Syndicate Wars: False Dawn (Seppukarian Book 4)

by George S. Mahaffey Jr.

  Exiting the walkway, he moved past collection rooms, vast chambers with ceilings that were a hundred feet tall, where various drones were being prepped for disparate missions. He stared at the Reaper drones and several newer iterations that were tall and lean and capable of longer feats of flight. He smiled because he knew there were others already out there, immense metal hunter-killers that were able to operate underwater. If anyone was stupid enough to try and attack the base on the water, they’d be in for a very rude awakening.

  Continuing on, General Aames rode an escalator up, staring outside at portable landing pads, sheets of metal that unfolded from the sides of the base like petals on a flower. Small gliders were visible, landing on the pads, some offloading weapons, others disgorging additional troops that would be used for a number of missions that were in the planning stages. The base housed three-hundred crack Syndicate soldiers, but that number would likely double in the coming days. Very soon they’d begin taking the fight to the streets, conducting additional, surgical strikes to wipe out pockets of specifically identified resistance fighters. Some said that the only way to fully crush an insurgency was to engage in genocide and the General was fully prepared to test that theory.

  General Aames looked up and spotted three Syndicate personnel gesturing at him from the top of the escalator. He hastened forward, the personnel saluting, signaling for him to follow.

  The General was led down a long corridor whose walls were screens showing patriotic images of the Potentate and the Syndicate armies in battle. At the end of the corridor was a wall of clear material that revealed a view of the man-made ocean and countryside that lay beyond it. A transport tube was located here and General Aames entered it and rose to the top of the base.

  He stepped from the tube into a bullpen and moved toward a pillar of light that filled the entire center of the space. Several Syndicate technicians manipulated the light until images became clear. What the General saw in the light stole the breath from his lungs. It was someone, a single fighter dressed in Syndicate armor and battle helmet. The warrior was on a boat accompanied by what appeared to be two resistance fighters and one other person. The General immediately recognized the third figure. He gasped. It was Quinn’s daughter!

  21

  Q uinn rode in silence inside the Jeep, her mouth throbbing from where the bandit with the pig’s mask had cracked two of her teeth. She held an assault rifle in her hands, struggling against the desire to turn around and take a swing at Giovanni. Her eyes ratcheted to the right and she caught sight of him, seated behind her.

  “I still want to talk to you about what happened back there,” Giovanni said.

  She shook her head. “I’m not speaking with you. Ever.”

  “Okay, but I think you just did.”

  “Shut the hell up, Giovanni.”

  “I’m just glad everything worked out and we still have a chance to make things right.”

  “Apology is definitely not accepted,” she replied.

  “How long have I known you?” he asked.

  “Apparently too long.”

  “You’d have done the same thing if you were in my shoes, Quinn.”

  At this, she turned and iced him with a look.

  “But that’s the point. I could never be in your shoes and you’d never be in mine. It physically can’t happen.”

  “Is that a personal dig at me because I don’t have a child?”

  She flicked her wrist. “Take it for what it is.”

  “I’m offended.”

  “Said the guy who just tried to kill my daughter.”

  “She wasn’t even there!”

  “But you didn’t know that when you fired the fucking rocket!”

  “Okay! All right. Cease fire you two,” Eli said, holding up a hand. “Save the energy for the real enemy.”

  Quinn and Giovanni fell silent.

  “Now I want you guys to listen closely to what I’m about to say,” Eli said, tapping on the steering wheel.

  Quinn looked over. “Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?”

  Eli ignored this. “There’s a point along the Continental Divide in the Rockies where the waters of a stream part. Seems like a trifling thing, but one drop goes to the west and ends up in the Colorado River and the other goes east and ends up in the Mississippi River. Two drops of water, two entirely different destinations, but one small turning point that determines the outcome.”

  Eli glanced at Quinn and smiled. “That’s some pretty heavy stuff, huh?”

  Quinn’s brow furrowed. “I literally have no idea how what you just said has any relevance to our conversation.”

  She looked back at Giovanni. “You get any of that?”

  “Not a word,” Giovanni said.

  “All in favor of Eli never giving any more advice, raise your hand,” Quinn said.

  Her hand shot up. So did Giovanni’s. Eli took this in, watching the two trade looks. A faint smile pulled at his lips as he turned back to the road only to see—

  Quarrels gunning his motorcycle directly at him!

  Eli sawed the wheel, barely avoiding Quarrels who blurred past, disappearing back down the road. The Jeep swerved down onto the right shoulder and smoked to a stop just before a line of bullets stitched holes in the hood.

  “GET DOWN!” Quinn screamed.

  The trio dropped low as every window in the Jeep imploded in a hailstorm of gunfire. Quinn covered her ears, listening to the bullets thump into the sides of the Jeep. One winged her ear, drawing blood, another tore a hole through Giovanni’s shoes, barely missing taking off his toes. She grabbed her rifle and shoved Giovanni’s over to him.

  “This is getting real old, Quinn,” Giovanni said.

  She nodded and pulled her feet back and kicked her door open.

  Dropping down to the ground, Quinn caught sight of the SUV housing Bowen and his two associates. It was two-hundred feet away, parked in the middle of the road. She could see the forms of the fighters inside, training their weapons on her.

  Before she could get off a shot, there was a puff of smoke from the SUV and a fiery explosion churned the ground out in front of her, showering the terrain with dirt and rocks. Dancing backwards, she lunged behind the back of the Jeep as more gunfire rang out.

  Snake-crawling down the shoulder, she saw Eli drop from the Jeep and take cover behind the spine of a slab of naked rock. Giovanni had pressed himself to the side of the Jeep, rifle to his chest, coiled like a serpent waiting to strike.

  Quinn held up two fingers, signaling for him to head left. He nodded and she crawled under the Jeep and looked out from behind the right rear wheel. She glanced up and cursed Cody and Hayden. Where were they?!

  Bowen and the resistance fighters continued to loose a merciless wave of bullets at the Jeep, completely obliterating it. Quinn leaned back and cried out as if wounded. She paused, then watched a resistance fighter emerge from the SUV, grenade in hand.

  The fighter ran down the road and Quinn shot him in the left knee.

  A fountain of blood sprayed from the wound as the fighter dropped to the pavement, the grenade rolling away from him. It detonated, sending up a plume of smoke that Quinn used as cover. She bellied out from under the Jeep and ran laterally across the street, firing her gun. Giovanni did the same, only tracking in the other direction until, in seconds, they’d pinned Bowen in, catching them in a crossfire.

  Quinn slid down an embankment on the other side of the road and leaned back and fired. Her bullets tore through the neck of a resistance fighter who fell back, dead before he hit the ground.

  In a flash, there was only Bowen left, aside from the injured fighter that Quinn had just shot in the knee and who was still on his back, moaning.

  Bowen emptied out his gun, tearing up the ground all around Quinn, bits of gravel pelting her face as the bullets ricocheted.

  She heard the report of Giovanni’s gun and lay on her side, taking a bead on Bowen who, trapped between Quinn and Giovanni, droppe
d his weapon and threw up his hands.

  Levering herself up, Quinn moved slowly forward, never lowering her gun. Giovanni was doing the same from the other direction as the shadow of the glider passed overhead. Thanks for being on time, Cody, she thought to herself.

  “GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!” Quinn yelled.

  Bowen didn’t move a muscle.

  Quinn drew to within two feet of him. “You hear me?!”

  “I ain’t getting on my knees in front of some bitch,” Bowen said.

  “I’ll give you to the count of three."

  Bowie just mad-dogged her, steeling himself. “Fuck you.”

  Quinn glared. “One.”

  WHAM!

  Quinn punched Bowen hard in the face, splitting his nose open. Blood blossomed and he crumpled to the ground. Quinn lowered the barrel of her rifle down, pressing it against Bowen’s forehead.

  “Where’s my daughter, asshole?!”

  “Back down at the water,” Bowen replied, spitting out blood. “Xan’s taking her out to the scuds.”

  Quinn looked up and without thinking, began running down the blacktop, headed toward the alien ocean.

  22

  Samantha felt a little seasick as the boat cut a path across the top of the man-made ocean, headed on a collision course toward the largest Syndicate base. She watched the two resistance fighters in the stern manning the engines as Xan looked back at her. Xan was at the front of the boat, clad in her Syndicate armor, battle helmet, rifle, and rucksack at her feet.

  “Once they spot us, we’re gonna be toast,” Samantha said. “There won’t be any way to escape.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” Xan replied.

  Samantha watched Xan reach for the oversized rucksack which spilled open to reveal an object that was the size of a football, made of metal, stenciled with yellow and white markings that Samantha had seen before. It was a hafnium warhead. She’d seen another like it during her time on the road with the resistance fighters. She remembered a group of fighters discussing it, talking about how hafnium was a high-density material, meaning it stored tons of energy. A small brick of hafnium could contain over fifty-thousand times the energy in an equivalent amount of TNT and the warhead Xan had was three or four times that size. At that moment, she realized Xan and the others never had any intention of finding a way out. This was less an attack and more a suicide mission. Awesome, she thought, trying to wriggle her fingers free.

  “Unless you’ve found a way to swim without the use of your hands, don’t even think about it,” Xan said, zipping the rucksack up and shrugging it on.

  “Why are you doing this?” Samantha asked.

  “You want a lie or the truth?”

  “Depends which one is worse.”

  “I’m taking the fight to the aliens,” Xan said.

  “God. You’re still on that whole aliens killed the world thing? You have to let go of the anger.”

  Xan pointed to the backpack. “Sure will. Just as soon as I deliver that to their front door.”

  “Why would they ever let us get that close?”

  Xan smiled. “Because I think they really want to meet the daughter of the Marine that escaped from them.”

  “I think you’re really overestimating how valuable I am.”

  “You better be valuable. Otherwise I’ll just chuck you into the water right now.”

  Suddenly, the air crackled and Samantha stared down at the water which began to bubble, as if some immense form was rising up from the depths.

  “I think they know we’re here,” Samantha said.

  WHOOM!

  A triangular head surfaced twenty feet out from the boat, the top of a Syndicate drone that was as big as a school bus. Then spider-like arms, shafts of silver-like, alloyed alien metal emerged. These shot up into the air and crashed back down in the water to stabilize the construct. Having accomplished their task, the legs locked into place, pistoning the main body of the drone, its thorax, up into the air. Samantha sat there frozen, watching the drone, which was nearly sixty-feet high, heave itself up into a kind of standing position. She realized that the drone resembled one of the metal monsters from her vision. A killing machine constructed of some iridescent alien material that emerged from the watery depths like a submarine.

  Samantha traded looks with Xan. “We’re totally gonna need a bigger boat.”

  A compartment on the belly of the drone opened and a sensor, what looked like a giant eye housed inside a flexible metal ringlet, telescoped out and began sweeping across the water.

  Searching for objects.

  Searching for potential targets.

  The persistent, unblinking eye glowed red and stopped upon spotting the boat.

  “It sees us,” Xan said.

  “Ya think,” Samantha replied, her mouth dry, her eyes searching for any way off of the boat.

  And then the drone emitted a metallic shriek that was like a freight-train from hell. The sensor ratcheted back up into the machine’s belly and the drone’s outrigger-like legs snapped and popped, the sound of hydraulic gears engaging as the drone torqued itself into another position. Samantha could see that it was moving aside, giving them a clear path toward the Syndicate base. The two resistance fighters in the back panicked and jumped into the water, swimming back toward the shore. The boat was without a pilot now, motoring slowly toward the Syndicate base, as the enormous drone vanished into the water like a sea serpent.

  Samantha could see forms moving near the bottom of the base which was less than a quarter mile away. Syndicate soldiers were scurrying about like actors without a script, taking up positions, seemingly ready to greet them. Xan grabbed her battle helmet and rifle.

  “It’s time to go fishing,” Xan said.

  “But you don’t have any bait,” Samantha replied.

  Xan turned to her and grinned from ear to ear.

  GENERAL AAMES STOOD on the lower landing of the Syndicate base, shadowed by several dozen heavily-armed Syndicate fighters. He studied the boat with Samantha onboard as it puttered toward him, searching for any sign that this might be a trap. He knew that Quinn and the others were approaching in a Jeep and the glider they’d stolen from the command ship. They were out beyond the water’s edge and he’d deal with them presently. In the meantime, all that mattered was that he’d find a way to take Samantha into custody aboard the base. She was more valuable alive than dead, he knew that. Once that was accomplished, he would present her personally to the Potentate. He had visions of the Potentate congratulating him, labeling him a hero of the empire. His name would be remembered and he would be exalted before being placed in direct control of everything that happened on Earth. It would be glorious.

  His gaze wandered to the back of the boat, to Samantha whose small frame was sagging as she sat, staring at the ground. For a moment he wondered why her hands were bound and then he shrugged off these thoughts and got ready to greet her.

  23

  Q uinn plunged down through the canyonlands, lungs burning, headed toward the water’s edge which was several hundred yards below. She could hear the shouts of Giovanni and Eli behind her, but there was no time to wait for them. Chest heaving, she left the road and lashed down over a section of rocks until she was standing at the water’s edge, staring out over the man-made ocean. She could see the alien bases and the boat with two tiny figures headed directly toward it. Cupping a hand to her mouth, Quinn called out for Samantha, but the boat was too far away.

  There was a buzzing in the air and Quinn turned to see the glider hovering fifteen feet above the road, Eli, and Giovanni standing below it. Quinn darted back up the road, fighting against the turbulence caused by the glider as it floated over the blacktop.

  “They’re there!” she shouted, reaching Giovanni and Eli, pointing back to the water. “I can see them!”

  “We need to move fast,” Giovanni said.

  “Unless you’ve discovered how to walk across water, we’re in a bit of a pickle,” Eli added.<
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  The glider dropped several feet and a compartment opened on it. Quinn looked up to see Hayden and Milo peering down at her. Over the thrumming of the glider’s engines, she shouted, “THEY’RE OUT ON THE WATER!”

  “THEN LET’S GO AND GET HER!” Hayden shouted back.

  Milo dropped something down at Quinn.

  It was a set of alien straps, a harness of sorts, from inside the vessel.

  Quinn stared at the straps, then at Giovanni and Eli.

  “We’ll find another way,” Giovanni said, his face full of worry. “You can’t possibly think it’s wise to strap yourself in.”

  Quinn shook her head. “There’s no time. This is the only chance we’ve got.”

  Quinn drew the harness over her shoulders, tucking the connecting clips under her arms. She grabbed her rifle and sucked in a breath and held up a thumb to Milo who nodded and saluted her.

  Then the glider powered straight up and Quinn felt her feet leave the ground.

  In seconds, she was flying through the air underneath the glider, held aloft on the straps like a marionette. She watched the ground end and the water begin as the glider accelerated out over it.

  She had a God’s eye view of everything and was dumbstruck at the sight of all of the alien bases, including the one that the boat was heading toward. The bases jutted up out of the water like vertical cities, tall and shimmering, and terrifying. She squinted and saw clusters of Syndicate soldiers and what might be drones on the decks of the bases, little more than specks as the glider ascended to thirty feet, then forty feet above the water’s surface.