Syndicate Wars: False Dawn (Seppukarian Book 4)

by George S. Mahaffey Jr.

  “We estimated that thing at six-hundred feet long with a weight that’s likely ten times that of the Statute of Liberty,” Quarrels said. “It’s a piece of engineering divinity.”

  Comerford squinted. “What is it?”

  “The world’s largest mechanical worm,” Quarrels said, pointing to the end, the mouth of the drillbit as it was lowered by the four airborne drones. “It’s got a massive cutterhead that’s studded with scraper bits and cutting wheels.”

  Comerford watched the mouth of the drillbit spin to life and begin boring into the ground. The cutting wheels gouged into the earth and next came a soapy, white liquid that was jetted into the deepening hole via a series of nozzles that were visible on the side of the drillbit. The white liquid instantly turned the earth to muck.

  “Now watch it go to work,” Quarrels said.

  Comerford watched the drill disappear down into the ground, burrowing at a rapid clip. Then, an immense metallic screw curled through the middle of the drill, the action spewing the muck dug from the hole back into the air until the sky was black.

  “That thing can carve a tunnel that’s thirty feet across in minutes,” Quarrels whispered. “We watched it dig out several thousand cubic yards of muck every minute, boring down hundreds of feet into the ground.”

  “For what purpose?” Comerford asked, looking up.

  Quarrels smiled and pointed a final time. Comerford watched as water began pouring out of the hole, spewing up, covering everything in sight.

  Quarrels’s finger traced the outline of the spreading water. “They tapped into the Snake River, among others, in order to flood the canyonlands and the plains.”

  The images changed to show a fleet of drones soaring through the air. The machines had wings on either side from which dangled titanic, curved slabs of what appeared to be concrete and metal. The drones hovered over a section of canyon that had once housed the river, the water having been diverted by the hole dug by the large drill. The airborne drones maintained a position not unlike a tiltrotor military aircraft readying to land, and then rocketed up only to drop down again, pistoning the curved slabs into the ground. Once the slabs were stacked in place, smaller drones piloted by Syndicate personnel buzzed over and moved down the stack, using what looked like epoxy, rivets and spot welding to create one seamless wall that easily stood one-hundred feet in the air.

  “They’re building a wall,” Comerford said, his mouth adroop, awestruck by what he was watching.

  “To hold the water back,” Xan said. “They flooded the desert and then dammed it up again over the horizon. They’ve created their own mini-ocean.”

  More images appeared in the air. A vast, newly formed body of water dotted with what looked like islets that were being rapidly expanded. Comerford watched Syndicate workers and drones dredging up sand and aggregate, sucking up material through hoses and tubes that was then dumped onto the islets, expanding their surfaces. Next came machines that resembled colossal dump trucks that laid down additional layers of material, Quarrels flipping through the images, allowing Comerford to watch, in seconds, the islet evolve into a towering Syndicate base made of stone and metal and alien alloys.

  “They’re bringing down friggin’ prefab bases,” Quarrels muttered. “We watched ‘em put up two in a day.”

  Quarrels spread the fingers on his good hand and the POV pulled back to reveal that there were a dozen such bases in the new “ocean” the aliens had built after damming up the Snake River. Several of the bases appeared like spires, tall and thin, sticking out of the water like needles. The others were larger, and Comerford did a double take when he saw that they were suspended in the air, kept aloft by massive plumes of water that were sucked from the “ocean” and blasted through a series of jets that wreathed the bottom of the bases.

  “Holy Mother of God,” Comerford whispered to himself.

  It’s like what the Chinese did in the South China Sea with them reefs back in the day,” Quarrels said, the images disappearing.

  “Only a million times bigger,” Xan added.

  She moved over and flipped the lights back on and the trio sat in silence for several seconds.

  “Some of our spies said they’re running the place with modular fusion reactors,” Quarrels said.

  “I don’t know what that is,” Comerford replied.

  “Basically, they got the power of the sun trapped inside a nuclear reactor. They’re using plasma to power the base. For what purpose, I do not know.”

  Comerford massaged his face. It was clear that he was having difficulty grasping the enormity of everything.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do about all this?” he finally asked.

  Quarrels smiled warmly. “I have heard that you were once a military man, before the world turned over.”

  Comerford nodded.

  If I say the name General Edward Braddock, does that mean anything to you?” Quarrels asked.

  “I seem to remember the name, but can’t place it.”

  “Best leader of men the British Army had in the years before the American Revolution. The old gent was a straight-up kicker of ass and taker of names. You know what he did? He decided to march an army of over eleven-hundred men up through the Allegheny Mountains.”

  “Hubris,” Comerford said.

  “Pride goeth before a fucking fall,” Quarrels said with a chuckle. “French and Indians were there waiting. They were outnumbered and outgunned, but they kicked the bitter piss out of him. Killed two-thirds of Braddock’s men and nearly three-quarters of his officers, along with Braddock himself. Do you know why that battle was important?”

  “I’m sure there are a number of reasons,” Comerford replied, his voice trailing off.

  “It showed that the greatest army in the world could be defeated by a bunch of guerrillas. It gave people hope that the British could be beaten.”

  “We need that,” Xan said, looking up. “We need to strike the alien base. Send in a team to blow up the reactors and send a message to those fuckers.”

  “Christ, Alexandra,” Comerford said, shaking his head. “We do that and we’ve got a bigger bullseye on our back.”

  “I’m not scared of the scuds.”

  Comerford grimaced. “We got children down here, several families…”

  “So send them away then. The time for running and hiding is over, Abe.” Xan looked over to Quarrels, who nodded, before she added, “It’s time to take the fight to the invaders.”

  Comerford ran a hand through his hair. His brow furrowed and finally he shook his head. “How the hell would you even get close enough to that place to strike a blow? They’ve got guards, drones, machines that watch day and night, and—”

  “But we’ve got something they might want,” Xan said, cutting Comerford off.

  There was a strained look on Comerford’s face. He couldn’t meet their eyes as he asked, “And what might that be?”

  Xan grinned. “Samantha.”

  Comerford stared at Xan hard enough to burn a hole through. “We are not doing anything right now, you hear me? I am not jumping to any conclusions until I sort this shit out.”

  “You saw the evidence, Abe,” Xan said.

  “I saw something. And evidence can be manipulated. The whole base is under lockdown until further notice. Nobody gets in or out without my permission. Do you copy that?”

  Xan gave Comerford’s words a flick of a nod. “Understood.”

  XAN AND QUARRELS retreated to a deserted spot at the rear of the silo, just beyond the area that contained the base’s water recirculation system. The hum of the machinery blotted out almost all sound, as Xan led Quarrels behind two enormous basins resembling above-ground pools that were connected via a series of tubes and conduits to header pumps and filters. The pair hugged the shadows cast by the basins.

  “How close are they to completing the bases?” Xan asked.

  “Which ones?” Quarrels asked. “Soon there’ll be a hundred out there.”

/>   “Which means we need to move now.”

  “What about Comerford?” Quarrels asked.

  There was a strained look on Xan’s face that she shook off. “He’s a water walker,” she said. “He’s an honest man, but he wants to find a safe way out of this.”

  “Even when he knows in his heart of hearts that there ain’t one,” Quarrels said.

  “We don’t need him anyway,” Xan said. “I’ve got a crew. Nine of the best fighters in this place. When the time comes, we’ll move.”

  “And the Marine’s daughter? Samantha?”

  Xan looked up. “I know where she is. We’ll take her with us.”

  Quarrels chewed on his lips. “Sounds like you got it all worked out, girl.”

  She sighed appreciatively. “Everything but your end of it.”

  Quarrels waved a hand. “Don’t worry about that. I talked to Rane and his boys. They’re ready to help. Question is, what do I get in return? I mean, if and when this invasion ends, there’s gonna be a power vacuum.”

  “And you plan to step into the breach?” Xan asked.

  “Why not me?”

  “A dictator?”

  “I prefer … benevolent strongman,” Quarrels replied with a smirk. “I’ve got the personality don’t I? I did a little bit of acting back in L.A.”

  “You said you were a magician for children’s birthday parties.”

  “That’s the toughest crowd you’ll ever play to,” Quarrels replied.

  He reached his hand into his jacket and brought forth a magician’s bouquet of fake flowers. He presented these to Xan. Her face was unreadable for several heartbeats. Then she flashed Quarrels a tight smile. “If we’re right about the armory, there’ll be plenty of weapons for everyone. I’ll take the guns and you can have the pharmaceuticals. There’s probably fentanyl oxy, enough to restock your shelves.”

  “Are you implying I’m a drug dealer?”

  “Aren’t you?” Xan asked.

  Quarrels grinned. “The drugs are fine, but I’d imagined getting a little more for showing you the way,” Quarrels said, laying his good hand on Xan’s wrist.

  Xan stared at him and her stomach turned over. Quarrels’s forehead was pearled with perspiration and he had a strange, unpleasant odor for which there were no polite words. The best she could come up with was that he reeked of old, sweaty socks that had been locked in a cedar box for several weeks. Still, she knew she needed him and the guy had been a looker once upon a time. He had a relationship with several of the better organized groups of road bandits, including a thug named Rane, and she’d need their assistance if there was any hope of truly striking a blow against the aliens. Reluctantly, she lowered her hand and squeezed the growing bulge between his legs. Quarrels exhaled and like all men, mistakenly took the manipulation of his sex organ as an invitation to intimacy. He leaned down to kiss her and she turned her face as he sloppily tongued one of her ears. His nearly fingerless hand groped her and she shuddered while pretending to enjoy it. Having been the only female member of an ROTC program back in high school, and one of only two women at a large construction company back in Arizona before the world rolled over, Xan had endured worse. She’d suffered whistles and verbal lashings and the occasional cupped hand under her buttocks and breasts. She knew what it was like to be a woman in a man’s world. Just as then, she was willing to bite the bullet, but the time was coming when she’d no longer need Quarrels and then she’d make him pay. Just like she’d do to Quinn and all the others who’d doubted her. After all, she was a patriot wasn’t she? She was a patriot and they were traitors. It was as simple as that.

  “You’re gonna go down in history, sweetness,” Quarrels said, his fetid breath hot on her neck.

  “That’s right,” she whispered back. “The first true martyr.”

  EVEN AFTER SHE rebuffed his requests for intercourse, Quarrels persisted, so Xan, in the shadows of the water basins, had continued to manually stimulate him. She heard him exhale and watched his eyes flutter and then she wiped off her hands that were warm and sticky. Turning, Xan felt something at the corners of her eyes. Tears, though they weren’t caused by regret or shame. No, the tears that stung her eyes were borne of grim determination. The enormity of what lay ahead had crept up and sucker-punched her. For a moment her resolve faltered, and then she remembered what they had access to. She thought about this and wiped the tears away, setting off as Quarrels called to her, “You leaving already?”

  She stopped and looked back.

  “I’ve got a secret I want to show you.”

  Quarrels smiled. “I like secrets.”

  Thirty paces later, they were standing in front of the unlocked metal door where Xan had ordered the armor, gear, and weapons of the Marines to be stored. She eased into the small room and flipped on a light. A bare bulb illuminated the gear that lay in a heap on the floor. The room stank of refrigerant and oil as Quarrels entered and picked up a set of Syndicate armor. He whistled. “Jesus. I seen this shit before, but never this close.”

  Xan shrugged on the set of armor that had belonged to Quinn, glad she’d never received the implant that would’ve made it or a Syndicate weapon cause damage to its user when used improperly. There was a sniper’s stillness about her as she felt the armor bend and contort around her body. She laughed to herself, feeling bulletproof in the ballistic cocoon.

  “Try a set on,” she said, but Quarrels wasn’t having any of it.

  “I prefer to go commando,” he said, kneeling and hoisting the kind of Fusion rifle the Marines once used. “That said, I will take one of these beauts.”

  Xan grabbed a Syndicate battle helmet, another rifle, and some additional gear which she tossed in a rucksack that was soon fitted over her shoulders like a backpack. She allowed herself the slightest of smiles. Everything was coming together. She had the resistance fighter named Bowen and a half-dozen other men and women ready to rise up when the time came. And when it did, she’d grab Samantha and they’d leave the silo, shooting their way out if it came to that. They’d seal the exterior blast doors with a small shaped charge, and then leave Shiloh behind for good. After that, they’d meet with Rane and his people, and then the final battle would begin. They would take the fight to the aliens and make sure they knew what real pain felt like. It would be something real. The destruction of the alien base would be remembered hundreds of years into the future as the day that the battle turned.

  Stepping back out of the room with Quarrels, Xan closed the metal door and aimed her rifle, firing an energized round that mutilated and melted the lock on the door. If someone wanted to get inside, they’d need a blowtorch now, she thought to herself. Somebody shouted at the echo of the rifle blast and Xan and Quarrels retraced their steps, vanishing into the shadows of a faraway catwalk.

  5

  The guards had left little to chance when they stashed Samantha down in a room at the bottom of the silo that housed an industrial heating and cooling coil. She’d escaped once and they’d be damned if she did it again. Three male resistance fighters, including a fighter in his late-twenties with glasses named Bowen, carried her in and shoved her to the ground and zipcuffed her arms together so tightly the circulation was nearly cut off.

  “Hey, watch it!” Samantha shouted, tugging her arms back, her ankles similarly bound. She sat on the ground, bound hands between her knees, staring up at the resistance fighters.

  “Make sure it’s extra tight,” Bowen said, stepping from the shadows, a pistol in his right hand.

  Samantha glared. “I’d like to talk to my lawyer.”

  “There aren’t any more lawyers left,” Bowen hissed.

  “Well I need to talk to somebody because you’re violating my Constitutional rights.”

  Bowen adjusted his glasses. “Yeah? Which ones?”

  “I’m pretty sure all of them.”

  Bowen smirked. “Once the world crapped itself, all the old rules and regulations went with it. All that Due Process horseshit? Out th
e window. We make our own rules now, snowflake.”

  “Is one of those rules that you’re gonna let me go?”

  Bowen shook his head and dropped on his haunches to face Samantha.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “If it involves me punching you in the face, then you’re onto something,” Samantha said.

  Bowen cocked his head. “We’ve got something extra special planned for you.”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve watching Scrappy Doo reruns, I’m pretty sure I can take whatever you dish out.”

  “You’re a real smartass. Sarcasm comes from fear, so I’m guessing you probably think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “But there’s a reason for what we’re doing.”

  “That’s the same thing every psycho says.”

  Bowen’s face flushed. “There was a man a very long time ago named Stephen Douglas who said there are only two sides in a war. Now we’ve got ourselves a war here—”

  “Wow. Really? I hadn’t noticed—”

  “And like Douglas said you’re either with us or you’re with the aliens. There aren’t any neutrals, only patriots and traitors.”

  “Which one am I?” Samantha asked.

  “You tell me. You tell me exactly what happened and explain what it all means and then I’ll go and talk to Xan for you.”

  Samantha’s brow knotted. “But how can I tell you what I don’t understand?”

  “Oh, come on!” Bowen thundered, rising, slapping a hand against his thigh. “Don’t give me that shit! I saw the phone! I know what you did!”

  “Then you know as much as I do.”

  Bowen shifted his weight, bringing his pistol around. “How did you do it? How did you blow those things up?”

  The other resistance fighters looked over at this, faces stitched with worry.

  “Cut the straps on my arms and I’ll show you,” Samantha replied.

  A dark smile tugged at the corner of Bowen’s mouth. He wagged the gun at Samantha. “You’re smarter than you look.”