When it came to telepathic struggles, on the other hand, creativity and willpower were everything. There still must’ve been some energy exchange involved, it was just abstract enough—and apparently insignificant enough—that she’d never deemed it necessary to worry about. But maybe she was just a brute.
She knew some arcanists used subtlety and trickery to protect their minds, but that had never suited Rachel. She conjured her defense in much the same way as she constructed barriers to protect from physical attack, forging her will into walls of heavy, impenetrable steel. In this case, instead of channeling the energy to actually conjure a physical construct, she simply held her wall of will in her mental space.
Somewhere, a particularly adept arcanist was probably rolling over in their grave.
She added layer after layer of hard steel to her mental fortress, leaving a tiny way open like a kind of mental arrow-slit through which she could launch her own attack. Finally, when the mental construct was ready, she nodded. As immersed in her mental space as she was, the physical movement felt odd, and her voice sounded distant.
“Now, Alaric.”
She didn’t need him to tell her when he’d deactivated the King’s cloak—no more than she would’ve needed someone to tell her she was going to get wet when she was already standing under a waterfall.
The King’s mind crashed into her ramparts like a force of nature. She fought down panic and held her ground as the alien presence backed away then slammed into her again.
On the third surge, she formed her will into a spear and hurled it forth at the oncoming titan. It hit with all the potency of a wood tip on steel armor. She drew back to her defenses to regroup. In the distance, something cracked—was it her knuckles?—as she grit down and thrust her mental lance forward against the next attack.
The King’s presence plowed through her attack and slammed into her defenses once more.
This wasn’t working. She needed to do something. But what?
She might be able to stand her ground against the King’s battery for a bit longer, but the only minds she’d ever invaded had been non-telepaths, which offered as much resistance as unlocked doors. The Red King was a ferocious predator. Even if she had the raw chops to go toe-to-toe with him, she sure as hell didn’t have the experience. She might as well be a big lovable house dog trying to cross fangs with a wild wolf.
She might as well give up.
No. Not when Michael was lying comatose just down the hall. Not after all the pain they’d gone through in the past week—hell, in the past fifteen years. The raknoth had made a smoldering wreck of their planet. They’d hurt her and the people she cared about in more ways than she could count, and she had it in her to make the scaly green bastards pay for it.
If this son of a bitch had answers that could help Michael, she was going to take them.
Maybe she was a house dog trying to take on a wolf, but right now, that wolf was fucking with her family, and she’d be damned if she was going to run away with her tail between her legs.
She dropped her wall and surged forward with everything she had, vaguely aware that someone—was that her?—was crying out wordlessly in the distance as she did so.
The King met her head on in the telepathic analogue of a high-speed car crash. The constructs of their wills smashed together, deforming and twisting in upon one another. From there, the struggle morphed into something more akin to a wrestling match—intermingled tendrils of their wills struggling back and forth for control, clawing and scraping to find any weakness or purchase.
Rachel struggled for what might been five seconds or five minutes. There was no burning of tired muscles or aching of beaten body parts, only an intrepid, creeping decline in the speed and efficacy of each one of her mental maneuvers as their conflict raced from one bulging weak point to another. Attack and counterattack. Back and forth again and again.
At some point, there were voices in the faraway space of the cell, but she was too focused and too tired to hear them. She kept fighting and tried to gauge whether the Red King was tiring as she was. Given the fact that they were still going, she imagined he must be, but soon enough, she was too tired to even worry about that.
Minutes slogged by. The aches and pains and burning had definitely set in now. Or maybe that was all in her head. She couldn’t tell anymore.
A part of her—and not a small part—screamed at her to call for Alaric to make it stop. She was contemplating listening to that part when the expansive pressure of the Red King’s mind vanished. Gone, just like that.
She curled her mind into a defensive ball, reaching for her walls again, suspecting some devious trickery.
There was a voice again from outside and something… shaking her?
Slowly, cautiously, she eased partially out of her mental space and back toward her physical senses. When the King didn’t come springing out of the darkness, she flung herself back into the confines of her body and shouted, “Cloak, Alaric! Now!”
Or tried to, at least. What came out sounded a lot more like a string of incoherent mumbles, but it was hard to tell whether that was due to her failure to get the words out or simply because of the blurring disorientation that engulfed her.
Darkness spotted her vision—or maybe it was vision that spotted her darkness—and her mouth felt like she’d just chewed an entire bag of cotton balls. For a second, she could barely move.
“Rachel!”
Jarek’s voice. And there was something else.
The world resolved back into sense rather suddenly. She recognized the growl-hiss of the King’s laughter. Lea’s face hovered above her, upside down.
Upside down? Ah. Because her head was resting in Lea’s lap—that was it.
“What—”
“It’s okay,” Lea said, squeezing her arm. “We pulled the plug. Alaric reactivated the cloak.”
More laughter from the Red King, and then a thump and a growl—presumably Jarek punching him again.
Jarek appeared beside her. “Let’s get her out of here.”
“Hey,” she mumbled, “I’m right here, you—hey!”
Jarek scooped her up as if she had all the heft of a cardboard box. She planted a palm on Fela’s chest plate. “Put me down.”
“You’re tired,” he said.
“You’re a chauvinist.”
He paused and lowered her gently to her feet. “You know I don’t do so well with the big words.”
She was too busy trying to keep from falling over to come up with any witty retort.
Lea moved to get the door. Rachel scowled down at the King as Jarek scooted her toward it. The raknoth stared back silently, eyes smoldering crimson.
“Arcanist,” the King said just before she reached the doorway.
She traded a surprised look with Jarek and turned.
“The battle was well fought.” The King didn’t bother trying to look around at them from the cot as he spoke. “But your efforts are in vain. The rakul will come. None of us can stop it now.”
“Rakul?” She glanced around at the others. “What’s the rakul?”
“They are the harvesters,” the King said. “The harbingers of our retribution.”
Rachel glanced at Jarek to see if he was as confused as her. He rolled his hand in a Keep him moving gesture.
“And these harvesters are coming here? The nest called them? What about my brother? What did the nest do to him?”
That cold grin returned to the King’s lips. “You need not worry about your brother. Or anything else. We will all be dead soon enough.”
“Because of the rakul?” Rachel asked. “What are they? How much time do we have?”
The King said nothing to that or to the next dozen questions they all lobbed at him. Apparently he’d said all he intended to say. Jarek looked like he was thinking about trying to punch a few more answers out of the raknoth, but then he looked her over and changed his mind. “Let’s get you back to medical.”
She must hav
e looked as bad as she felt, which was bad enough that she didn’t argue.
Lea and Jarek hovered close to her as if worried she might collapse on the way. They explained how she’d fallen to her knees and cried out multiple times during the mental battle. In total, the whole thing had lasted only a few minutes, as opposed to what had felt like half an hour or more from her perspective.
The toll of her efforts must’ve still been noticeable by the time they arrived back at medical, judging by the once over Pryce gave her from Michael’s bedside.
“Looks like we have a new patient to admit,” he said.
“More like a fierce warrior princess,” Jarek said. He ignored her half-hearted effort to push him away and saw her safely into her chair by Michael’s bed. “She just bumped brains with Stumpy hard enough to get his creepy raknoth approval, I think.”
Pryce gave her an impressed nod.
She leaned forward to rest her elbows heavily on her knees. “Moving on to more pertinent matters, anyone have a guess as to what the hell a rakul is?”
“They’re the harvesters,” Jarek said. “It’s like you weren’t even paying attention.”
She glared at him.
“Rakul?” Pryce asked.
“Our champion earned us that cryptic tidbit from old red-eyes,” Jarek said.
“He also said they were bringing our retribution,” Alaric said.
Pryce stroked at his chin. “Cryptic with a side of vague, hmm?”
“Least satisfying meal ever,” Jarek said. “Although he did also say we’d all be dead soon.”
Pryce’s fingers paused mid-stroke. “Oh.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Is anyone else picturing a giant tentacled blob flying out of the darkness to swallow our entire planet whole?” Jarek finally asked.
Rachel frowned at him. “Well now…”
“I was veering the other way in terms of scale,” Pryce said, “like a swarm of microorganisms sweeping over the planet and consuming all the organic matter it encounters. Or something. Just spit balling here.”
“Lovely imagery, both of you,” Alaric said, “but I think we oughta get a tad more information before you go thinking too hard. Meanwhile, we just keep an eye out for anything strange.”
“Not a bad plan,” Pryce said. He turned his thoughtful gaze on her. “What are the chances our fierce warrior princess could extract more information?”
She shook her still fuzzy head. “I wouldn’t count on it. I came at him with everything I had, all in, and it barely seemed to bother him.” She scowled. “I just don’t have the experience with this stuff. Maybe if I practiced, but…”
“I’d like to think I have a strong mind,” Pryce said, “and the King punched through it like wet paper. You did exceptionally well. I wouldn’t beat yourself up about it.”
It wasn’t the same. Pryce was gifted in his own way, but he wasn’t a telepath. He’d never really had a chance once the King had ruined his glyph. She wanted to point this out, but if anyone else in the room already understood that, it was probably Pryce, and he was choosing to pay her the compliment anyway. So she shrugged and said nothing.
The low buzz of a comm broke the silence. Lea glanced at her wrist. “My mom,” she said. “Be right back.”
Lea stepped outside to take the call. The commanders had no doubt been eagerly awaiting news since they’d granted their little mind-jacking team access to the Red King this morning.
Hopefully they weren’t expecting it to be the good kind. She sure as hell hadn’t found any for Michael. That fact hung heavier on her head than any fatigue could.
She’d just have to try again. She probably wasn’t going to take the King in a head-on fight anytime soon, but she could try talking to him again, and they could always try other ways. There was even the chance the universe could decide to be kind for once and Michael might just wake up on his own. She wouldn’t hold her breath on that one. She’d just keep trying until she found some answers.
“Why did he say ‘we’?” Jarek asked the silent room. “We will all be dead soon, he said. Not you. We. Like he was boned too.”
“Maybe they pissed off these harvester things,” Rachel said.
“That would fit with the warning the Reds broadcasted after you three escaped the Fortress,” Pryce said. “It’s a sound hypothesis given what little data we have.”
“Great,” Jarek said. “So we should be looking for the raknoth mob to come flying in for a planetary drive-by?”
No one jumped to offer an answer, and before they had much of a chance, Lea shuffled back into the room looking a few shades too pale.
“What is it?” Rachel asked.
“There’s been a report.” Lea directed her distracted gaze toward Alaric. “Strange activity. Down near Philadelphia.”
“Strange how?” Pryce asked.
“There were multiple sightings of a weird ship around the area yesterday.”
“And?” Jarek asked.
Lea snapped back from whatever funk she was in and looked around at them as if wondering why their jaws weren’t touching the floor.
“They’re saying it looked like something from another planet.”
4
After fifteen years spent mostly alone and often in an exosuit, Jarek tended to see things differently than most. Take the news of a strange, possibly out-of-this world ship being spotted poking around Philadelphia, for instance. Where everyone else seemed to think it grave, ominous news, Jarek was mostly just glad to have a direction to go looking.
Sure, there was also the itty-bitty concern that this mystery ship could be harboring something that had a freaking raknoth ready to lay down and accept death. But it couldn’t be much worse than sitting around HQ for another day, right?
“So…” He looked around at the others. “Everyone to the ship?”
Lea’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “You want to go?”
“What, you think I’ve been hanging around here for the company? I just wanna make sure my ass isn’t gonna get eaten if I turn it around and saunter back to my little corner.”
In truth, he couldn’t quite say why he was so set on getting to the bottom of this thing. Self-preservation was one angle, that was true. But there was more to it. The threat of some dreadful impending doom had him captivated, like a horrific slow-motion car crash he just couldn’t look away from. And on top of that, maybe he didn’t want to see the people in this room get hurt.
Or maybe he’d just watched the old Star Wars movies one too many times and had delusions of grandeur floating around in his subconscious.
Could Jarek Slater be the one to save the world and restore balance to the Force?
Probably not. But if the shit was about to hit, he’d sure as hell rather face it beside Pryce and Rachel and the others than fly off and see what Catastrophe 2.0 looked like from a distance.
“This sounds like a wild goose chase to me,” Alaric said.
“The Red King tells us these rakul guys are bringing the retribution and then a strange ship is spotted the next day,” Lea said. “You don’t think that sounds a little funny?”
“Sounds plenty funny,” Alaric said. “But not like proof.”
“Gee, sounds like someone should go have a look,” Jarek said.
“Since when are you so gung-ho to get involved?” Rachel asked.
“You’re telling me you’re not chomping at the bit to go see the alien space ship… from space?”
“Maybe if we had even half a reason to believe this isn’t just some made up bullshit.” Rachel’s gaze shifted back toward Michael. “But I can’t really leave right now anyways.”
That earned a sympathetic stretch of silence.
“I don’t know about the goose chase,” Alaric said, “but if you’re set on going, I might trouble you for that ride back to Deadwood.”
After a moment’s irritation, Jarek inclined his head. “Guess a deal’s a deal. What’s a tiny detour across the co
untry?”
Lea looked crestfallen. “You’re not staying?” she asked Alaric.
Jarek was wondering the same thing, especially in light of the private conversation he’d had with the old Resistance legend on the way to HQ a couple days past—the one where Alaric had basically condemned himself for having run off to escape his problems in the first place.
Alaric didn’t meet Lea’s eyes, or anyone else’s for the matter. “My people deserve an explanation.”
It wasn’t exactly an answer to Lea’s question, but it also didn’t have the air of finality. Jarek wasn’t about to prod him for more. Alaric was caught in a tough choice between the town that looked to him for order and protection and a wayward son who’d probably rather kill him than talk at this point. More than that, though, he was a grown-ass man. And far be it from Jarek to question a grown man’s prerogative to run screaming from his problems.
“The commanders are getting a team together to go investigate these reports,” Lea said. “I’m sure you could talk to them about getting a ride back with—”
“Jarek’s ship’ll work just fine,” Alaric said.
“Oh, yeah,” Jarek said. “Make yourself at home. Definitely do that.”
Alaric touched his fingers to the brim of an imaginary hat.
“Joke’s on you, cowboy,” Jarek said. “You have to come hunting aliens with me first. Do we know exactly who and where this lead came from, by the way?” he asked Lea.
Lea looked uncertainly between him and Alaric. “I could find out. If you let me come with you.”
“Seriously?”
Lea spared a glance toward Michael before answering. “I don’t want to be sitting around HQ if there’s a chance I can help figure out what’s going on.”
“Sure, sure,” Jarek said. “And the reason you can’t go with your fellow Resistance team is…”
“She’s not Alpha team,” Alaric said.
Lea nodded. “And Mama Daniels is pretty careful about not bending rules for her daughter.”
The Complete Harvesters Series Page 27