Syndicate Wars: First Strike (Seppukarian Book 1)

by Kyle Noe

The road was long and narrow, falling apart in places out here in the desert, largely abandoned over the years. Large cities like Tokyo and New York had been built up to the extent that some apartment buildings rose hundreds of floors into the sky, and even a few luxury condos had been constructed on asteroids in orbit, but areas like this were largely abandoned. Who wanted to live in the arid deserts with the temperatures growing hotter every year?

  “Water,” he said, realizing how dry his mouth was with that thought.

  “Here you go, bud,” Luke said, pulling a canteen from under his seat. “Not much left, but we’re almost there, so we should be fine.”

  “Almost there?” Giovanni asked, as he put the plastic to his lips and felt the warm water on his tongue. He swished it around a bit and then noticed Luke watching him.

  “What?”

  “Look for yourself,” he said, and nodded ahead.

  They had just come over a bit of a hill. Giovanni hadn’t noticed because he was still mostly slumped back in the seat, and the chairs before him blocked the view. But now that he sat up, the sight took his breath away.

  This wasn’t the Vegas he had seen in old, cover-worn books. Instead, an oasis rose before him, once beautiful in its luxury resort status, now one of the last cities untouched by the Syndicate. An island in the desert of capital enterprise. Tall buildings, one shaped like a pyramid, another like a castle, were surrounded by tall trees, lush gardens and lakes, in what had likely been the largest irrigation project in history. And all for this luxury resort.

  Not to feed the homeless or support population growth in India, which had lately bloomed to twice that of China. Nope, it was to feed the habits of gambling and the rising legal red light districts of Vegas.

  According to Calee and Luke, the Syndicate had mostly made its move on big cities and areas with natural resources. Whatever equipment they were using must not have required what Vegas had to offer.

  Nobody had any doubt that the Syndicate would make their move eventually, though, since they were conscripting civilians too. So the idea was to get in, rendezvous with other Resistance teams, recruit as many as possible, and get back on the road.

  “Beautiful, ain’t she?” Calee said. “Came here once a couple years back, and paid for a year in college.”

  “Gambling woman, huh?” Giovanni shook his head. “Never had any luck at that myself.”

  “Forget gambling,” she said. “I took full advantage of men crazy enough to part with cash for a little fun.”

  Giovanni turned to her in shock. “You’re saying…”

  “Yes, I am. But I only went for the hot ones. The ones I woulda boned regardless, so figured why not make a little money at the same time.”

  “Classy, Calee,” Luke said, leaning over and shaking his head with a grin. “Real classy.” Then he leaned in close to Giovanni and said, “She’s only messing with you.”

  “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Calee said, laughing and throwing her hair back. “Point is, who’re you to judge me whether I’m a bit of a whore or a bit of a liar?”

  Giovanni frowned and shook his head, not taking the bait. Better to just let people like this play their games by themselves, in his opinion.

  “Your friend’s still no fun,” Calee said, to Luke. “Thought you would have rubbed off on him by now.”

  “I think he’ll be fun,” Luke said, “when fun means killing Syndicate and saving our planet.”

  She nodded approvingly. “Okay, I think we can work with that. But you’re gonna have to want something soon, instead of moping around like the world’s ended and there’s nothing left to look forward to. Or I’m gonna take you out before the SCUDs get a chance.”

  Giovanni shrugged. “Sure. I’ll find a hobby or something soon. Promise.”

  “Better,” Calee said. “Your name’s Italian, right?”

  “Second generation, but I don’t even like Italian food if I’m being honest.”

  “Only been to Italy once,” Calee said. “To study abroad.”

  Giovanni frowned, and looked to Luke for a reprieve.

  Luke twirled his finger in a circle next to his ear and mouthed, crazy.

  Giovanni forced a laugh. “Trust me, I’m the last one to judge about something like that.”

  Calee’s eyes went wide and she leaned forward to look at Luke, then nodded toward Giovanni. He could feel his cheeks redden by the second.

  “Calee, we’ve talked about boundaries,” Luke said. “Now’s one of those times.”

  She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, leaning back and looking away from them. “Here I am stuck with the two most boring of all Resistance fighters. This war will be so … incredibly … fun.”

  “Pretty sure wars aren’t supposed to be fun,” Giovanni said to Luke, who nodded and leaned back to look out at the approaching city.

  They drove in past tall palms and behind the Bellagio, past the replica of the Eiffel Tower and the one of the World Council Spire, tall and almost as majestic as the real one located in Brussels.

  They pulled into a parking garage near the Luxor, then drove down three levels before stopping near the stairwell.

  Now, in near darkness but for an orange light flickering nearby, the driver turned around and told them to wait. She hopped out and made for the stairwell door. After three quick knocks, she waited, glanced back, and lifted her hand again just as the door opened.

  She spoke briefly to a person inside the door, motioned for the group to follow, and then disappeared into the stairwell.

  “Ready for the time of your life?” Luke asked, as he hopped out of the jeep and offered Giovanni a hand out.

  He took it and jumped over the side, followed closely by Calee.

  “Thanks for the chivalry, dudes,” she said, with a hint of a smile, and led the way to the stairwell.

  They went up the stairs and made their way into the lobby of a large hotel. By the look of surprise on his face, Giovanni could tell Luke was looking at a sight he certainly hadn’t expected.

  Men and women were lined up, weapons in hand, training with fighting techniques. Others were sitting cross-legged in a semicircle around a tall man with a buzz cut, while several others were gathered around what looked like the red armor of a Syndicate warrior, analyzing it.

  “They turned Vegas into a training ground?” he asked, stunned.

  “You didn’t really expect to find gambling and whoring, did you?” Luke said, with a wink. “But no, for now that’s the deal, which is why we need to get everyone on the move. If the Syndicate attacks now, most of our forces would be wiped out.”

  “Or maybe we’d actually stand a chance.”

  Luke shook his head. “Not likely, not like this. Thing is, Gio, we need to find an advantage, or we’re doomed. What’s their weakness? Do they have one? If we don’t get answers to those questions soon … See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya. Except … I am. Ya there is me, us.”

  “Hence studying their armor,” Giovanni said, glancing over at the group again.

  “Precisely.”

  “So what’re we doing here again?”

  Luke motioned to the far end of the room, where a separate room appeared to be a staging area. “That’s where we’ll find the folks we’re meeting up with.”

  They headed over, and had just entered the room when someone shouted out, “No way, Giovanni, is that you?”

  Giovanni glanced around, caught off guard, and saw a face he somewhat recognized, though couldn’t place the name. He was a few inches taller than Giovanni, with black hair combed almost straight up, as if to hide that it was thinning. Stubble covered his face, and he had large bags under his eyes.

  “That is you!” the man said, snatching his hand up to shake it. “Holy cow, I mean, the Marines are teaming up with the Resistance now?”

  “Oh, that’s where I know you,” Giovanni said, avoiding the man’s question. “When Quinn was seeing her daughter off, you were there, right? Was it … Michael?”

&n
bsp; “Close, man. Close. Mackie.”

  “You’re a resistance fighter now?” A sudden thought hit Giovanni before the guy could answer. “And what does that mean for the little girl?”

  “Sammy, yes,” Mackie beamed. “She was safe last time I saw her. Tried to bring her here, but she marches to the beat of her own drum, if you know what I mean. Last I heard, she was holed up in some underground hideout, and it’s what keeps me here, knowing they have her and are keeping her safe. But there won’t be a they much longer if we don’t do our part.”

  “And you’re hoping to see Quinn,” Giovanni said, with a wink. “I remember the way you were looking at her that day. Don’t tell me that thought didn’t go through your head.”

  Mackie blushed, but looked around. “Is she here?”

  “Sorry, mate.” Giovanni put a hand on the man’s shoulder, and could see by the look in his eyes that he caught on.

  “Oh…” was all Mackie could get out.

  “Taken by them, and likely dead,” Giovanni said.

  Mackie shook his head. “If they took her, probably not. Haven’t you heard what they’re up to? Somehow they get these Marines to come back under their command and fight us.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “Way,” Luke said, appearing at Giovanni’s side. “It’s true, just verified it with the others. Looks like if we’re firing at the Syndicate, we’re firing against humans.”

  The whole concept made Giovanni’s head spin. He had guessed they were humanoid, or humans of some sort, but his own people? His fellow Marines, turned against them? He couldn’t believe it.

  “Come on,” Luke said, nodding Giovanni over. “Let’s grab some rest before the big trip.”

  They said farewell to Mackie and wished him luck, then headed over to the others.

  But Giovanni had just made up his mind. It wasn’t just about killing the Syndicate warriors anymore. It was about finding out if Quinn was up there, and making sure she knew that her daughter was still likely alive down here. She still had something worth fighting for.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: A Piece of the Truth

  Quinn wiped sweat from her brow. Her hair was plastered to her forehead as she leaned back inside the glider and lifted off her battle helmet. The air was tinged with the stench of refrigerant and sweat and the coppery odor of blood. Her ears hummed as the thrusters on the glider powered to max force, lifting her up into the stratosphere. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, nearly succumbing to a g-induced slumber.

  “Don’t go to sleep on me,” Hayden said.

  “Just resting my eyes,” she replied.

  She opened her eyes and looked across the glider to see Larry the alien staring at her as if trying to solve a mystery he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. She looked away and back to Hayden.

  “We were all moving in your wake down there,” he said.

  A ghost of a smile danced on her face.

  “You found a second gear,” Hayden added.

  “I only know how to play the game at one speed.”

  He smiled, then leaned in close. “You’re so far ahead of the curve that I figure I gotta ask how you see this whole thing ending.”

  “Not well.”

  “My sentiments exactly. Question is, how long do we have?”

  She considered this, wishing she could just lean back and go to sleep.

  “I think we’re like a pet to the Syndicate at the moment. Shiny and new and … useful. At some point we’ll cease to be useful.”

  He nodded and sucked on his teeth. “We need a plan.”

  “Working on it, Gunny.”

  “Don’t wait too long,” he said.

  She nodded as he leaned back, giving her space.

  “It’s like that old song says,” Quinn whispered to Hayden. “Long as you’re grooving, there’s always a chance.”

  “So groove on, kid. And don’t let us down,” he replied with a smile.

  Quinn closed her eyes, feeling the form of the silver object hidden inside her jacket as the glider torpedoed through the blackness of deep space, ferrying the Marines back to the Syndicate Mother Ship.

  She awoke as the glider docked and the Marines were ushered off. They marched across an equipment bay, where humans and Syndicate soldiers appeared to be preparing for other missions. Quinn shared a look with a female soldier, apparently kidnapped just like the Marines. She had a deadeye stare as she helped load missiles into a munitions pod mounted on the underside of another glider.

  Quinn wanted to call out to the woman, to ask where she was from and what unit she fought with, but what good would it have done? The past was past and the only thing that mattered now was finding a way to turn the tables on the Syndicate. With this thought in mind, Quinn turned away from the woman and marched through an inner airlock.

  Cody had been waiting for the Marines in an interior operations anteroom. He rose and held up his hands, jittery and smiling.

  “Hail the conquering heroes!” he shouted, in a slightly joking tone.

  The Marines were road weary and in no mood for his BS, however well intentioned. Quinn watched the others shrug off their body armor, stow their gear and weapons, and slump to the ground. She was careful not to reveal the silver object hidden inside her tactical vest, so she carefully unsnapped her armor and left the vest on, seating herself against a wall and keeping the silver object out of sight.

  “You guys kicked ass,” Cody said, standing before them.

  “We lost nine good people,” Hayden said, and turned away.

  “I already said a prayer for them.”

  “Fuck your prayers,” Milo snapped.

  Milo stood and looked like he was readying to throw a punch. Instead, he reached down to his open rucksack and pulled out the cell phone-sized object they had recovered on Earth. Milo made a move as to smash the device and Cody jumped forward, startled, as Milo smiled grimly and placed it in Cody’s hands.

  “I hope it was worth it,” Milo said.

  Cody nodded, trying to muster some false bravado.

  “I just want to thank all of you for what you did,” Cody said. “The Syndicate thanks you.”

  Renner looked over. “Does that mean we’re free to go?”

  Cody traded a nervous look with him. “One day, maybe, when this is all over, we’ll all get to go back.”

  “No offense, doctor, but that’s bullshit,” Hayden said, removing his compression shirt to reveal a muscular torso quilted with raised, scarified flesh. It looked like he’d been shot at least a half dozen times, sewn up, and then shot once more.

  Hayden stood before Cody, dwarfing him by five or six inches and at least sixty pounds.

  “Are we dismissed, sir?”

  Cody nodded nervously. “Sure, yeah, that’s cool. There’s someone waiting outside to guide you back to your quarters.”

  Cody gave a botched salute to Hayden, which the large man responded to with a profanity-laced mumble, motioning to the other Marines. They stood and exited the room. Quinn was the last to leave, the adrenaline having long left her body. Every muscle, every fiber in her frame ached as she hoisted her gear.

  “I know a secret,” Cody said.

  She squinted sideways at him.

  “I know something about you,” Cody continued.

  “Good for you,” she said, suppressing a shiver, the silver object feeling like a two-ton weight in her vest.

  “You liked it, didn’t you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cody.”

  “The Sunshine, Quinn. I know you took it. I saw how you performed.”

  “So what if I did? Why do you care?”

  “I’m a doctor. Granted, a doctor of science, but still … I’m curious.”

  “You’re a dealer.”

  “Difference without a distinction, Quinn.”

  She tapped her foot on the metal grating underfoot.

  “I was watching you the whole time, Quinn.”

  “Than
ks, Big Brother.”

  He smirked.

  “You did well,” Cody said. “Actually, you were doing well before you took a little of the ol’ Sunshine, and then you started kicking serious ass.”

  “I always kick ass, so unless you need something else…” She motioned to move past him.

  But Cody shuffled back a little and stayed in her way.

  “Look, both of us know you’d likely kick my ass in five seconds.”

  “More like two,” Quinn said.

  Cody swallowed hard. Quinn’s gaze smoked into his and he looked away, uncomfortable.

  “Are we done here, Cody?”

  “I’m not a bad guy, Quinn.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what Hitler said to Marshal Petain.”

  “What?”

  “World War Two reference. Vichy regime in France. Look it up.”

  “You a student of history, Quinn?”

  “Milo is, but not me. I’m just well-versed in assholes.”

  Quinn brushed past Cody and felt the silver object dislodge. She cursed and groped for it as it squirted free from the inside of her vest. Before Quinn could react, the object had hit the ground and spun to a stop in front of Cody. He lowered himself and grabbed the object, then held it up.

  “Well, well. What’s this?”

  Quinn didn’t immediately respond.

  “Quinn?” Cody asked.

  “I found it during the assault,” she answered.

  “It’s contraband.”

  “I wasn’t specifically briefed on that.”

  Cody smirked and wedged the object into a pocket on his cargo pants.

  “What are you gonna do?” she asked.

  “Not a thing. This will be our little secret,” Cody said, with a wink.

  ***

  Seething, Quinn hustled after the other Marines, eventually catching up with them down one of the impossibly long corridors on the mother ship. Renner had cued up an old James Brown song, the music piping through a tiny speaker in his battle helmet that he carried like a football.

  “We were wondering where you were,” Milo said.

  “Please don’t tell me you were pleasuring the good doctor,” Renner said, grooving to the music.

  “Fuck you,” Quinn shot back.