consequences of our failures.
       The warming presence of others of my kind tended to lighten my misgivings. And so, I felt a surge of delight when Gabrielle and I received the summons to Sub Station Three and I found myself once again in the company of my cherished companions Misty and Riff.
       I galloped over to touch noses, then took a couple of strides past them, so I could see down the corridor, along which human and canine members of the Forces streamed as they finished offloading from a recently-docked troop ship.
       I felt warmth at my shoulder, and realized that Misty had come to stand beside me.
       "If you're looking for Ninja," she said, her voice soft, "We haven't seen him either, lately. After Dany died in action, he blamed himself. He became--different."
       I lowered my ears in shame. In one's own joy, it is often possible to overlook another's misery. How could I have forgotten?
       "He's got a new master now. Tony Kelly. I fear--" Misty paused.
       The klaxon blared, interrupting our discussion. I raced for the door, finding myself trailing Riff and Misty.
       As we galloped through the corridors, the skid-proof floors aiding our progress, I wondered what had sparked the urgent summons. When we reached the cavernous meeting space, I craned my neck, hoping for a glimpse of the podium at the opposite end of the room. Though a wall of humans in front of me blocked that view, I could just make out the massive screen on the far wall portraying the image of the Mission Commander as she laid out the issue before us.
       It had to do with the Garva Syndicate, and when I heard the name mentioned, a low growl escaped me. We'd encountered them before. The capture of alien species to be sold to human collectors appeared to be their latest undertaking. In particular, the Syndicate targeted the leopard-like Katawa, native to Vars Noma, the Nogwro, Arcadia's dog-dingo mix, and Degna's meerkat-sized miniature equines. Syndicate operatives captured the creatures on their home planets and smuggled them to clandestine meetings with would-be customers. It was easy to understand the appeal of the chosen breeds. Each species possessed a mid-range level of intelligence, making them easy to train. On their home planets, they were recognized as beings with their own rights and privileges, which rendered the crime of abduction and resale all the more reprehensible.
       The murmured fear among politicians and law enforcement members was that humanoids on the affected planets might not distinguish between law-abiding humans and Syndicate members. Who could say where the hammer of reprisal might fall, when the time came? The N'Kisi, who inhabited Vars Noma, rightfully prided themselves for their ferocity and tenacity, and the Degnans were no slouches, either. With the entire galaxy on edge ever since the Greenoan War, we couldn't afford to let the Syndicate strike a flint to the powder-keg.
       "We've caught a break," the Commander said, her voice brisk. "There's been a sighting of several Katawa reported by an Eco-Team. We believe them to be escapees from a Syndicate base. Using this lead, the surveillance team identified the possible location of one of their strongholds--on Nemistat."
       A collective gasp sounded in the hall. Nemistat. A planet comprised largely of jungle and swampland, and reputed to be haunted--Nemistat would be a perfect location for a hideout.
       My eyes met Misty's. We'd served there, on a mission, once, and found the experience miserable--a time of wet fur, muddy paws, and a need for an elevated alertness to avoid the poisonous snakes and spiders teeming in the undergrowth.
       The Commander called out the assignment roll. We'd travel in scout ships equipped with masking devices, in hopes we might better be able to avoid detection--for a massive troopship sweeping into the system would surely alert our enemies.
       "Back together again, you and I." Misty remarked, her voice warm and welcoming.
       "Riff, too," I pointed out, trying with limited success to keep my voice upbeat. But not Ninja, I told myself, feeling my tail droop. There'd been no sign of him, here.
       I shook myself, as though that simple physical action might change my mood.
       "Come. It's time to board." Misty's voice.
       I spun and followed her out the door, able only by supreme effort to resist the temptation to glance once more around the room in hopes that Ninja might suddenly have materialized.

       Your mind can tell you that you are going on a mission, but for me, it's all abstract until Gabrielle fastens the bullet-proof camo-vest snugly in place, and buckles on the camera-equipped helmet with the special earpiece that allows the human members of the team to communicate with me.
       We geared up as the scout ship approached Nemistat. By the time we made landfall two kilometers from the site where we believed the concealed hideout lay my nerves jangled. Only with a concerted effort did I keep from trembling.
       We wove through tangled vegetation for a space, losing all track of time as the dim light and the constant drip, drip of water from the drooping branches dulled our very senses. My forepaws danced anxiously on the soft earth as we approached a game trail that marked the final approach to the enemy stronghold.
       "Go," Gabrielle whispered. "Go." The words were packed with love and trust. I plunged into the jungle, taking the lead, with Riff padding right behind me.
       Bang! A shot rang out and we all crouched, taking cover. All of us except Riff, who fell to the ground with a dull thud.
       Patrick slewed over to our fallen team member, kicking up the pungent earth with his boots. He performed a brief inspection and turned toward Gabrielle, his face grim. "Hit in the left hindquarter," he snarled. "We'll have to make him comfortable, pick him up on the way back."
       "Still can't raise any of the other parties," Tomas, who had trailed our small group along with Misty, grumbled. "Comm's been down since we landed. Still, we need to advance, with the assumption the other teams will do so as well."
       The wind teased my hair, carrying a scent. I gave a bark of challenge, as our training had taught us. No answer.
       I looked at Gabrielle, then pointed with my muzzle.
       Gabrielle glanced at Tomas, who nodded curtly. "Find," she whispered.
       Clearly, the game trail had been staked out by our enemies. I took to the jungle, dodging vines that seemed to move with intelligent purpose, extending their tendrils as though to grasp me. I drove from my mind all thoughts of the spiders and snakes lurking in the upper branches of the sullenly-dripping trees. If I read the situation correctly, something more menacing lay ahead, and I wished to meet it before it imperilled Gabrielle and the others.
       The failure to respond to that barked summons could mean many things. But that which I most feared, with a dread that drove my paws to beat the ground with a frantic urgency, I could barely acknowledge, even to myself.
       Another shot rang out, directed toward the small party I'd left behind.
       I scented Ninja again before I saw him. He and Tony had selected an excellent hiding spot. Without the aid of a rogue breeze running counter to the prevailing wind, I would never have found him.
       "Ninja?" I panted. "Ninja. What are you doing there?"
       I thought with a pang of our games of hide-and-seek, of his joyous bark whenever we found one another. On this occasion, he stood silent. Then my gaze fell upon Tony, noting that he wasn't dressed in his Galactic Forces gear. He sported a goatee, now, and his dark hair brushed the upturned collar of his slate-grey leather jacket at the back. What--?
       "Star!" Ninja leaned forward, then glanced at Tony, who shook his head slightly. "Star, fall back."
       "Explain!"
       "I can't." Ninja's eyes conveyed pleading. "Please trust me. Now go, quickly."
       Whining low under my throat, I took cover in the shrubbery, letting my training take over. Syndicate operatives lurked there, and there--
       By the time Gabrielle, Misty, Tomas, and Patrick caught up with me, I had catalogued the enemy positions, and pointed them out one by one with gestures of my muzzle. I was about to indicate Ninja and Tony's location, and then remembered the big Shepherd's words. Trust me. I dipped my muzzle and pawed at it, as though scratching an itch. Fine. But you better have reason.
       "Still can't raise anyone on the comm," Tomas muttered. "Someone's jamming communications, I think. But the Syndicate hideout should lie just ahead--"

       "How bad is it?" Gabrielle checked her ammunition situation and grimaced. All of the Syndicate operatives that I'd indicated had been dispatched, but others lurked in the woods, and we'd been trading shots with them for what seemed like forever. While they hadn't advanced on us neither had our small party gained on our objective.
       "We appear to be pinned down. And it sounds like a stalemate, over there." Patrick jerked his head toward the east, where gunfire rang out sporadically. Other members of our team. Also engaged.
       "Someone's making a move." Misty's voice. I pricked my ears, hearing the sound of carefully-placed boot-steps against the soft muck. I barked softly in warning, then crouched low.
       Gabrielle exchanged glances with her human comrades, then gave me a lingering look.
       This could be it.
       An opponent popped up a few feet away. Patrick fired quickly and the figure jerked, then fell. But he was quickly replaced by another, and another.
       I leaped at the nearest Syndicate man and bit down hard on his gun hand, then felt something graze my lower back.
       We're done for. Enemy reinforcements have arrived, since my initial count. There're too many--
       And just as this thought occurred to me, I heard gunfire from behind the Syndicate men.
       Daring to crane my neck out for a quick peek, I saw Tony moving forward, his face grim, spraying bullets into the Syndicate members from behind. Ninja leaped on an enemy operative's back, leaving no doubt where his allegiance lay.
       "Divide and conquer," Patrick muttered, raising his rifle to take advantage of the mayhem.
       "That one, with the backpack--" Tomas said, gesturing.
       Gabrielle grunted an acknowledgement, then took careful aim.
       She fired, and her quarry fell. I crept beside Tomas as he crab-stepped over and detached the pack. When a Syndicate member leaped toward Tomas, I pounced in turn, worrying at him until Tomas could raise his gun and do the rest.
       Tomas then turned his laser weapon on the small, metal box he'd wrenched from the pack.
       A few more seconds of static in our headsets. Then--welcome sound!--we heard the voices of our fellow Forces members. I recognized Victor's distinctive baritone, and that harsh whisper--that had to be Marcellus.
       Disabling the jamming device skewed the tide of the battle in our favor. After another hard-fought half hour, we met our fellow Forces members at the Syndicate encampment.
       As I approached the low-slung habi-dome, I detected loud breathing. Someone on the channel? No, it sounded closer. More immediate.
       I turned, puzzled, and spotted Tony. He had his right hand clutched against his left shoulder. As I watched, he withdrew the hand and grimaced when he saw the blood covering his palm. Then he glanced to his right and I heard him gasp.
       I looked in the direction of his gaze. What I saw chilled me through my paw-pads.
       Ninja! That blood, behind his left ear--
       I sped to my friend's side, arriving only a few seconds later than Tony.
       He probed the big Shepherd's fur gently with his hands, then leaned back.
       "He'll make it," he said, and his grin made a gash of white against his mud-darkened face.
       "I'ssorry," Ninja panted, raising his head. He gulped noisily, then tried again. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have told you."
       "You--" I paused, struggling to control my voice. "You went undercover." My voice grew harsher. "Central Command was willing to sacrifice you. Throw your life away. It isn't fair--"
       Ninja's muzzle jerked, as though he wanted to shake his head in denial but was unable to complete the motion without bringing on a wave of dizziness. "No. Not sacrificed. Because of Dany, I went willingly."
       "When I saw you, I was afraid--" I paused, weighing my next words. "I feared you might want the outcome that could have--"
       What I saw blazing in his eyes made me drop my head, ashamed.
       "No. Never that." He grunted, half in amusement, and I looked up. "We have many more hunts ahead of us, you and I."
       "I am not sure, anymore," I replied, turning away. "Perhaps I have lost my faith in what we do. The way the humans move us here and there, like chess pieces, to fulfil their own needs."
       "Were human lives at stake, here?" Ninja asked, his tone challenging.
       "Indirectly, yes." I replied. "The other races, if they thought us involved--"
       "Let me show you something," Ninja said, rising to his feet with difficulty. He took two hesitant steps, then steadied himself. "Come."
       More sure-footed now, he led the way with the air of someone deeply familiar with his surroundings. He trotted into the habi-dome, wove around the fallen bodies of Syndicate members, and turned right at an intersecting corridor. I sniffed the air. Animal scent. Heavy.
       And then we entered a room full of rows on rows of cages, and I saw those our recent actions had saved. I'd heard the Commander's words, during the briefing, but hadn't understood the impact of our mission until I witnessed, with my own eyes, what the Syndicate had done.
       "They're barely old enough to be separated from their mothers," I protested, pointing with my muzzle toward a tumbling pile of Katawa kittens. Next to them, a Nogwro pup toddled toward the wire mesh at the front of the pen, whimpering. So many--.
       I swallowed, hard.
       "Resistance against the harm wrought by the Syndicates--the drugs, the trading in humans and animals, all the other forms of wrong--that is always worthwhile." Ninja said, his voice gentle.
       I lowered my head.
       "Star," he said. "Doubt is only natural."
       "Words are easy."
       "After Dany died I--tortured myself, with my doubts, for a while," he confessed.
       "And?"
       "Doubt is the other side of faith. And triumph over doubt--that affirms our belief in what we do, makes it a choice and not just a blind following."
       I cocked my head, considering this.
       "Whatever you do, remember this: you must at all costs resist despair. Otherwise, the Syndicate will have won."
       With that, Ninja moved off in search of Tony, leaving me time to think.
       Is the AI enhancement that gives us increased conceptual ability a blessing, or a curse? I chewed on the old conundrum that tended to preoccupy me these days. I thought of the Brunswick Retriever with no AI link that I sometimes saw playing fetch in the field with her master, when Gabrielle and I spent time on Arcadia at her cousin's place.
       Would it be better to live life like that dog, fetching, retrieving, obeying? Just being, and not thinking?
       But I knew the answer to that. The AI link is a blessing. One that I wouldn't trade.
       Ninja's abrupt reappearance shook me from my reverie.
       "Commander's summoned all but a clean-up crew back to the ship. New orders."
       Despite my earlier misgivings, I felt the thrill of the hunt surge through me.
       "Lead the way," I said. "No. Wait."
       Ninja paused, turning and fixing me with a quizzical look. I half-turned away, feigning my mopiest look. As a border collie, dramatics are something in which I, in all modesty, excel.
       From the corner of my eye, I saw Ninja take a step toward me, his concern evident in his furrowed brow.
       "Race you, instead," I said, opening my mouth in a grin. Catching Ninja at a standstill, I leaped ahead of him, and gave a bark of pure joy as I charged ahead. The drumming of paws behind me only hastened my strides, until I felt as though I were flying.
       I knew that dark thoughts might once again occupy me in the future. But for now, all was well.
       Bring it on, I thought, hearing the beating of paws sound from just behind me. I stretched my forelegs further as we approached the scout ship's lowered ramp, and, laughingly, raced aboard just ahead of Ninja.