The Complete Harvesters Series

by Luke R. Mitchell

  This was bad. Worse than bad.

  And this time, her sleeve was woefully devoid of aces.

  It was hard to tell what was ahead by the shaky light as they charged forward, but she thought she saw the suggestion of an end to the hallway in the far reaches of the light. Jarek couldn’t have been running for more than a minute. Even with her in his arms and Elise clinging to his back, Jarek could really haul ass, she’d give him that—even if Fela deserved most of the credit.

  The ride was surprisingly smooth, too, considering. She wasn’t sure whether Elise could say the same back on her perch, but Jarek managed to keep Rachel steady enough in his arms that she almost could have forgotten she was being carried by a running man if she closed her eyes and tried.

  The things he could do in that suit were impressive. Maybe not impressive enough to turn back an army and save the Resistance, but she could hope, right?

  No. What she could do was stand right beside the big wise-ass and turn the tide with him—maybe even while making sure neither of them died in the process.

  The darkness ahead gave way to Fela’s external lights and resolved into a door that looked old and heavy and rusted around the edges. Muffled shouts and a few gunshots came through the door as Jarek drew to a halt and gently lowered Rachel to her feet.

  Alton pulled up behind them and deposited a very disgruntled-looking Phineas to his feet.

  Elise hopped off Jarek’s back, shifted uncomfortably, and pulled her staff from the sheath on her back. “We should make you a saddle.”

  “Pryce would have a field day with that one,” Jarek muttered.

  Al must have provided the code directly to Jarek’s ear, because he tapped in five digits without hesitation.

  The gnawing fear in Rachel’s stomach was paralyzing as Jarek pulled the door open and stepped into the sounds of chaos. She found her focus through sheer force of will and followed after him.

  HQ was in tumult. That much was immediately clear, but at least she didn’t hear any gunfire at the moment.

  The back door emerged into a tiny side hallway that fed directly into the common room after a single turn.

  Rachel spared a glance back to make sure the others were through and the door was shut behind them—and, maybe, to double-check that Alton’s eyes weren’t glowing raknoth red—then she moved into the common room on Jarek’s flank.

  Large chunks of rubble were piled in one corner of the common room along with several dark-clad forms, still and lifeless on the concrete floor. The corner had apparently caved in, but it looked like the Resistance had somehow patched the ceiling. It wasn’t pretty, but at least it wasn’t open to the lot above. For now.

  Resistance troops lined the perimeter of the room, most of their weapons trained toward the corner despite the lack of any immediate threat. Alaric and Nelken stood with them, each holding an assault rifle. Alaric bent to say something to Haldin, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him, eyes closed and back resting against the wall.

  Haldin seemed to rouse marginally. Rachel felt a tendril of his mind brush lightly against her own. He said something to Alaric, and Alaric’s gaze shot over to them, followed by Nelken’s. Nelken beckoned, and they hurried over to join the commanders.

  “Hell of a party you’ve got here,” Jarek said when they were close enough to speak quietly.

  Above, the boots stomping across the lot were numerous enough to be plainly heard over the whispers in the room like the falling of some obscenely thick rain on their humble shelter.

  “The Overlord?” Alaric asked.

  “Still alive,” Jarek said. “And probably not far behind us. They must’ve tracked Mose—Seth to find this place.”

  Alaric gave Jarek a look that might have been frustrated or accusing, then he gave a conciliatory nod. “Figured the same.”

  “What’s going on up there?” Rachel asked.

  “Haldin’s giving them hell, as far as we can tell,” Nelken said.

  A pair of detonations above shook the room and punctuated his remark, kicking loose a shower of dust in the process.

  Elise crouched down by Haldin and put a hand on his shoulder, her own eyes drifting shut.

  “He sealed up the first breach they managed,” Alaric added. “Not really sure how, but it’s still only a matter of time before they punch through.”

  “That’s a lot of men up there,” Jarek agreed. “Raknoth too, I’m guessing. Not sure how we’re getting out of this one.”

  Alaric scowled at Jarek. “Well I reckon killing their Overlord would’ve been a good place to start.”

  “You’re right.” Jarek jabbed a finger at Alaric. “I’ll let you have at him next round, cowboy.”

  “Gentlemen,” Nelken said, “I think we have more pressing matters at hand.”

  Matters like making sure Michael was alive and safe—or as safe as he could be right now, at least.

  “I’m going to medical,” Rachel said. “I need to check on Michael.”

  “I’ll come,” Elise said, rejoining their huddle. “I need to find Johnny.”

  Rachel nodded at her and the commanders. Her eyes lingered a moment longer on Jarek’s.

  “Be safe,” he said.

  “Yeah,” she said, “coming from you.”

  He shot her a wink, then his helmet gave a whirring groan, and he frowned at the dented edges where his faceplate used to be. “Shit. Forgot I was flying without protection. Pretend that was dramatic.”

  Rachel turned and set off down the adjacent hallway, praying that wouldn’t go down in the books as their last interaction.

  She did her best to work through the ranks without too much pushing. A glance back confirmed Elise was with her.

  Of the two roughly equidistant routes leading to medical, the hallway straight ahead past the council chamber was far more congested with armed Resistance traffic, so Rachel cut right down the less crowded hallway. Halfway down its length, three—no, four—explosions rocked the base from the direction of the common room, shaking more dust loose, right along with Rachel’s resolve.

  Her step faltered. She traded a worried glance with Elise and saw her own question reflected in Elise’s wide blue eyes.

  Did they go back?

  The explosion that boomed from the other side of HQ a second later jolted them back into action.

  Jarek, Haldin, Alaric, all the others—they were big boys. They could handle themselves better than most, in this base or otherwise. Definitely better than Michael, who very well wasn’t even conscious right now.

  They rounded left at the next junction, moving at a hard run now. Gunfire erupted from ahead, or maybe it was from behind. Worse, it might have been from both directions. The network of looping hallways made it hard to tell for sure.

  At the corner, Rachel darted across the hall and into the cover of medical’s doorway before peering down the next hallway.

  Resistance troops were likewise taking what cover they could in doorways. Further down, Commander Daniels herself was leading the way in returning fire on the dark-clad men fighting their way out of the cells they’d apparently breached at the end of the hallway.

  Rachel turned to see Elise peeking out from the corner she’d just skipped over from, holding a dark pistol at the ready.

  Elise inclined her head toward medical, and her voice entered Rachel’s head though her lips didn’t move, “Go.”

  Rachel only thought about arguing for a split second before she nodded and hurried to the back room.

  Michael’s bed was empty.

  Her stomach went into free fall. Then a flicker of motion caught her eye, and she turned, staff flying up to point down the raised barrel of a handgun, and—

  She sucked in a breath then blew it out, tension bleeding from her chest and shoulders as she lowered her staff.

  On the other side of the pistol, Michael did the same and lowered his gun. Beside him, Pryce lowered his own pistol and patted at his chest over his heart.

 
“Jesus, Rache,” Michael said, “you scared the—”

  She stepped briskly forward and pulled him into a hard but brief hug. He returned her squeeze, and she pulled back.

  “Good to see you on your feet, Spongehead.” She turned to Pryce. “Thanks for sticking with him.”

  Pryce opened his mouth only to be cut off by another wall-shaking explosion close by.

  “We need to get out of here,” Pryce said. “Is Zar’Golga—”

  “Alive,” Rachel said. “We barely made it out ourselves.”

  “Out of the frying pan…” Pryce said, looking around as if plotting potential escape routes.

  “I need to go help them,” Rachel said.

  “We’ve got your back,” Michael said, shuffling forward.

  “Michael, you’ve been unconscious for the past—”

  “We’ll be safer with you anyway,” Michael said.

  “Plus,” Pryce said, “if you happen to decide it’s time to abandon ship, I’d rather not be squirreled away back here.”

  Rachel wasn’t so sure abandoning ship was even a remote possibility at this point, but they raised fair points either way, and they didn’t exactly have time to argue. For all they knew, Golga’s men could breach through right above their heads at any moment.

  “Okay. You’ve got your bullet catcher, Spongehead?”

  Michael patted the spot where the device must’ve been clipped to his belt beneath his shirt.

  “All right then.” She paused by the door back to the hallway. “Cover our asses, Spongehead. Pryce, you stay between us so—”

  “Catcher fields,” Pryce said. “Overlapping. Got it.”

  She almost smiled despite herself. “Right. Let’s go.”

  Elise was nowhere in sight when Rachel stepped into the hallway. Commander Daniels had been pressed back toward medical, and at least four of her soldiers had fallen, but those who remained fought on grimly.

  A few of Golga’s troops shifted their fire from the Resistance forces to Rachel, apparently expecting an easy target.

  Bullets slammed into the edge of her catcher’s field, each one tearing to a halt and falling harmlessly to the floor until she was treading over a trail of spent lead through suddenly frigid air.

  She raised her staff and threw a column of telekinetic force at the densest group of enemy soldiers. Another soldier yanked out a grenade and pulled the pin. Rachel reached out and telekinetically swatted the live grenade from his hand before he could throw it.

  Everyone who saw it threw themselves out of the hallway and into the nearest available rooms, but the blast still caught a few enemy soldiers. Even with the gunfire ringing in her ears, the explosion was nearly deafening in the small hallway space. A wave of hot air slammed against the barrier Rachel had erected, peppered with bits of shrapnel.

  A triplet of gunshots barked just behind her, and she glanced to see more dark-clad troops rounding from the hallway behind them. Spent lead fell to the ground at Michael’s feet as the catcher did its work. Too much lead. Michael and Pryce’s breaths steamed out of their mouths in the frigid cold the catchers inflicted on their patch of hallway.

  The breeze of equilibrating air swept at her hair as she shifted her staff around, aiming to disrupt the worst of the attack on their flank.

  She was drawing energy for her attack when a vast telepathic presence swept through the hall, parting around her as if she were a tiny boulder in the middle of powerful river.

  Rachel froze, pulling her mental defenses tight around her. That presence wasn’t human—she was sure of that much.

  With her defenses as arranged as she had time to manage, she rechecked their surroundings, expecting to find enemy soldiers closing in on them from both sides.

  Golga’s men were frozen in place along the hallway, standing at attention with eerie, silent precision.

  “What the f—”

  At a creak from behind, Rachel spun, staff raised.

  Given that they were the only serviceable cover in the hallway, all the cell doors had been thrown open during the firefight. All but the two doors guarding Seth Mosen and Al’Drogan. And now, the closer of the two doors was opening with a groan of creaky hinges while Golga’s troops looked on in absolute stillness.

  Daniels watched with a tight jaw, and the remaining Resistance soldiers looked around in fear and confusion, most of them probably wondering whether they shouldn’t just gun their oddly still foes down while they had the chance. Rachel couldn’t say she wasn’t wondering the same thing.

  The cell door finished opening, and Elise emerged. Al’Drogan strode out behind her, completely unchained, fiery-red eyes sweeping the hallway.

  Some gasped. Others cursed. And every Resistance agent in the hallway pointed their weapons at Drogan.

  Elise patted the air with her hands. “It’s okay, everyone.”

  “Easy, guys,” Johnny added as he stepped out of the room behind them, holding the odd assault rifle he carried in as non-threatening a way as possible. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “Are you crazy?” one of the Resistance soldiers demanded, keeping his rifle trained on Drogan while trying to simultaneously keep a wary eye on the creepily still enemies at his back. “That bastard will—”

  Commander Daniels silenced him with a raised hand, glancing around at Golga’s unmoving troops with only a tad more confidence. “You’d better explain yourself quickly then,” she said to Johnny. “Because it certainly looks like you’re attempting to spring the Red King from custody.”

  Johnny held up a finger then gave a conciliatory nod. “Okay. It’s exactly what it looks like. But! The King here is the only thing keeping these guys”—he gestured at the frozen troops—“from going all shooty-shooty-stabby-stabby right now. You don’t have to call him buddy, but he’s on our side right now.”

  “Bullshit,” the Resistance soldier said.

  Daniels didn’t look like she necessarily disagreed.

  “Those are his friends attacking us out there,” another added. “I say we kill the bastard while we can.”

  Elise bent an eyebrow at Rachel. “A little help here?”

  Rachel swallowed, recalibrating her shocked tongue.

  “Johnny’s right,” she said, putting as much weight and authority behind the words as she could.

  Several eyes shifted toward her. No one here but Daniels probably much cared what she thought, but some of them had seen what she could do, and they knew that she’d fought for them in the past.

  Hopefully it was enough.

  “Look, our asses are too far in the fire to argue right now.”

  The sounds of nearby gunfire and shouting added credence to her words, as did the blood-curdling roar that tore out from the direction of the common room.

  Shit. They needed to get back to the others. And if this was really happening, maybe Drogan could even help shut down the rest of Golga’s forces.

  She looked at Drogan, then back to the men and women watching her. “I’ve been closer to this raknoth’s mind than anyone here.” She shook her head. “He’s not my friend. But right now, he’s not my enemy either, and if we don’t take all the help we can get, we’re all gonna die down here.”

  No one spoke for a long tense moment.

  Then Michael barked, “Let’s move, people!”

  Heads turned to Daniels, who gave a solitary nod. “You heard Carver, people. Let’s move.”

  Uncertain stares slowly gave way to bobbing heads.

  “We need to get back to the common room,” Rachel said. “Shut them down before—”

  A sound like a choir of roaring lions spun Rachel back to Michael’s side of the hallway. Down by medical, Golga’s men began to unfreeze and promptly parted to clear a path.

  Al’Krogoth stepped in view, rusty hide fully intact and crimson eyes blazing, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat.

  “Fuck,” Rachel said.

  Too late.

  28

  Aft
er Rachel and Elise departed for medical, things actually seemed rather dull to Jarek—for all of one whole minute, at least. Judging from the focus etched on Haldin’s brow and the fact that Golga’s forces weren’t currently blasting down on their heads, the Enochian was still at it with his little mischievous arcanist act, which left them with little to do but sit and wait.

  At least until Alton bristled up and quietly announced that Haldin was under attack. The raknoth didn’t specify beyond that, but the sudden sheen of sweat on the Enochian’s forehead gave Jarek a decent guess as to what he meant.

  There had to be at least one raknoth topside—probably several—and it looked like they must be taking it upon themselves to disrupt the arcanist who was currently HQ’s main defense.

  “Can you help him?” Jarek asked quietly.

  “I am.” Alton’s tone was flat, his gaze distant. “There are several of them nearby.”

  Several raknoth topside. Fantastic. At least Alton hadn’t accidentally called them his kin out loud. He was already drawing enough distrustful stares as it was.

  Jarek reached over his shoulder for the Whacker but thought better of it. The common room was the most spacious place in HQ, but even here, the ceiling was too low to easily swing a giant sword around, and that wasn’t even to mention the risk of catching a friendly with this many Resistance forces around.

  For a second, Jarek considered asking Phineas to borrow one of his snazzy assault rifles, but the stoic bear-man didn’t look eager to part with any of his ordnance. Instead, he strode over and scooped up a carbine one of the first batch of Golga’s men had carried in before Haldin sealed the breach. However the hell he’d managed that one.

  Pound for pound, he wasn’t sure who was packing more power between Rachel and Haldin, but he had to admit the Enochian was devilishly crafty from what he’d seen. As tenuous as their arrival had been, Jarek was glad the Enochians were on their side.

  In addition to the rifle, Jarek plucked two loaded mags from the soldier’s vest and tucked them into his gun belt before checking to ensure his current mag was full enough. The weapon wouldn’t take down a raknoth, but there were plenty of men ready to kill them up there too. Jarek might as well be useful until it was time to let the Whacker out.