The desert stretched endlessly before them, a barren expanse of dunes and jagged rocks illuminated by the twin moons of Kynara. The hover truck hummed steadily as it traversed the rugged terrain, its cloaked exterior blending into the shadows. Ethan sat in the driver's seat, his focus divided between the navigation system and the faint outlines of the rocky outcrops ahead. Beside him, Zyrix Korran lounged with his plasma sniper rifle resting across his lap, his relaxed posture betraying the sharp vigilance in his eyes.
"This better be worth it," Zyrix muttered, scanning the horizon.
"It will be," Ethan replied, his voice steady. He didn't look away from the path ahead, though his mind churned with apprehension. The coordinates they were following were a tightly guarded secret, provided only after extensive negotiation between the guild branch master and Joran Kren's inner circle. Even getting permission for this meeting had been a monumental challenge.
Joran Kren wasn't known for welcoming outsiders, especially not mercenaries. His resistance faction, hidden deep in the northern desert, had long waged a guerrilla war against the Syndicate. To them, the guild was little better than the Syndicate itself, a group of profit-driven opportunists looking to exploit Kynara for their own gain.
Zyrix broke the silence again. "You know this guy's not going to roll out the red carpet, right? If anything, we're walking into a den of wolves hoping they don't bite."
"I know," Ethan said. "But we don't have a choice. If Vela Drasik's forces keep growing, we won't be able to hold the line on our own."
The truck slowed as they approached the coordinates. Emerging from the dunes was a fortified settlement, its natural barriers augmented by reinforced walls and concealed turrets. The structure seemed to rise out of the desert itself, a testament to the resistance's resourcefulness.
Ethan and Zyrix stopped at the outer gate, where a squad of heavily armed guards greeted them with weapons drawn. Their armor was cobbled together from salvaged Syndicate gear, and their expressions were anything but welcoming.
"State your business," one of the guards barked, his weapon trained on Ethan.
"We're here to meet Joran Kren," Ethan said evenly, raising his hands slightly to show he wasn't a threat.
The guard's eyes narrowed. "Step out of the vehicle. Slowly."
Ethan complied, motioning for Zyrix to follow. They were patted down and their weapons confiscated, standard protocol but the tension in the air was palpable.
"Don't wander," the guard warned, gesturing for them to follow.
The walk through the settlement was an exercise in restraint. Resistance fighters lined the pathways, their eyes boring into Ethan and Zyrix with open hostility. The air buzzed with the activity of a community always on edge, fighters checking weapons, engineers maintaining defenses, and medics tending to wounded comrades.
"Friendly bunch," Zyrix muttered under his breath.
"They've got every reason not to trust us," Ethan replied quietly.
They were led to a central command tent, its interior stark and utilitarian. A large map of Kynara dominated the room, pinned to a table surrounded by a handful of resistance officers. At the head of the table stood Joran Kren.
Joran was a tall, lean man with weathered features and piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through a person. His stance was relaxed, but there was a coiled tension in his frame, like a predator ready to strike.
"So," Joran said, his voice cold and cutting. "The mercenaries finally crawl out of their safe little city to see how the real war is fought."
Ethan ignored the insult, meeting Joran's gaze steadily. "We're here because we want to end the Syndicate's hold on Kynara. Same as you."
Joran's lips twitched in something between a smirk and a sneer. "Is that so? Forgive me if I don't believe you. Mercenaries don't fight for justice, they fight for credits. Why should I trust anything you say?"
Zyrix leaned against the table, his tone light but firm. "You think we'd be here if we didn't mean business? Trust me, there are easier ways to make a living than dealing with Syndicate scum."
Joran's gaze flicked to Zyrix, then back to Ethan. "You talk a good game. But the guild hasn't exactly been a beacon of hope for Kynara's people. Where were you when the Syndicate started carving up the outposts? Where were you when they started their experiments?"
Ethan didn't flinch. "We can't change the past, but we're here now. Xelthar is dead. His operations are dismantled. And Vela Drasik is next."
Joran's expression hardened. "Don't compare killing one warlord to what we've endured. You took down Xelthar because it suited you, not because you cared about the people suffering under his rule."
The words hit a sore spot, but Ethan knew not to act out and kept his calm. "We did it because it was necessary. And now we're asking for your help because we both know the Syndicate won't stop with us. If Vela consolidates her forces, it won't just be our territory at risk...it'll be yours, too."
Joran's fists tightened against the table. "And why should I believe you won't turn on us the second it's convenient?"
Ethan took a step closer, his voice low but firm. "Because we have nothing to gain by fighting each other. The Syndicate is the real enemy here. If we don't work together, they'll pick us off one by one. You've seen what they're capable of. Is your distrust of us worth risking everything you've fought for?"
The room fell silent, the weight of Ethan's words settling over the gathered officers.
After a long pause, Joran straightened. His gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained guarded. "Fine. A conditional alliance. You get our help against Vela, but we keep our autonomy. And if you step out of line, the deal's off."
"Agreed," Ethan said without hesitation.
Joran gestured to the map. "There's a supply depot near Vela's manufacturing hub. It's critical to her operations. We hit it hard and fast, together. If this alliance works, maybe we'll talk about future plans."
Ethan nodded. "When do we start?"
"Tomorrow night," Joran said. He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Ethan's. "Don't make me regret this."
As Ethan and Zyrix were escorted back to the hover truck, the tension in the air remained thick. Even with Joran's reluctant agreement, the alliance felt fragile. It was built more on necessity than trust.
Once they were safely out of the settlement and back on the open desert, Zyrix exhaled. "Well, that went better than I expected."
"Barely," Ethan replied, gripping the wheel tightly. "He doesn't trust us. I don't blame him."
"Trust doesn't matter right now," Zyrix said. "Results do. We hit that depot, and we hit it hard."
Ethan nodded, his resolve hardening. The fight against the Syndicate was about to escalate, and there was no turning back.